But, as a writer in a southern journal expressed it, Why do
these aged curiosities never tell us what use they have made of this
prolonged existence? Mark Twain said cheerfully, "Methuselah lived
nine hundred and sixty-nine years; but what of that? There was
nothing doing." No drama on the stage is a success unless it has
what we call a supreme moment; and the drama of our individual lives
can not be really interesting or important unless it has some
moments when we live intensely, when we live longer than some
persons live in years; moments that settle our purpose and destiny.
Oh, we're sunk enough here, God knows!
But not quite so sunk that moments,
Sure, tho' seldom, are denied us,
When the spirit's true endowments
Stand out plainly from its false ones,
And apprise it if pursuing
Or the right way or the wrong way,
To its triumph or undoing.
There are flashes struck from midnights,
There are fire-flames noondays kindle,
Whereby piled-up honours perish,
Whereby swollen ambitions dwindle.
Pages:
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147