Chicago State University - Emblem Yearbook (Chicago, IL)

Page 6 text:

DEDICATION Deep m the heart of every student (if the Chicago Normal College there is implanted an abiding affection for her whose every act is directed toward fostering mutual esteem and co-operation among the students. To Miss Stillman, our dean, and trusted friend, we owe a debt of gratitude for her sympathy in sorrow, her gentle chidings for mis- demeanors, and her unfeigned appreciation of efforts to succeed. When work seemed to overwhelm us and discouragement was written on downcast faces, a word of cheer or approbation from our dean helped us along the way. Years have a way of accentuating the pleasant memories; and so, when time has mellowed and tempered old scenes, the happy thought of a loyal and helpful friend will live on, undimmed, when other scenes and faces have gone down the hasy path of oblivion. To her we give thanks for many cherished ideals, and hope that her gentle influence will be an important factor in Normal school life for many years to come.

Page 8 text:

FOREWORD Someone, I believe it is Whistler, speaks of twilight as the hour when factories look like fairy palaces. And we are all conscious of the illusion that distance and the mellow light of sunset lend to grim, beetling buildings. We have all walked down some street in this City of Towers and craned our necks toward the top of the highest of them — and seen only the roughness of the stone. During our school life we have builded, stone upon stone, such a structure. And as we turn to view the results of our labors the sun blinds us and the building over- shadows us and we see only the crudeness of the material or the irregularity of the stones. And we turn away, sad that we have builded so imperfectly, or scornful be- cause our building is so unbeautiful. But when we have gone a great way and the day is almost finished we will look back to see what distance we have traveled. And behold! Our tower straight and true and dimly shinintr in the sunset. And as, in a building at sunset, some window catches the crimson light and im- prisons it, so as we look back across the years, may we find imprisoned in the pages of this book, those things that have made our life here worth the living. The Editor.