True Love Is The Ripe Fruit Of

Shall Not This Bygone Eden That We Knew In Our Eternal Life Have Shape And Hue? For Where Time Is Not Shall Not All Time Be? In That Calm Breast Whereto Our Souls Are Cleaving Shall We Not Find Our Loved Ones Beyond Grieving About The Hearth-stone Of Eternity?

The Death Of A Man's Wife Is Like Cutting Down An Ancient Oak That Has Long Shaded The Family Mansion. Henceforth The Glare Of The World, With Its Cares And Vicissitudes Falls Upon The Old Widower's Heart, And There Is Nothing To Break Their Force, Or Shield Him From The Full Weight Of Misfortune. It Is As If His Right Hand Were Withered; As If One Wing Of His Angel Was Broken, And Every Movement That He Made Brought Him To The Ground.

If Greatness Of Purpose, Smallness Of Means, And Astonishing Results Are The Three Criteria Of A Human Genius, Who Could Dare Compare Any Great Man In History With Muhammad? The Most Famous Men Created Arms, Laws, And Empires Only. They Founded, If Anything At All, No More Than Material Powers Which Often Crumbled Away Before Their Eyes. This Man Moved Not Only Armies, Legislations, Empires, Peoples, Dynasties, But Millions Of Men In One-third Of The Then Inhabited World; And More Than That, He Moved The Altars, The Gods, The Religions, The Ideas, The Beliefs And The Souls.

Enthusiasm Is The Intoxication Of Earnestness.

Hence Life, As Through A Cloud, For Me I See Vanish, And To The Past's Dark Shade 'tis Chas'd; As A Grand Image Love Remains To Me-- Sole Remnant Of A Dream, By Morn Effac'd.