I like not only to be loved, but also to be told that I am loved. I am not sure that you are of the same kind. But the realm of silence is large enou… - George Eliot

Apropos of the "The Lifted Veil," I think it will not be judicious to reprint it at present. I care for the idea which it embodies, and which justifies its painfulness. A motto which I wrote on it yesterday perhaps is a sufficient indication of that idea: —

Even people whose lives have been made various by learning sometimes find it hard to keep a fast hold on their habitual views of life, on their faith in the Invisible - nay, on the sense that their past joys and sorrows are a real experience, when they are suddenly transported to a new land, where the beings around them know nothing of their history, and share none of their ideas - where their mother earth shows another lap, and human life has other forms than those on which their souls have been nourished. Minds that have been unhinged from their old faith and love have perhaps sought this Lethean influence of exile in which the past becomes dreamy because its symbols have all vanished, and the present too is dreamy because it is linked with no memories.

I see a face of love, Fair as sweet music when my heart was strong: Yea — art thou come again to me, great Song?" The face bent over him like silver night In long-remembered summers; that calm light Of days which shine in firmaments of thought, That past unchangeable, from change still wrought.