Page:Love and its hidden history.djvu/11



But this, after all we do know, that—

this is truth. Life bereft of love were of little worth. But what is love ? Ought any power other than the Infinite attempt to answer? We all, at times, feel its force, and recognize its power, and yet not one of us really knows what this mysterious thing consists in. Some of us try to synthetize, others to analyze it—fruitlessly; and others still tell us that there are hundreds of distinct feelings and attractions, common to the human breast, all of which we call by separate names; and these fortify their notions by triumphantly pointing to apparent proofs of their correctness, and ask, "Is the love I feel toward my little pet dog, of the same species as that which I bear toward my friend, my parents, acquaintances, and my children, wife, husband,—God?" [sic] "Of