Love is the most
beautiful thing on earth, the most holy and satisfyin'. But I do not ask
you as a politician, but as a human bein', which would you like best, the
love of a strong, earnest tender nature, for in man or woman 'the strongest
are the tenderest, the loving are the daring,' which would you like best,
the love and respect of such a nature full of wit, of tenderness, of
infinite variety, or the love of a fool?
"A fool's love is wearin', it is insipid at best, and it turns to vinegar.
Why, sweetened water must turn to vinegar, it is its nater. And if a woman
is bright and true-hearted, she can't help seein' through an injustice. She
may be happy in her own home. Domestic affection, social enjoyments, the
delights of a cultured home and society, and the companionship of the man
she loves and who loves her, will, if she is a true woman, satisfy her own
personal needs and desires, and she would far ruther for her own selfish
happiness rest quietly in that love, that most blessed home.
"But the bright quick intellect that delights you can't help seein' an
injustice, can't help seein' through shams of all kinds, sham sentiment,
sham compliments, sham justice. The tender lovin' nature that blesses your
life can't help feelin' pity for them less blessed than herself. She looks
down through the love-guarded lattice of her home from which your care
would fain bar out all sights of woe and squaler, she looks down and sees
the weary toilers below, the hopeless, the wretched.
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