I perceive that there is no recognized law which can stand against the might of love.

And under the transient wing of the foliage, amid the continuous recessional of heaven and earth, we repeat "never"; we repeat "always"; and we proclaim it to eternity.
* * * * * * The leaves are falling; the year draws near to its end; the wedding is arranged to take place about Christmas.
That decision was mine; Marie said "yes," as usual, and her father, absorbed all the day in figures, would emerge from them at night, like a shipwrecked man, seeing darkly, passive, except on rare occasions when he had fits of mad obstinacy, and no one knew why.
In the early morning sometimes, when I was climbing Chestnut Hill on my way to work, Marie would appear before me at a corner, in the pale and blushing dawn.

We would walk on together, bathed in those fresh fires, and would watch the town at our feet rising again from its ashes.

Or, on my way back, she would suddenly be there, and we would walk side by side towards her home.

We loved each other too much to be able to talk.