The human soul has still greater need of the ideal than of the real. It is by the real that we exist; it is by the ideal that we live.
Victor HugoAbout author
- Author's profession: Author, Writer
- Nationality: french
- Born: February 26, 1802
- Died: May 22, 1885
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When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me. With showers and dewdrops wet: And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale. Sing on as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight. That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply I may forget.
Christina G. Rossetti
The divine reproach Jesus felt so exquisitely, because of His meekly standing in
for us, fulfilled yet another prophecy: ‘Reproach hath broken my heart; and I am full
of heaviness: and I looked for some to take pity, but there was none; and for
comforters, but I found none’ (Ps. 69:20). His heart was broken, as He did ‘suffer
both body and spirit’ (D& C 19:18). He trembled because of pain, and yet He,
amidst profound aloneness, finished His preparations, bringing to pass the
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Neal A. Maxwell
