POET:
I have crept to her feet and she has lifted me up ; She would not comfort me, but she has lifted me up.
TRUTH: Sorrow is the great champion.
POET: She leads us down into purple depths, Whence, turning suddenly, we see The heights, touched with sunrise.
TRUTH: Sorrow is a great goddess, brooding. But Misery, begotten of Man, shivers in rags.
POET: Death, the eternal sorrow.
TRUTH: Sorrow, the eternal aggrandizer. The strength of the
world. But to have lived and never to have lived is indeed death.
POET:
If we have lived. Death is but a pause in the great harmony.
TRUTH: Chanted upon the silver strings of the stars.
POET:
If Man has cheated his brother of the life-throb
He has broken the harmony ;
And Death is made the sneer of God.
TRUTH: Nature knows no sneer.
Always she is honest ; merciful ; merciless ; beautiful ; free. She brings either the joy of Life, Or the mercy of Death. She abhors Misery, but cherishes Sorrow.
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