13. Times lose no time, nor do they idly roll through our senses.
They work strange operations on the mind? Behold, they came and went
from day to day, and by coming and going they disseminated in my mind
other ideas and other remembrances, and by little and little patched me
up again with the former kind of delights, unto which that sorrow of
mine yielded. But yet there succeeded, not certainly other sorrows,
yet the causes of other sorrows. For whence had that former sorrow so
easily penetrated to the quick, but that I had poured out my soul upon
the dust, in loving one who must die as if he were never to die? But
what revived and refreshed me especially was the consolations of other
friends,s with whom I did love what instead of Thee I loved. And
this was a monstrous fable and protracted lie, by whose adulterous
contact our soul, which lay itching in our ears, was being polluted.
But that fable would not die to me so oft as any of my friends died.
There were other things in them which did more lay hold of my mind,
to discourse and jest with them; to indulge in an interchange of
kindnesses; to read together pleasant books; together to trifle, and
together to be earnest; to differ at times without ill-humour, as a
man would do with his own self; and even by the infrequency of these
differences to give zest to our more frequent consentings; sometimes
teaching, sometimes being taught; longing for the absent with
impatience, and welcoming the coming with joy. These and similar
expressions, emanating from the hearts of those who loved and were
beloved in return, by the countenance, the tongue, the!eyes, and a
thousand pleasing movements, were! so much fuel to melt our souls
together, and out of many to make but one.