The words Sinn Fein mean "Ourselves," and it is of ourselves I write in
this chapter. More urgent than any political emancipation is the drawing
together of men of good will in the endeavour to assist their
necessitous land. Our eyes must be withdrawn from the ends of the earth
and fixed on that which is around us and which we can touch. No
politician will talk to us of Ireland if by any trick he can avoid the
subject. His tale is still of Westminster and Chimborazo and the
Mountains of the Moon. Irishmen must begin to think for themselves and
of themselves, instead of expending energy on causes too distant to be
assisted or hindered by them. I believe that our human material is as
good as will be found in the world. No better, perhaps, but not worse.
And I believe that all but local politics are unfruitful and
soul-destroying. We have an island that is called little. It is more
than twenty times too spacious for our needs, and we will not have
explored the last of it in our children's lifetime. We have more
problems to resolve in our towns and cities than many generations of
minds will get tired of striving with. Here is the world, and all that
perplexes or delights the world is here also. Nothing is lost. Not even
brave men. They have been used. From this day the great adventure opens
for Ireland. The Volunteers are dead, and the call is now for
volunteers.