rest by the sea and dream; that they may dance and sing, and eat and drink.
I will work towards that end with all my heart. If employment they must
have--and the restlessness of the mind will insure that some will be
followed--then they will find scope enough in the perfection of their
physical frames, in the expansion of the mind, and in the
enlargement of the soul. They shall not work for bread, but for
their souls. I am willing to divide and share all I shall ever have for this
purpose, though I think the end will rather be gained by organisation than
by sharing alone.

In these material things, too, I think that we require another circle of
ideas, and I believe that such ideas are possible, and, in a manner of
speaking, exist. Let me exhort every one to do their utmost to think outside
and beyond our present circle of ideas. For every idea gained is a hundred
years of slavery remitted. Even with the idea of organisation which promises
most I am not satisfied, but endeavour to get beyond and outside it, so that
the time now necessary may be shortened. Besides which, I see that many of
our difficulties arise from obscure and remote causes--obscure like the
shape of bones, for whose strange curves there is no familiar term. We must
endeavour to understand the crookedness and unfamiliar curves of the
conditions of life. Beyond that still there are other ideas. Never, never
rest contented with any circle of ideas, but always be certain that a wider
one is still possible. For my
thought is like a hyperbola that continually widens ascending.

For grief there is no known consolation. It is useless to fill our hearts
with bubbles. A loved one gone is gone, and as to the future--even if there
is a future--it is unknown. To assure ourselves otherwise is to soothe the
mind with illusions; the bitterness of it is inconsolable. The sentiments of
trust chipped out on tombstones are touching instances of the innate