Her Love Is My Life By Woodrow Wilson
I’ve been reckoning up, in a tumultuous, heartful sort of way, the value of my…wife to me. I can’t state the result – there are no terms of value in which it can be stated – but perhaps I can give you some idea of what its proportions would be if it were stated. She has taken all real pain out of my life: her wonderful loving sympathy exalts even my occasional moods of despondency into a sort or hallowed sadness out of which I come stronger and better. She has given to my ambitions a meaning, an assurance, and a purity which they never had before; with her by my side, ardently devoted to me and to my cause, understanding all my thoughts and all my aims, I feel that I can make the utmost of every power I possess. She has brought into my life the sunshine which was needed to keep it from growing stale and morbid: that has steadily been bringing back into my spirits their old gladness and boyhood, their old delight in play and laughter: – that sweetest sunshine of deep, womanly love, unfailing, gentle patience, even happy spirits and spontaneous mirth, that is purest, swiftest tonic to a spirit prone to fret and apt to flag. She has given me that perfect test of heart and mind of whose existence I had never so much as dreamed before she came to me, which springs out of assured oneness of hope and sympathy – and which, for me, means life and success. Above all she has given me herself to live for! Her arms are able to hold me up against the world: her eyes are able to charm away every care; her words are my solace and inspiration and all because her love is my life.
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