THOUGHTS FROM WRITINGS 



SO wedded and so confirmed is the 

 world in its narrow grove of self, 

 so stolid and so complacent 

 under the immense weight of misery, 

 so callous to its own possibilities, and 

 so grown to its chains, that I almost 

 despair to see it awakened. — ' The Story 

 of my Heart.' 



I VERILY believe that the earth in 

 one year produces enough food to 

 last for thirty. Why, then, have 

 we not enough ? Why do people die of 

 starvation, or lead a miserable existence 

 on the verge of it ? Why have millions 

 upon millions to toil from morning to 

 evening just to gain a mere crust of 

 bread? Because of the absolute lack 

 of organisation by which such labour 

 should produce its effect, the absolute 

 lack of distribution, the absolute lack 

 even of the very idea that such things 

 are possible. Nay, even to mention such 



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