Excerpt from Cycles of Personal Belief
A fresh wind blows out of the dawn. In infancy the world itself is a paradise. But when afterwards we look back upon the auroral splendor of early childhood, we wonder how far to credit our memory. In the freshness of morning that radiance reappears now and then. The early light recalls to the heart the condition of original purity from which our consciousness has sprung. The course of the spring is full of fragrance and music, from the time when the crocuses bloom, and the bluebirds begin singing, till the sea-wind comes across the hay-fields gathering the scent of the first opening wild roses. The earth is stored with recollections, but there dwells in these an alien sweetness. Natural objects which gave us our first impressions must have reflected the light of some celestial sphere, as occasionally upon smooth surfaces we see with surprise a far-off view superimposed upon the outline of the surface itself.
Within the enchantment of childhood's happiness the heart rested in complete confidence. It was a condition of peace which left no trace of death or evil within the horizon, and if the soul could find itself therein once more, its questionings and wanderings would cease.
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