God Is The Explanation Of

Our Life Is What We Make It. An Insignificant Game Or A Noble Trial; A Dream Or A Reality; A Play Of The Senses Worn Out In Selfish Use, And Flying "swifter Than A Weaver's Shuttle," Or An Ascension Of The Soul, By Daily Duties And Unfaltering Faith, To More Spiritual Relations And To Loftier Toils.

Let Every Man Be Free To Act From His Own Conscience; But Let Him Remember That Other People Have Consciences Too; And Let Not His Liberty Be So Expansive That In Its Indulgence It Jars And Crashes Against The Liberty Of Others.

Break Up The Institution Of The Family, Deny The Inviolability Of Its Relations, And In A Little While There Would Not Be Any Humanity.

The Brightest Crowns That Are Worn In Heaven Have Been Tried, And Smelted, And Polished And Glorified Through The Furnaces Of Tribulation.

Death, Is Not An End, But A Transition Crisis. All The Forms Of Decay Are But Masks Of Regeneration--the Secret Alembics Of Vitality.