Heaven is the earth multiplied milliards of times, and the earth is a corner of heaven. We are in that heaven. The earth which we inhabit is a part of it. It is a planet, a globe, suspended in space, like the moon, Mars, Venus, or Jupiter. That is the Truth, and more material ideas of life are false, albeit humanity in its ignorance is satisfied with them.
One may live a hundred thousand years without having realized all—nay, the half nor the quarter, nor the hundredth part—of the reality of life.
There is the Infinite to conquer. We know the enigma given by Timæus of Locris a thousand years ago. What is a circle whose centre is everywhere and its circumference nowhere? The answer was "God," and we can with Pascal apply this definition to the infinite universe.
Oh, this starry sphere! In it is life—life universal, life eternal. What are we seeking? Here, in this archipelago of celestial isles, are the dwellings of immortality. We already inhabit this archipelago. We are not by the side of heaven nor outside it; we are in it. If we live after death, it is there that we live; there is no need to invent fables and stories as to the abode of souls. If we do not live, if the dwellers of all the worlds are only born to die, life has no aim, the universe is futile.
Oh! brilliant stars, suns of the infinite, ye are the torches of Eternity, the centres of immortality.
Hesperus
BY EDITH WYATT
THE Vesper star that quivers there,
A wonder in the darkening air,
Still holds me longing for the height
And splendor of the full of night.
Come, quiet night. The day's blue bars
Have dropped and let out all the stars
To flock through heaven till the light.
The day is done. Come, quiet night.
Come, quiet night. My day is done—
My little day of work and fun;
I'm tired. Hold me close and light
In your wide silence, quiet night.
So, when I see day's last blue spark,
My prides, my shames, my work, grow dark,
And still is all life's wrong and right,
Deep may I know the perfect night.
