It appears to me impossible that I should cease to exist, or that this active, restless spirit, equally alive to joy and sorrow, should only be organised dust — ready to fly abroad the moment the spring snaps, or the spark goes out which kept it together. Surely something resides in this heart that is not perishable, and life is more than a dream.
Man is a dream of a shadow. But when god-given brightness comes, a shining light rests on men, and life is sweet.
The body is a great reason, a plurality with one sense, a war and a peace, a flock and a shepherd.