There are lives sown in out of the way
places, and carelessly passed by as weeds, whose blossom angels might
stoop to wear in the whiteness of their own pure breasts. Oh, to rid
the world of its shams! To sweep away the "Chadbands" with a feather
duster, as the new girl removes dust; to open the windows and shoo away
the traitors as one drives flies, to hoe out society plats as one hoes
garden beds, and thin out the flaunting weeds so that the lilies may
find room to grow; to turn the strong light of discerning truth upon
hypocrites until, as the microscope changes a globule of dew into the
abode of 10,000 wriggling abominations, so the deceitful heart shall
stand revealed for what it actually is, rather than for what it seems
to be.
XXXIV.
DRESS PARADE OF THE GREAT ALIKE
I am tired of the endless dress parade of the "Great Alike." I am
weary of walking in line, like convicts in stripes. I glory in cranks
who serve their own individuality and are in bondage to nobody. The
onward sweep of progress in this age has opened up the way for
non-conformists. It is not a matter of heresy, nowadays, to think for
yourself, dress for yourself, and be yourself. I confess that I have
no heart pinings for such nonconformists as Dr. Mary Walker or any
other individual who believes that eccentricity, serving no purpose but
to make one conspicuous, is interesting.
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