“When shall we live if not now?”

“When shall we live if not now?”

“We are living now. We shall not live long. No one should tell us we shall live again. This is our little while. This is our chance.”

“Now what?” asked Fat Charlie. “Shall we all join hands and contact the living?”

“We shall live even in this state of living death, we shall love, we shall feel, we shall defy all who would judge and destroy us.”

“We do not know, we do not know. We shall live from day to day, and put more locks on the doors, and get a fine fierce dog when the fine fierce bitch next door has pups, and hold on to our handbags more tenaciously; and the beauty of the trees by night, and the raptures of lovers under the stars, these things we shall forego. We shall forego the coming home drunken through the midnight streets, and the evening walk over the star-lit veld. We shall be careful, and knock this off our lives, and knock that off our lives, and hedge ourselves about with safety and precaution. And our lives will shrink, but they shall be the lives of superior beings; and we shall live with fear, but at least it will not be a fear of the unknown. And the conscience shall be thrust down; the light of life shall not be extinguished, but be put under a bushel, to be preserved for a generation that will live by it again, in some day not yet come; and how it will come, and when it will come, we shall not think about at all.”