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| Thane of Towson |
If thou livest under a moving, bitter sky on a
miserable world from which you scratch up
enough food to chew and fresh water to drink
to sustain your short life and the lives of your
offspring, and you cower in the cold, sable
night, the mother of Dread and Fear, and
you pick at the fleas and lice that eat at your
body, and you are always in danger of
succumbing to the unseen worms that are
all around you, then believe in a Placental God.
But if by the long journey of your mind and
the congress with your own kind, you have
understood the disturbed sky above, and have
given light and heat to the comfort-killing,
uncheerful night, and have subdued the lice
and the unseen worms, then stand up, open
your eyes, look in the mirror you have fashioned
with your own hands from the dust of the earth,
and gaze therein on a man---noble in reason,
admirable in action, the paragon of animals.
How like a god.
Believe you this: we eat weeds when our
quick minds are still. There is no darkness but
ignorance. Believe it. O, believe it.
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