There is no more equality among men than there is likeness between them, and no two are alike.

The many have little, the few have much.

To the many is given the faint perception of higher things, which is either the vestige, or the promise, of a nobler development, past or yet to come.

As through a veil they see the line of beauty which it is not theirs to trace; as in a dream they hear the succession of sweet tones which they can themselves never bring together, though their half-grown instinct feels a vague satisfaction in the sequence; as from another world, they listen to the poet's song, wondering, admiring, but powerless over the great instrument of human speech, from whose 15,000 keys their touch can draw but the dull, tuneless prose of daily question and answer; as in a mirage of things unreal, they see the great deeds that are done in their time for love or hate, for race or country, for ambition and for vengeance, but though they see the result, and know the motive, the inward meaning and spirit of it all escapes them.

It is theirs to be, and existence is in itself their all.