There is a streak of stubbornness and cowardice in me that in trying to drive out of me, I have driven deep into me where it lies hidden to rise at trying hours. Take the final summit ascent on Kilimanjaro for example. I must root this fault out

I can feel it inside me, waiting to turn its nose up at difficulties, as if ignoring them squarely in a most royal manner will give me grace for losing out. It's a frightened person's snatch at leaving the room before the ceiling comes down. A feeling that strength and character can carry one no longer and the best thing is to call the grapes sour.

Don't get me wrong, I don't feel it now. But I know anytime I am staring squarely at the face of defeat this trait will rise in me and I will turn away tamely without fighting. No, let me rephrase that. I will feel this urge but I hope that I will rise to the occasion and go down fighting.