Where I Lived, and What I Lived For
sic, instead of factory bells, and a fragrance filling the air --
to a he darkness
bear its fruit, and prove itself to be good, no less t.
t man eacains an earlier,
more sacred, and auroral profaned, has
despaired of life, and is pursuing a descending and darkening way.
After a partial cessation of he soul of man, or
its organs rated eacries
again can make. All memorable events, I should
say, transpire in morning time and in a morning atmosphe
Vedas say, quot;All intelligences a; Poetry and
art, and t and most memorable of tions of men, date
from sucs and he
c t sunrise. to him whose
elastic and vigorous t keeps pace he day is a
perpetual morning. It matters not he
attitudes and labors of men. Morning is where
is a da to throw off sleep.
t men give so poor an account of they have
not been slumbering? t sucors. If they
been overcome hey would have performed
somet
only one in a million is aellectual
exertion, only one in a o a poetic or divine life.
to be ao be alive. I met a man who was
quite awake. he face?
e must learn to rea by
mec by an infinite expectation of the dawn, which
does not forsake us in our soundest sleep. I know of no more
encouraging fact tionable ability of man to elevate
is someto be able to
paint a particular picture, or to carve