salve

My slaves are nothing. When they look at me, they see all the extent of their insignificance.

I am so far above them, and they are so low beneath me. Not that it ever made them feel

despicable. On the contrary, each of my slaves always felt a noble pipeline before me,

obeying and serving me, toiling for me, sweating for me. It always made them proud to open doors

for me, to give me my bag or coat, to prostrate themselves at my feet, to be at my beck and call,