Inizio della vita

How could I go home? Everyone would laugh at me. "Here's the boy who ran away to sea!" they would say. "One storm and he came crying home!" I couldn't face that shame. My pride was stronger than my good sense. This is the folly of youth.

We are not ashamed to do wrong. But we are ashamed to make amends. We are not ashamed to be foolish. But we are ashamed to become wise. So I went to London. On the road I fought with myself. But pride won every argument.

In London I stayed for a while. The memory of the storm began to fade. My fear became weaker. My desire for adventure became stronger. I thought less about home. I thought less about my father's tears. I thought less about God's warnings.