When at eve, at the bounding of the landscape, the heavens appear to recline so slowly on the earth, imagination pictures beyond the horizon an asylum of hope, - a native land of love; and nature seems silently to repeat that man is immortal.
There are only two distinct classes of people on this earth, those who espouse enthusiasm and those who despise it.
There is no reality on this earth except religion and the power of love; all the rest is even more fugitive than life itself.
Divine Wisdom, intending to detain us some time on earth, has done well to cover with a veil the prospect of the life to come; for if our sight could clearly distinguish the opposite bank, who would remain on this tempestuous coast of time?
O Earth! All bathed with blood and tears, yet never, Hast thou ceased putting forth thy fruit and flowers.
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