The Three Great Elements Of Modern Civilization,

In A Certain Sense All Men Are Historians.

Might And Right Do Differ Frightfully From Hour To Hour, But Then Centuries To Try It In, They Are Found To Be Identical.

Who Is It That Loves Me And Will Love Me Forever With An Affection Which No Chance, No Misery, No Crime Of Mine Can Do Away? It Is You, My Mother.

Are We Not Spirits, That Are Shaped Into A Body, Into An Appearance; And That Fade Away Again Into Air And Invisibility? Oh, Heaven, It Is Mysterious, It Is Awful To Consider That We Not Only Carry A Future Ghost Within Us; But Are, In Very Deed, Ghosts! These Limbs, Whence Had We Them; This Stormy Force; This Life-blood With Its Burning Passion? They Are Dust And Shadow; A Shadow-system Gathered Round Our Me; Wherein, Through Some Moments Or Years, The Divine Essence Is To Be Revealed In The Flesh.

The Mystery Of A Person, Indeed, Is Ever Divine To Him That Has A Sense For The Godlike.