...we must join neither the idolaters nor the "debunkers" of human love....nineteenth-century literature...talk as if they thought falling in love was the same thing as sanctification....The debunkers...are always pulling up and exposing the grubby roots of our natural loves....The highest does not stand without the lowest. A plant must have roots below as well as sunlight above and roots must be grubby. Much of the grubbiness is clean dirt if only you will leave it in the garden and it keep on sprinkling it over the library table.
The glory of God is man fully alive.
Love ceases to be a demon only when he ceases to be a god.
For children are innocent and love justice, while most of us are wicked and naturally prefer mercy.
Nor public flame, nor private, dare to shine;
Nor human light is left, nor glimpse divine!
Lo! Thy dread Empire, Chaos, is restored;
Light dies before thine uncreating word:
Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall;
And universal darkness buries all.
Very soon the shadow will give way to Reality. The partial will pass into the Perfect. The foretaste will lead to the Banquet. The troubled path will end in Paradise.
A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.
Those who expect to reap the blessings of freedom, must, like men, undergo the fatigues of supporting it.
Religion divorced from morality, words without deeds, creeds that satisfy the head but never warm the heart, are vain.
In the dust of defeat as well as in the laurels of victory there is a glory to be found if one has done his best.