Take 'In Memoriam.'" He was impelled to suggest "Locksley Hall," and would have done so, had not his vision gripped him again and left him staring at her, the female of his kind, who, out of the primordial ferment, creeping and crawling up the vast ladder of life for a thousand thousand centuries, had emerged on the topmost rung, having become one Ruth, pure, and fair, and divine, and with power to make him know love, and to aspire toward purity, and to desire to taste divinity--him, Martin Eden, who, too, had come up in some amazing fashion from out of the ruck and the mire and the countless mistakes and abortions of unending creation.

There was the romance, and the wonder, and the glory.

There was the stuff to write, if he could only find speech.

Saints in heaven!--They were only saints and could not help themselves.

But he was a man.
"You have strength," he could hear her saying, "but it is untutored strength." "Like a bull in a china shop," he suggested, and won a smile.
"And you must develop discrimination.