love

Love is the only how on life's dark cloud. It is the morning and the evening star. It shines upon the babe, and sheds its radiance on the quiet tomb. It is the Mother of Art, the inspirer of poet, patriot and philosopher. It is the air and light to tired souls-builder of every home, kindler of every fire on every hearth. It was the first to dream of immortality. It fills the world with melody---enchanter that changes worthless things to joy, and makes right-loyal kings and queens of common clay. It is the perfume of that wondrous flower, he heart, and without that sacred passion, that divine swoon, we are less than beasts; but with it, earth is heaven and we are gods.

 Robert G. Ingersoll