“What do you consider the most quiescent state of the soul?”
“That state in which the mind clearly perceives it could not have afforded to have dispensed with one personal experience, least of all, with one sorrow which formed a part of that experience.”
“How few can subscribe to that, save in theory, yet I know by the few years of my own life, that I could not lose one of my experiences, least of all, those that deepened the mind; or gave me higher, broader views of life. I hope I shall live many years, Miss Bernard, for the more we know of this life, the better prepared shall we be to live and enjoy the other.”
“They are so interwoven that one must really know both well in order to act and live well in either.”
“Have you ever seen with your interior perceptions the conditions of mortals who have passed beyond the vale? I have felt their states, but have never seen them. I think you also have, for I have heard from your friend, Miss Wyman, of your wondrous power to see at times, those who have thrown aside the mortal. I should be deeply interested in a relation of any of your experiences at some future time when you feel inclined to give them; for my faith in the ability of spirits to return to earth, and influence us, is as deep and strong as my trust in God.”
“In some quiet hour, I will tell you many of my personal experiences. It is a strange, dual life I live, and sometimes I feel myself in such mixed states, that I scarcely know my mooring, if, indeed, I have any.”
“Some do not, I think.”
“I am one, then, of that class; I seem to belong everywhere, and to everybody.”
“I am quite certain of two, to whom you belong-myself and brother-but here we are in sight of home, and Basil is waiting for us on the piazza.”
“It is pleasant to have a brother like yours, and to me to look upon the relation you bear to each other, for usually the relation of brother and sister is so ordinary and means so little.”