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Some people, looking only at the faults and tyrannies of government, have said: “Anarchy is better.” Others, looking at the misfortunes, the poverty, the crimes, of men, have, in a kind of pitying despair, reached the conclusion that the best of all is death. These are the opinions of those who have dwelt in gloom – of the self-imprisoned. By comparing long periods of time, we see that, on the whole, the human race is advancing; that the world is growing steadily, and surely, better; that each generation enjoys more and suffers less than its predecessor.

The time will come when the human race will be truly enlightened, when labor will receive its due reward, when the last institution begotten of ignorance and savagery will disappear. Love, human love, love of men and women, love of mothers fathers, and babes, is the perpetual and beneficent force. Not the love of phantoms – not the love that builds cathedrals and dungeons, that trembles and prays, that kneels and curses; but real love, the love that felled the forests, navigated the seas, subdued the earth, explored continents, built countless homes, and founded nations – the love that kindled the creative flame and wrought the miracles of art, that gave us all there is of music, from the cradle-song that gives to infancy its smiling sleep to the great symphony that bears the soul away with wings of fire – the real love, mother of every virtue and of every joy.

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