There that we love each other will make no heart sore, not even hers whom here, perhaps, we have wronged; there will be no jealousies, since each and all, themselves happy in their own way and according to their own destinies, will rejoice in the happiness of others.

There, too, our life will be one life, our work one work, our thought one thought--nothing more shall separate us at all in that place where there is no change or shadow of turning.

Therefore," and she clasped her hands and looked upwards, her face shining like a saint's, although the tears ran down it, "therefore, 'O Death, where is thy sting?
O grave, where is thy victory ?'" "You talk like one upon the verge of it, who hears the beating of Death's wings.

It frightens me, Stella." "I know nothing of that; it may be to-night, or fifty years hence--we are always on the verge, and those Wings I have heard from childhood.
Fifty, even seventy years, and after them--all the Infinite; one tiny grain of sand compared to the bed of the great sea, that sea from which it was washed at dawn to be blown back again at nightfall." "But the dead forget--in that land all things are forgotten.

Were you to die I should call to you and you would not answer; and when my time came, I might look for you and never find you." "How dare you say it?
If I die, search, and you shall see.