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that when she was a young girl, on a voyage from Philadelphia to Boston, her face suddenly lighted up with the true brightness of genius, as she said, “I love everybody in this whole world!”
If, afterwards, a vein of satire came to be mingled with this genial flow of human kindness, it was not Louisa's fault.
In like manner, Bronson Alcott rested his argument for immortality on the ground of the family affections.
“Such strong ties,” he reasoned, “could not have been made merely to be broken.”
Let us share his faith, and believe that they have not been broken.
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