“Love is life. Selfishness is death. Think of one who has no throb outside of himself; is he not entombed in a grave more dark than that of earth? The moment one begins to love, if only a dog, he begins to live. To love something that is different from one's self — a flower, a star, a human soul — what power is in it, what stir of all the faculties! Oh, the manifold life of love. How it flows and streams away on every side, in love of father and mother, brother and sister, husband and wife, and friend, and little children, of the tiniest speck and grandest orb. We rejoice in all things. Every sound is a delight. The very worm beneath our feet thrills us. We are alive all over.”