I saw to what extent the people among whom I lived could be trusted as good neighbors and friends; that their friendship was for summer weather only; that they did not greatly propose to do right; that they were a distinct race from me by their prejudices and superstitions,

It is only the blinded minds and sight that can't see that a path, leads to a lot more path.

What matters in literature in the end is surely the idiosyncratic, the individual, the flavor or the color of a particular human suffering.

Do not expect someone who can't do anything small for you to do anything big..

Written By Lo Godley

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