And when that crop grew, and was harvested, no man had crumbled a hot clod in his fingers and let the earth sift past his fingertips. No man had touched the seed, or lusted for the growth. Men ate what they had not raised, had no connection with the bread. The land bore under iron, and under iron gradually died; for it was not loved or hated, it had no prayers or curses.

5967. You must not hope to reap Wheat, where you sow'd none.

Never that is shall die.

What's dead may never die.

What is that which can never die It is that faithful force that is born into us that one that is greater than us that calls new seed to the open and battered and barren places so that we can be resown. It is this force in its insistence in its loyalty to us in its love of us in its most often mysterious ways that is far greater far more majestic and far more ancient than any heretofore ever known.

Among the world's crops wheat is pre-eminent both in regard to its antiquity and its importance as a food of mankind. In prehistoric times it was cultivated throughout Europe, and was one of the most valuable cereals of ancient Persia, Greece, and Egypt.

Enduring as heaven and earth—no love however ancient can ever die;
Timeless as light and shadow—no debt of breeze and moonlight can ever be repaid.

Let no fruit grow on thee henceforward for ever.

The soul of sweet delight can never be defiled.

Immortal amarant, a flower which once
In paradise, fast by the tree of life,
Began to bloom; but soon for man's offence
To heaven removed, where first it grew, there grows,
And flowers aloft, shading the fount of life,
And where the river of bliss through midst of heaven
Rolls o'er elysian flowers her amber stream:
With these that never fade the spirits elect
Bind their resplendent locks.

A thing therefore never returns to nothing.

Si le grain de blé qui est tombé en terre ne meurt, il reste seul ; mais, s'il meurt, il porte beaucoup de fruit. Celui qui aime sa vie la perdra, et celui qui hait sa vie dans ce monde la conservera pour la vie éternelle.

’T was ever thus from childhood’s hour! My fondest hopes would not decay:
I never loved a tree or flower Which was the first to fade away.

No seed shall perish which the soul hath sown.