I sit with Shakespeare and he winces not. Across the color line I move arm in arm with Balzac and Dumas, where smiling men and welcoming women glide in gilded halls. From out the caves of evening that swing between the strong-limbed earth and the tracery of the stars, I summon Aristotle and Aurelius and what soul I will, and they come all graciously with no scorn nor condescension. So, wed with Truth, I dwell above the Veil.
Thursday, September 15, 2016
. . . and they come all graciously with no scorn nor condescension
A wonderful voice from the past with a muscular endorsement of universalism over the frantic cognitive desiccation arising from identity politics and multiculturalism. W.E.B. Du Bois we need you now on our campuses. From The Souls of Black Folk, 1903, Chapter VI, Of the Training of Black Men by W.E.B. Du Bois.
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