See them in love, this boy in this girl; is there any evil this side of mortality that can balance the splendor of this good? Here is a fulfillment of long centuries of civilization and culture; here, in romantic love, more than in the triumphs of thoughts or the victories of power, is the topmost reach of human beings.
Perhaps when it is too late we shall discover that we have sold the most precious thing in our civilization — the loyal love of a man for a woman — for the sake of the desolate security that cowards find in gold. Youth, if it were wise, would cherish love beyond all things else, keeping body and soul clean for its coming, lengthening its days with months of betrothal, sanctioning it with a marriage of solemn ritual, making all things subordinate to it resolutely. Wisdom, if it were young, would cherish love, nursing it with devotion, deepening it with sacrifice, vitalizing it with parentage, making all things subordinate to it till the end. Even though it consumes us in its service and overwhelms us with tragedy, even though it breaks us down with separations, let it be first. How can it matter what price we pay for love?
But she is proud, too, and feels a new maturity; she is a woman now, and not an idle girl, not a domestic ornament or a sexual convenience anymore. She goes through her ordeal bravely; when she sees her child she weeps for a moment and then marvels at the child’s unprecedented beauty. Fondly she slaves for it, through busy days and fragmentary nights, never having time to look for “happiness,” and yet showing in her eyes a new radiance and delight. And now what is this new tenderness in the father’s eyes, this new gentleness in the touch of his hands, this unwonted sincerity in his embrace, this new willingness to labor and cherish and protect? Perhaps here in the child, where one never thought to seek it, is the center of life, and the secret of content?
I count it as an unforgettable date in my life (July 2, 1946) when my grandson Jim, then four and a half years old, sitting in my lap, face to face, and feeling the fond embracement of my arms, surprised me with the tender assurance: “Even when you’re dead you will remember how much you loved me.”