se who, like Mrs. Alving, have paid
with blood and tears for their spiritual awakening, repudiate marriage
as an imposition, a shallow, empty mockery. They know, whether love last
but one brief span of time or for eternity, it is the only creative,
inspiring, elevating basis for a new race, a new world.

In our present pygmy state love is indeed a stranger to most people.
Misunderstood and shunned, it rarely takes root; or if it does, it soon
withers and dies. Its delicate fiber can not endure the stress and
strain of the daily grind. Its soul is too complex to adjust itself to
the slimy woof of our social fabric. It weeps and moans and suffers with
those who have need of it, yet lack the capacity to rise to love's
summit.

Some day, some day men and women will rise, they will reach the mountain
peak, they will meet big and strong and free, ready to receive, to
partake, and to bask in the golden rays of love. What fancy, what
imagination, what poetic genius can foresee even approximately the
potentialities of such a force in the life of men and women. If the
world is ever to give birth to true companionship and oneness, not
marriage, but love will be the parent.

THE ONLY ANARCHIST MONTHLY IN AMERICA

MOTHER EARTH