He loved the beautiful, and was with color, form, and music touched to tears. He sided with the weak, the poor, and wronged, and lovingly gave alms. With loyal heart and with the purest hands he faithfully discharged all public trusts. He was a worshiper of liberty, a friend of the oppressed. He believed that happiness is the only good, reason the only torch, justice the only worship, humanity the only religion, and love the only priest.
Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of two eternities.
We strive in vain to look beyond the heights. We cry aloud, and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry. Let us believe, in spite of doubts and dogmas, of fears and tears, that these dear words are true of all the countless dead. The record of a generous life runs like a vine around the memory of our dead, and every sweet, unselfish act is now a perfumed flower. And now, to you, who have been chosen, from among the many men he loved, to do the last sad office for the dead, we give his sacred dust.