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Burnett, Frances Hodgson, 1849-1924

"The Head of the House of Coombe"


Straight into hers they laughed--straight into hers.



CHAPTER XXXII


Through all aeons since all the worlds were made it is at least not
unthinkable that in all the worlds of which our own atom is one,
there has ruled a Force illimitable, unconquerable and inexplicable
and whichsoever its world and whatsoever the sign denoting or the
name given it, the Force--the Thing has been the same. Upon our
own atom of the universe it is given the generic name of Love and
its existence is that which the boldest need not defy, the most profound
need not attempt to explain with clarity, the most brilliantly
sophistical to argue away. Its forms of beauty, triviality,
magnificence, imbecility, loveliness, stupidity, holiness, purity
and bestiality neither detract from nor add to its unalterable
power. As the earth revolves upon its axis and reveals night and
day, Spring, Summer and Winter, so it reveals this ceaselessly
working Force. Men who were as gods have been uplifted or broken
by it, fools have trifled with it, brutes have sullied it, saints
have worshipped, poets sung and wits derided it. As electricity
is a force death dealing, or illuminating and power bestowing, so
is this Great Impeller, and it is fatuous--howsoever worldly wise
or moderately sardonic one would choose to be--to hint ironically
that its proportions are less than the ages have proved them.


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