Love from one being to another can only be that two solitudes come nearer, recognize and protect and comfort each other.
The human voice cannot mount up into these boundless solitudes.
Toil to some is happiness, and rest to others. This man can only breathe in crowds, and that man only in solitudes.
No person who has not spent a period of his life in those 'stark and sullen solitudes that sentinel the Pole' will understand fully what trees and flowers, sun-flecked turf and running streams mean to the soul of a man.
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