All others are eavesdroppers, and, of course, have
no right to critise.
To many, the word "autobiography" implies nothing but conceit and
egotism. But these are not necessarily its characteristics. If an
apple blossom or a ripe apple could tell its own story, it would
be, still more than its own, the story of the sunshine that
smiled upon it, of the winds that whispered to it, of the birds
that sang around it, of the storms that visited it, and of the
motherly tree that held it and fed it until its petals were
unfolded and its form developed.
A complete autobiography would indeed be a picture of the outer
and inner universe photographed upon one little life's
consciousness. For does not the whole world, seen and unseen
go to the making up of every human being? The commonest personal
history has its value when it is looked at as a part of the One
Infinite Life. Our life--which is the very best thing we have--is
ours only that we may share it with Our Father's family, at their
need.
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