Do the birds that pass so easily into the air go on voyages of discovery
past Sirius? And yet the air refuses to bear us, and wafts them gently
on its lightest zephyrs! We have sublime faculties--the fit companions
of a soul. It is not our self-conceit. The Milky Way is not our conceit.
The eclipses are not our conceit. The awful sweep of our whole family of
planets, moons, and sun, onward in celestial space, is not a conceit.
Therefore we possess our souls, flashing within caskets which have not
been altogether unworthy of their priceless treasures.