When one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language. Only our love hath no decay; this, no tomorrow hath, nor yesterday, running it never runs from us away, but truly keeps his first, last, everlasting day. No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face. Nature's great masterpiece, an elephant - the only harmless great thing. Let us love nobly, and live, and add again years and years unto years. I throw myself down in my chamber, and I call in, and invite God, and his Angels thither, and when they are there, I neglect God and his Angels, for the noise of a fly, for the rattling of a coach, for the whining of a door. I am two fools, I know, for loving, and for saying so in whining poetry. God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice. As states subsist in part by keeping their weaknesses from being known, so is it the quiet of families to have their chancery and their parliament within doors, and to compose and determine all emergent differences there. Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies. |
