+++ |THE PERFUME OF LIFE | +++
The pinnacle of love is the only bow on Life's dark cloud, an arrow to reach through the darkness to discover the tendrils of light. It is the amber hued morning and the radiant evening star. It shines upon the babe- its slumbering brow beguiled to cherubine innocence, and dually also sheds its radiance on the eternal quiet tomb.
It is the matron and mother of art, inspirer of poet, patriot and philosopher. It is the air, light and beat of every heart - builder of every home, kindler of every fire on every hearth and tenderness of the velveteen rose bud- the sweetest of scents, the most tender of caresses.
It was the first to dream of immortality. It fills the world with melody; for music is the voice of love.
Love is the magician, the enchanter, that changes worthless things to joy, and makes royal kings and queens of common clay. It is the perfume of that wondrous flower, the quintessence of the soul... and without that sacred passion, that divine swoon, we are less than beasts; but with it, earth is heaven, and we are as gods.
Wɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪs ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇs ᴏɴ Lᴇᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀɪғᴛɪɴɢ...
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