ABSTRACT
At seventeen, I lay on the ground and became acquainted with Shylock in Karl Emil Franzus’s novel. I lay there and wept over the injustice that was meted out to him. I was determined to put my whole life into gaining the ability one day to fling that injustice into the world’s face. I was now twenty-nine, and again I lay on the ground, with the fulfillment of my task just before me.
