but a little time, when the body itself is gone. It is not different in kind from the distress we feel at the loss of a valued robe or jewel. The love that endures is the love of the mind, of the soul.
If then, in life, all joy was in the presence of the soul, if the experience of the soul was the whole of love, how, in mere dying, shall this undergo change?
For the soul dwells ever in the presence of the soul. At death, a veil that confused and dimmed has been withdrawn. Shall we weep for the veil, as for the wearer of the veil?
Was there union in life?
Then, two souls were set to a single melody. And they are so set still. In this setting of the soul is faithfulness.
To the soul, time does not exist. Only her own great purpose exists, shining clear and steady through the mists before her.
To her, death brings no change. Death changes the body alone. The soul loses
