A fantasy novel by George MacDonald

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316                           PHANTASTES:
pallor, and threw all the earth below as to the bottom of a pale sea of dreams. But she could not make me sad. I knew now, that it is by loving, and not by being loved, that one can come nearest the soul of another; yea, that, where two love, it is the loving of each other, and not the being beloved by each other, that originates and perfects and assures their blessedness. I knew that love gives to him that loveth, power over any soul beloved, even if that soul know him not, bringing him inwardly close to that spirit; a power that cannot be but for good; for in proportion as selfishness intrudes, the love ceases, and the power which springs therefrom dies. Yet all love will, one day, meet with its return. All true love will, one day, behold its own image in the eyes of the beloved, and be humbly glad. This is possible in the realms of lofty Death. " Ah! my friends," thought I, " how I will tend you, and wait upon you, and haunt you with my love."
My floating chariot bore me over a great city. Its faint dull sound steamed up into the air a sound how composed? " How many hopeless cries," thought I, " and how many mad shouts go to make up the tumult, here so faint where I float in eternal peace, knowing that they will one day
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