(Note: the text below was printed in Joseph Pulitzer's New York World in 1902, after the success of The Story of Mary MacLane. Original copies of the Butte High School Leader are not known to have survived, hence it is unclear if this is a complete (if brief) editorial or only an excerpt; the title given is that which was reported in the World.)


"Consider Thy Youth and Therein"
by Mary MacLane
Butte High School Leader
Spring 1899 [age 18]


It has struck me, as a result of my psychological, natural philosophical and general metaphysical reflection on human nature at large, that the thing which we do not realize is our youth.

The world is harsh. And in youth prepare you for it. Become you a stoic, if need be. Make you no friendships, for friends are but Brutuses and will turn against you. Take you the world for what it is and nothing else.

'Tis the way I myself have begun, and in my thirties and forties I will ask no one for oil, for I expect my lamp to be burning. I expect to wring not my hands, for in an armor one cannot. Neither will my soul sink in anguish.



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"High School Editorial"
(Note: the text below was printed in Joseph Pulitzer's New York World in 1902, after the success of The Story of Mary MacLane. Original copies of the Butte High School Leader are not known to have survived, hence it is unclear if this is a complete (if brief) editorial or only an excerpt; the title given is that which was reported in the World.)


"Consider Thy Youth and Therein"
by Mary MacLane
Butte High School Leader
Spring 1899 [age 18]


It has struck me, as a result of my psychological, natural philosophical and general metaphysical reflection on human nature at large, that the thing which we do not realize is our youth.

The world is harsh. And in youth prepare you for it. Become you a stoic, if need be. Make you no friendships, for friends are but Brutuses and will turn against you. Take you the world for what it is and nothing else.

'Tis the way I myself have begun, and in my thirties and forties I will ask no one for oil, for I expect my lamp to be burning. I expect to wring not my hands, for in an armor one cannot. Neither will my soul sink in anguish.



works index
maclane index
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