The word or the thought may be
wandering for ages, vibrating still, away off among the outer
creations of God. The angel that bore them at the beginning from the
lips or the heart, may be flying still, and generations and centuries
may have passed, before his journeying with them shall have ceased.
"It is a fanciful idea, that whatever we say or think, is immortal;
that every word we utter goes ringing through the universe forever;
that every thought of the heart becomes a creation, a thing of
vitality in some shape, starting forward among the things of some sort
of life, never to die! I have sometimes, in my dreamy hours,
speculated upon the truth of such a theory, and reasoned with myself
in favor of its reality. All I can say in its favor, however, is that
I cannot disprove it. It may be true, or it may not. There are other
mysteries quite as incomprehensible, the results of which we can see,
without being able to penetrate the darkness in which they dwell. But
assuming its truth, and appreciating the consequences which would
follow, we should rule the tongue with a sterner sway, and guard the
heart with a more watchful care than is our wont. Think of the obscene
word becoming a living entity, the profane oath a thing of life; the
filthy or impure thought, assuming form and vitality, all starting
forward to exist forever among the creations of infinite purity.
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