I claim to have found a way to it. I claim to be making a ceaseless effort to find it. But I admit that I have not yet found it. To find truth completely is to realize oneself and one’s destiny, i.e., to become perfect. I am painfully conscious of my imperfections, and therein lies all the strength I possess, because it is a rare thing for a man to know his own limitations. If I was a perfect man, I own I should not feel the miseries of neighbors as I do. As a perfect man I should note of them, prescribe a remedy, and compel adoption by the force of unchallengeable Truth in me. But as yet I only see as through a glass darkly and therefore have to carry conviction by slow and laborious processes, and then, too, not always with success.