A Death Is The Most Terrible Of

We Are All Prisoner, But The Name Of Our Cure Is Not Freedom

Every Human Soul Has Seen, Perhaps Before Their Birth, Pure Forms Such As Justice, Temperance, Beauty And All The Great Moral Qualities Which We Hold In Honour. We Are Moved Towards What Is Good By The Faint Memory Of These Forms, Simple And Calm And Blessed, Which We Saw Once In A Pure, Clear Light, Being Pure Ourselves.

Those Who Hope, By Retiring From The World, To Earn A Holiday From Human Frailty, In Themselves And Others, Are Usually Disappointed.

The Talk Of Lovers Who Have Just Declared Their Love Is One Of Life's Most Sweet Delights. Each Vies With The Other In Humility, In Amazement At Being So Valued. The Past Is Searched For The First Signs And Each One Is In Haste To Declare All That He Is So That No Part Of His Being Escapes The Hallowing Touch.

Human Affairs Are Not Serious, But They Have To Be Taken Seriously.