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218 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1977
Your comfort, dear Miss Bronte, should not depend on belief in some vague palace in the skies in which your loved ones sit and wait for you. That is something you cannot be sure of, and in any case it is deferred. Your comfort is here. In your memories. In the knowledge that those marvelous women, your sisters, somehow produced masterpieces which will live on, and reach the minds and hearts of thousands. In the splendid fact that they lived, interacted with the world about them according to their separate destinies, and then gave place to those who are to follow them, as those before gave place to them. That is the only miracle we need--the beautiful, unchangeable law of existence. To worship this as rational beings, we don't need the impediment of fancies and extensions of our own natural powers of observation--all that is may be observed through the senses... For the rest--the suffering, sorrow, and injustice, the cruelties and stupidities, those elements of human life which cause believers so much bafflement--these are our tasks, and we are fitter to do them if we are not wasting our reasoning powers struggling to reconcile omnipotence and benevolence in a 'perfect' God. These ills are man's--his blunders, his responsibilities. You cannot imagine the sense of freedom which ensues when one breaks the last chain and accepts that no prayers but only constant endeavors can put these things right.... Shall I tell you what must sustain you? Your belief in man. Your love for your sisters and brother, dead or alive. And, most of all, your work. It is all within you, the strength to do what you have a will to do, and what put it there is the inviolable law of nature that makes flowers grow out of the branch of a tree."