All I seem to see clearly--to clearly understand--is the dreadful brevity of life, the awful chances against living, the miracle of love in such a maelstrom, the insanity of one who dare not confess it, live for it, love to the uttermost with heart, soul, and body, while life endures, "All my instincts, all principles inherent or inculcated; all knowledge spiritual and intellectual, acquired; all precepts, maxims, proverbs, axioms incorporated and lately a part of me, seem trivial, empty, meaningless in sound and in form compared to the plain truths of Death.

For never until now did I understand that we walk always arm in arm with Death, that he squires us at every step, coolly joggles our elbow, touches our shoulder now and then, wakes us at dawn, puts out our night-light, and smooths the sheets we sleep under.
"I had thought of Death as something hiding very, very far away.
Yet I had already seen him enter my own house.

But now I understand how close he always is; and, somehow, it has changed--hardened, maybe--much that was vague and unformed in my character.

And, maybe, the knowledge is distorting it; I don't know.

All I know is that, before life ends, if there is a chance of fulfilment, I will take it.