On Love
Love is the only bow on Life's dark cloud. It is the morning and the evening star. It shines upon the babe, and sheds its radiance on the quiet tomb. It is the mother of art, inspirer of poet, patriot and philosopher. It is the air and light of every heart — builder of every home, kindler of every fire on every hearth. It was the first to dream of immortality. It fills the world with melody — for music is the voice of love. Love is the magician, the enchanter, that changes worthless things to Joy, and makes royal kings and queens of common clay. It is the perfume of that wondrous flower, the heart, and without that sacred passion, that divine swoon, we are less than beasts; but with it, earth is heaven, and we are gods.
— Robert G. Ingersoll (born August 11, 1833)
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| Robert G. Ingersoll (1833-1899) |
The Holy Spirit
I believe that the Holy Spirit of God is a real presence in our hearts in the hour of earnest prayer, but not then alone when we are consciously seeking it. I believe the divine influence is ever around us, that it comes with the sunshine and perfumes of summer, with the glories of autumn, in the storms and snow-crystals of winter. I believe that the Spirit of God is the breath of life in every living thing, from the leaf which hangs trembling upon the bough to the worshipping spirit before the throne of the Most High.
— Charles H. Wellbeloved (1835-1903)
Infinite Love
As a dear friend can look the love which he cannot utter, so do I read the face of Nature; so do I read the record of God's interposing mercy. I feel myself embraced with a kindness too tender and strong for utterance. It cannot tell me how dear to the Infinite Love my welfare, my purity is. Only by means and ministrations, by blessings and trials, by dealings and pressures of its gracious hand upon me, can it make me know.
— Orville Dewey (1794-1882)
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