In Rhodesia he was at least free, to a certain extent, from the parasites.
How could one help pitying him and regretting that his indomitable will did not extend to the courage of breaking from his past associations; that he did not carry his determination far enough to make up his mind to consecrate what was left of his life to the one task for which he was best fitted, that of making Rhodesia one of the most glorious possessions of the British crown.

Rhodes had done so much, achieved so much, had conceived such great things--as, for instance, the daring inception of the Cape to Cairo Railway--that it surely could have been possible for him to rise above the shackling weaknesses of his environment.
So many years have passed since the death of Rhodes that, now, one can judge him objectively.

To me, knowing him so well as I did, it seem that as his figure recedes into the background of history, it acquires more greatness.

He was a mystery to so many because few had been able to guess what it was that he really meant, or believed in, or hoped for.

Not a religious man by any means, he yet possessed that religion of nature which pervades the soul of anyone who has ever lived for long face to face with grandeurs and solitudes where human passions have no entrance.