The Birmingham age-herald., 1924-08-09
Self Pity
By DIR. FRANK CRANE

-a.ff- f ' s A boy of sixteen, in the City of New York, came home, went to his room, attached one end of tube to the gas pipe and the other to his mouth lay; down upon couch, breathed in the deadly fumes, and went to sleep forever.
 He left letter remarkable for the maturity of it's pessimism. Like an old man, he speaks of the burden of the world saying that while there is a great deal of talk about the cow ardice of suicide, he believes s'it is even still more cowardly to submit weakly to social conditions, to allow one's individuality to be crushed in the grind of coInmercialism, to live a semi-animal existence"
 He continues: T believe a serious blunder has been made in bringing me into this world, as it has been made in. the millions of toll ing, drudging human beings condemned to a life of misery and degradation"
 No word of blame for him. To us the dead are all pardoned. But we may be permitted to point out the secret despair in this child that should have been playing in the sun and not drinking the bitterness of his own soul And the secret is self-pity. When once the human mind has fallen into the way of pitying itself the wheels of life begin to run backward, and to mark not the hours of surprise and joy, but to give forth the grinding of aisillusion and death.
 Begin to study yourself, examine yourself. criticize yourself, analyze your motives, probe and take apart your emotions and thoughts, and you have entered upon task the end of which is impotence and not improbably vice.
 Direct your attention steadily toward your own soul, and it is only question of time till all youthful vigor, all joy of existence, and all greening enthusiasm are dried up within you.
 That way madness lies. There never was a vile criminal, drunkard, or wretched 7sensualist that was not sorry for himself.
 Most insanity is the frenzy of egotism.
 There is one crystal too dread for human eyes to look steadily upon, It is the crystal of the heart; one abyss--the abyss of ones soul-which no one can look down without the dizziness of self-dcstruction seizing him
 Look out, not in !" was the sound motto of Edward Everett Hale. Look out. The windows of q house are made to look out from, not to look into. The eyes are turned to the .outer world. not toward the inner soul.
 Look out! and the outer universe cures the inward scklincss. There is the majestic sun, and the stars in the wheeling sky; there are the city streets of adventure, and the wide wild waves of the sea there are the ends of the earth to cx. plore, and the boundless mystery of humanity.
 Why perish where you4are, like a rat in q hole? 'Tis a wide earth; take your hat and I fare forth.
 How many thousands in the city, in the cruel struggle for sIceess, taste the hell of failure ,and cast sheep's eyes at suicide c | for a word that would summon Jhcul Gs a trumpet to the fails field of life!
 Up! Open the window! Seif-pity is cerEtn asphyxiation.
 You have but ons eeneniy-self Keep CT living with him, nursing him, listening to hs maudlin babble, and it is your undoing. Self-pity is hell. Get out of it, You catl if you will.
 Do something or-somebody if its onIS dog. Love somebody, not with your des.res, but with your self-devOtiOn. Find q gtetl idea, to lose yourself ill. i No matter where you are, even it ca sickbed, even if you are a tramp hl tlle streets, you will find life very interestias an full of rich surprise if you can only set away from yourself.
 There, within you. is the source ot oll cowardice and gall of contempt. Looe out, not in! Face the world with brave slIilr' and your soul will turn sweet within yop Heart, open the window and face tllc jay Leave the dark caves of self There are no wild beasts so fierce IF tns
 mountains
 As the hungry tigers in the soul. Heart, open the door and come forth And every daybrcak is an adventure.