The dead are not dead if we have loved them truly. In our own lives we give them immortality. Let us arise and take up the work they have left unfinished, and preserve the treasures they have won, and round out the circuit of their being to the fullness of an ampler orbit in our own.

The love of the human heart is the most real and the most
Beautiful of all the realities we know.
It is the richest gift of our manhood and womanhood.
It is the love that joins us together as lovers as husband and wife,
As father and mother, as parent and child,
and as friends and neighbors.

The love that once was born can not die
For it has become part of us, of our life,
Woven into the very texture of our being.
Each of us would wish to leave some part of ourselves,
So here and now we bear witness to the one we knew in life,
Who now in death bequeaths a subtle part, precious and beloved,
Which will be with us in truth and beauty,
In dignity and courage and love
To the end of our days.

Love is the expansion of two natures in such fashion that each include the other, each is enriched by the other.