The way in which men cling to old institutions after the life has departed out of them, and out of themselves, reminds me of those monkeys which cling by their tails . . . beyond the hunter's reach long after they are dead.
We mourn; we sorrow for our loved ones that go - our wives, our husbands, our children, our parents; we sorrow for them; and it is well and proper that we should moum for them and shed tears for the loss, for it is our loss; but it is their gain, for it is in the march of progress, advancement and development. It will be all right when our time comes, when we have finished our work and accomplished what the Lord required of us. If we are prepared, we need not be afraid to go, for it will be one of the most pleasant sensations that ever comes to the soul of man, whenever he departs, if he can go with a clear conscience into the presence of the Lord.
In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed-- But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted. Ah! what is not a dream by day To him whose eyes are cast On things around him with a ray Turned back upon the past? That holy dream- that holy dream, While all the world were chiding, Hath cheered me as a lovely beam A lonely spirit guiding. What though that light, thro' storm and night, So trembled from afar- What could there be more purely bright In Truth's day-star?
Three Friends There were three friends Discussing life. One said: "Can we live together and know nothing of it? Work together and produce nothing? Can people fly around in space and still forget to exist World without end?" The three friends looked at each other and burst out laughing. They had no explanation. Thus they were better friends than before. Then one friend died. Confucius sent a disciple to help the other two Chant the traditional funeral ritual. His disciple found that one of them had composed a song. While the other played the lute, They sang: "Hey, Sung Hu! Where'd you go? You have gone Where you were before. And we are here-- Damn it! We are here!" Then the disciple of Confucius burst in on them and exclaimed: "May I inquire where in the funeral ritual it allows you to sing so irreverently in the presence of the departed?" The two friends looked at each other, smiled, and said: "Well trained in liturgy, but the poor fellow doesn't understand life and death!"
Change begets change. Nothing propagates so fast. If a man habituated to a narrow circle of cares and pleasures, out of which he seldom travels, step beyond it, though for never so brief a space, his departure from the monotonous scene on which he has been an actor of importance would seem to be the signal for instant confusion. . . . The mine which Time has slowly dug beneath familiar objects is sprung in an instant; and what was rock before, becomes but sand and dust.