The Journal of Arthur Stirling

What a thing is hope! I have been for two days chained in the most horrible kind of a place. Picture it–to stand all day and see low people stuffing themselves with food–the dirt and the grease and the stench and the endless hideous drudgery! And I five days out of the springing forest and the ecstasy of inspiration!–Truly, it is a thing to put one’s glory to a test! But I hardly feel it–I walk on air–deep back in my soul there is an organ song, I hear it all day, all day!