were many other things to think about.

The summer following my father's death, however, I began again my
so-far fruitless search for a cure for my stammering, this time
placing myself under the care and instruction of a man claiming to
be "The World's Greatest Specialist in the Cure of Stammering." He
may have been the world's greatest specialist, but not in the cure
of stammering. He did succeed, however, by the use of his absurd
methods, in putting me through a course that resulted in the
membrane and lining of my throat and vocal organs becoming
irritated and inflamed to such an extent that I was compelled to
undergo treatment for a throat affection that threatened to be as
serious as the stammering itself.

I tried everything that came to my attention--first one thing and
then another--but without results. Still I refused to be
discouraged. I kept on and on, my mother constantly encouraging
and reassuring me. And you will later see that I found a method
that cured me.

There are always those who stand idly about and say, "It can't be
done!" Such people as these laughed at Fulton with his steamboat,
they laughed at Stephenson and his steam locomotive, they laughed
at Wright and the airplane.

They say, "It can't be done"--but it is done, nevertheless.

I turned a deaf ear to the people who tried to convince me that it
couldn't be done. I had a firm belief in that old adage, "Where
there is a will there is a way," and I made another of my own,