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Du Bois, W. E. B. (William Edward Burghardt), 1868-1963

"The Souls of Black Folk"

As the light dawned linger-
ingly on his new creations, he sat rapt and silent before the
vision, or wandered alone over the green campus peering
through and beyond the world of men into a world of thought.
And the thoughts at times puzzled him sorely; he could not
see just why the circle was not square, and carried it out
fifty-six decimal places one midnight,--would have gone
further, indeed, had not the matron rapped for lights out. He
caught terrible colds lying on his back in the meadows of
nights, trying to think out the solar system; he had grave
doubts as to the ethics of the Fall of Rome, and strongly
suspected the Germans of being thieves and rascals, despite
his textbooks; he pondered long over every new Greek word,
and wondered why this meant that and why it couldn't mean
something else, and how it must have felt to think all things
in Greek. So he thought and puzzled along for himself,--
pausing perplexed where others skipped merrily, and walking
steadily through the difficulties where the rest stopped and
surrendered.
Thus he grew in body and soul, and with him his clothes
seemed to grow and arrange themselves; coat sleeves got
longer, cuffs appeared, and collars got less soiled.


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