What is called my character, or nature, is made up of infinite particles of
inherited tendencies from my ancestors -- those whose blood runs in my veins.
A little seed of laziness comes from this grandfather; and of prodigality from
that other one. One of them may have been a moody person and a pessimist; while
another was of a jovial nature who always saw the sunny side of every event. One
may have had a most satisfactory life as a philosopher; while another ambitious
one never was contented with actual conditions whatever they were. Some remote
grandmother, perhaps, has stamped me with a fear of dogs and love of horses.
There may be in me a bit of outlawry from some pirate forefather and a dash of
piety from one who was a saint ...
My so-called particularities: my gestures, my ways, and my mannerism, I borrowed
from all, without any exception. So everything in me passed on through my children.
I am sewn between ancestry and posterity. I am a drop of water in the flowing
river of time; a molecule in a mountain; a cell in a great family tree.
As we enter life, we find all these fears and fancies; likes and dislikes;
dispositions and temperament already made in the human beehive and crawl into
them, so that they become a part of our true fiber, part of our personal texture,
part of our frame of mind and body.
This is our birthmark; this is our heritage.
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