"As I make my slow pilgrimage through the world, a certain sense of beautiful mystery seems to gather and grow. I do not know why so much that is hard and painful and sad is interwoven with our life here; but I see, or seem to see, that it is meant be so interwoven. All the best and most beautiful flowers of character and thought seem to me to spring up in the track of suffering; and what is the most sorrowful of all mysteries, the mystery of death, becomes more solemn and awe-inspiring the nearer we advance to it. I do not mean that we are to go and search for unhappiness; but, on the other hand, the only happiness worth seeking for is a happiness which takes all these dark things into account, looks them in the face, reads the secret of their dim eyes and set lips, dwells with them, and learns to be tranquil in their presence.

Arthur Benson.