if our young men miscarry in their first enterprises, they lose all heart. if the young merchant fails, men say he is ruined. not knowing that the wide-eyed firmament has plenty treasures stored for him. if the finest genius studies at one of our iniversities, and is not installed in office within one year, afterwards in the suburbs or cities of johannesburg or cape town, it seems to his friends and himself that he is right in being disheartened, and in complaining for the rest of his life.
a sturdy lad from slumtown, who in turn tries all professions, who writes it, gardens it, cycles, talks philosophy, learns music, builds a city, meeting many, and always, like a cat, falls on his feet, is worth a hundred of these city dolls. he has not one chance but a hundred chances. he is every women’s man, let all the girls fight over him, for he is law unto himself, he is his own.
we must choose our own destiny and follow whatever path it has given us to tread believing that tomorrow everything will make sense. we cannot go far when we know where we are going. our faith is always blind. as nature mesmerizes man with her mystery seasons so we too must understand that there is a time and season for everything in life. a season to wait and a season to learn, a season to move and a season to grow. we must be prepared to let go to receive. as we fear ourselves we will fear to live.
let a stoic open the resources of man, and tell men they are not leaning willows, but can and must detach themselves; that with the exercise of self-trust new powers shall appear. whoever is not radical in his views is living in lukewarmness. a man is a word made flesh, born to shed healing to the nations, as he heals himself he heals all of man.
he should be ashamed of our compassion, he holds sun, moon, earth, water in his bosom, the moment he acts from himself, tossing the laws, the books, idolatries and customs out of the window, we pity him no more, but thank and revere him. he must make sense of who he is to make sense of the rest of humanity. these houses, these cars, these jobs will tumble and fall, and all that will be left is man as a newborn. he will make his name dear to all history restoring the life of man to splendor, returning to his peaceful abode before pandora. it is him who serves the muse.