A bachelor's children are always young: they're immortal children - always lisping, waddling, helpless, and with a chance of turning out good.
Love supreme defies all sophistry.
But what is opportunity to the man who can't use it?
When what is good comes of age, and is likely to live, there is reason for rejoicing.
Go forward with joyful confidence.
Souls have complexions too: what will suit one will not suit another