These strange little things which Mr.Bomford would have me barter for money, brought me out of the unclean world and showed me how beautiful life might be--showed me, indeed, what beauty really is.

There is no religion has ever brought such joy to the heart of a man, nor any love, nor any of the great passions of the world have opened such gates as they have done for me.

You can't imagine what the hideous life is like--the life of vulgar days, of ugly surroundings, the dull and ceaseless trudge side by side with the multitude across the sterile plain, without the power to raise one's eyes, without the power to stretch out one's arms and feel the throb of freedom in one's pulses.
If I die to-morrow, I shall at least have lived for a little time, thanks to these.

Can you wonder that I think of them with reverence?
Yet you ask me to make use of one of them to help launch upon the world a patent food, something built upon the credulity of fools, something whose praises must be sung in blatant advertisements, desecrating the pages of magazines, gaping from the hoardings, thrust inside the chinks of human simplicity by the art of the advertising agent.

Edith, it is a hard thing, this.