When Blithe To Argument I Come, Though

A Bit Of Trash Now And Then Is Good For The Severest Reader. It Provides The Necessary Roughage In The Literary Diet.

The System - The American One, At Least - Is A Vast And Noble Experiment. It Has Been Polestar And Exemplar For Other Nations. But From Kindergarten Until She Graduates From College The Girl Is Treated In It Exactly Like Her Brothers. She Studies The Same Subjects, Becomes Proficient At The Same Sports. Oh, It Is A Magnificent Lore She Learns, Education For The Mind Beyond Anything Jane Austen Or Saint Theresa Or Even Mrs. Pankhurst Ever Dreamed. It Is Truly Utopian. But Utopia Was Never Meant To Exist On This Disheveled Planet.

One Applauds The Industry Of Professional Philanthropy. But It Has Its Dangers. After A While The Private Heart Begins To Harden. We Fling Letters Into The Wastebasket, Are Abrupt To Telephoned Solicitations. Charity Withers In The Incessant Gale.

Those Wearing Tolerance For A Label Call Other Views Intolerable.

For The Hearts Of Nurses Are Solid Gold, / But Their Heels Are Flat And Their Hands Are Cold, / And Their Voices Lilt With A Lilt That's Falser / Than The Smile Of An Exhibition Waltzer. / Yes, Nurses Can Cure You, Nurses Restore You, / But Nurses Are Bound That They Do Things For You.