All life was theirs, full, free, and generous beyond
conception. They owned the world, without even the trouble of knowing
that they owned it. They lived, simply staring at the universe with
eyes of exquisitely fashioned beauty. They knew joy and peace, and
were content with that.
They did communicate. Oh, yes, they shared each other's special
happiness. There was, it is true, no sound of broken syllables, no
speech which humans use to veil the very thing they would express; but
there was that simpler language which all Nature knows, which cannot
lie because it is unconscious, and by which constellations converse
with buttercups, and cedars with the flying drops of rain--there was
gesture. For gesture and attitude can convey all the important and
necessary things, while speech in the human sense is but an invention
of some sprite who wanted people to wonder what they really meant. In
sublimest moments it is never used even in the best circles of
intelligence; it drops away quite naturally; souls know one another
face to face in dumb but eloquent--gesture.
"The sun is out; I feel warm and happy; there is nothing in the world
I need!"
"You are beside me," he replied.
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