"If love were all," she breathed, as though in answer to it, "I'd come."
"If love were all," he repeated. "I wonder why it isn't? What is there on earth aside from this? What more can heaven be than love—without the fear of parting?"
"No more," she replied. "We've lost each other in this life, but there's another life to come."
Whirling Atoms
"'Helen's lips are drifting dust,'" he quoted.
"Perhaps not. That which once was Helen may be alive to-day in a thousand different forms. A violet upon a mossy bank, a bough of apple blossoms mirrored in a pool, the blood upon some rust-stained sword, a woman waiting, somewhere, for a lover who does not come."
"And her soul?"
"Drawn back into the Universal soul, to be born anew, in part or all."
"What a pagan you are!"
"Yes," she responded, smiling a little, "I am pagan and heathen and Christian martyr and much else. I am everything that I can understand and nothing that I cannot. Don't you see?"