hey only
festoon love and trust. Words are good, if they merely show us that
worthy natures do not suspect us, do not lock their closets when we are
in the house, do not put their souls in dress-costume to meet us, but
leave their thoughts and hearts naked in our presence, and are not
ashamed. Be it mine sometimes to sit with my friend when our mere
nearness and unity of spirit are felt by us both to be so utterly
eloquent, that, without silence, we forbear to set up any rivalry to
them by grave and meditated speech,--observing, it may be, a falling
leaf toyed with by the wind, and speaking words that drop from the lips
like falling leaves, and float down a zephyr that knows not which way to
blow. Some of the sweetest and most fruitful hours of life are these in
which we speak half-articulate nothings, merely airing the sense of
fellowship, and so replete with this wealth of vital intimacy that we
have room for nothing more.

But our aim is to regard communication as an instruction, and to
consider the more explicit and definite uses of words.

And of these the first, and one of the chief, is based upon the very
limitations which have been set forth,--upon the very fact that words
are _not_ vehicles. I have said that there is a certain divine solitude
of the soul; and of this solitude the uses are infinitely great. The
absolute soul of humanity, we hold, seeks to insphere itself in each
person, though in each giving itself a peculiar or individual
representation; and only as this insphering takes place are the ends of
creation attained, only so is man made indeed a _human_ life. Therefore
must we draw out of that, out of that alone; therefore truth is
permitted to come to us only out of these infinite depths, albeit
incitement, invitation, and the ability to draw from these native
fountains may be due to social connection. Because our life is really
enriched only as the absolute soul gives itself to us, therefore will it
suffer us no otherwise than by its gift to supply our want. And as it
cannot give itself to us save in response to a felt want, a seeking, an
inward demand, it belongs to the chief economies of our life to bring us
to this attitude of inward request, to this call and claim upon the
resources of our intelligence.

Now words come to us as empty vessels, which we are to fill from within;
and in making for this purpose a requisition upon the perpetual contents
of reason, conscience, and imagination, we o