For, infatuated though I was with the idea of the greatness I might live to attain, I knew very well that thus far my claims to posthumous fame were ridiculously unfounded, and I did not want to be laughed at for my vanity.
Spirit of all childhood! Forgive me, forgive me, for so lightly betraying a child's dream-secrets.

I that smile so scoffingly to-day at the unsophisticated child that was myself, have I found any nobler thing in life than my own longing to be noble?
Would I not rather be consumed by ambitions that can never be realized than live in stupid acceptance of my neighbor's opinion of me?
The statue in the public square is less a portrait of a mortal individual than a symbol of the immortal aspiration of humanity.

So do not laugh at the little boy playing at soldiers, if he tells you he is going to hew the world into good behavior when he gets to be a man.

And do, by all means, write my name in the book of fame, saying, She was one who aspired.

For that, in condensed form, is the story of the lives of the great.
* * * * * Summer days are long, and the evenings, we know, are as long as the lamp-wick.