The Nuptial Flight 
who approaches and smiles, the love that 
unlocks our heart, the death or sorrow 
that seals it, the September sky above us, 
this superb and delightful garden, wherein 
we see, as in Corneille’s ‘ Psyche,’ bow- 
ers of greenery resting on gilded statues, 
and the flocks grazing yonder, with their 
shepherd asleep, and the last houses of 
the village, and the sea between the trees, 
—all these are raised or degraded before 
they enter within us, are adorned or de- 
spoiled, in accordance with the little signal 
this choice of ours makes to them. We 
must learn to select from among these 
semblances of truth. I have spent my 
own life in eager search for the smaller 
truths, the physical causes; and now, at 
the end of my days, I begin to cherish, 
not what would lead me from these, but 
what would precede them, and, above all, 
what would somewhat surpass them.” 
We had attained the summit of a 
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