There is a wilderness we walk alone However well-companioned - Stephen Vincent Benét

Life was a storm to wander through. I took the wrong way. Good and well, At least my feet sought out not Hell!

I am not tired. I am expectant as a runner is Before a race, a child before a feast day, A woman at the gates of life and death, Expectant for us all, for all of us Who live and suffer on this little earth With such small brotherhood. Something begins. Something is full of change and sparkling stars. Something is loosed that changes all the world.

When the first wrong was done to the first Indian, I was there. When the first slaver put out for the Congo, I stood on her deck. Am I not in your books and stories and beliefs, from the first settlements on? Am I not spoken of, still, in every church in New England? 'Tis true the North claims me for a Southerner and the South for a Northerner, but I am neither. I am merely an honest American like yourself — and of the best descent — for, to tell the truth, Mr. Webster, though I don't like to boast of it, my name is older in this country than yours.