Strands of Indian Thought  by Vidya Nivas Misra 

While making a collection of this series of articles my own work of mass communication is in for an assemblage. I persuade myself that this might not have been a meaningless offering of an earthen lamp, no matter the wick in it might have been rather ill twined, the ghee might not have remained that pure, the earthen lamp might not have soaked the water so well as to let the ghee last longer, just likely it itself might not have been placed on the right base; perhaps the method of buoying it far was quasi-perfect; but on the advent of Kârtik (November) people on the river banks will curiously observe the rows of earthen lamps in the Indian life stream, earthen lamps of unalloyed clay; some day they will feel conscious of the maker of these lamps, the potter; they may have the sensibility ever of squeezing their psyche to fill in them their own sap and oil of affection, in some distant time they may have a mind to replenish it with a straight and well-threaded wick, they may sometimes be impelled for their own heart churning to give it a fill of their ardour; and perhaps at some inexplicable part of time they may make up their minds to buoy those earthen lamps after a touch of that first wick with another wick onto the current.