I'm only blind! Just imagine it! What is that?—it's nothing at all, compared with life; and when I get well and strong I won't be a blind man.
I may not recover my sight, but that doesn't matter a bit, I will laugh at it, defy it. I will carry on as usual; I will overcome it and live the life that has been given back to me.
I will be happy, happier than ever. I'm in a bed alive. Oh, God! I am grateful!
CHAPTER XXII[ToC]
BLINDNESS
How reckless we are in referring to death! There are many people who would say they would prefer death to blindness; but the nearer the approach of death, the greater becomes the comparison between the finality of the one and the affliction of the other.
Those men, however, who have faced death in many frightful forms, and dodged it; suffered the horrors of its approach, yet cheated it; who have waited for its inevitable triumph, then slipped from its grasp; who have lived with it for days, parrying its thrust, evading its clutch; yet feeling the irresistible force of its power; men who have suffered these horrors and escaped without more than the loss of even the wonderful gift of sight, can afford to treat this affliction in a lesser degree, holding the sanctity of life as a thing precious and sacred beyond all things.