All victory lasts but the blinking of an eye, Doubly proclaiming the irreparable. In my ancient memory You were African like me, like the Atlas Mountain snows.
Every hand and every hour should be devoted to rescue the world from its insanity of guilt, and to assuage the pangs of human hearts with balm and anodyne. To pity distress is but human; to relieve it is Godlike.
