O Dwellers in the City of Love! Mortal blasts have beset the
everlasting candle, and the beauty of the celestial Youth is veiled in the
darkness of dust. The chief of the monarchs of love is wronged by the people of
tyranny and the dove of holiness lies prisoned in the talons of owls. The
dwellers in the pavilion of glory and the celestial concourse bewail and
lament, while ye repose in the realm of negligence, and esteem yourselves as of
the true friends. How vain are your imaginings!
- Baha’u’llah (‘The Hidden Words
of Baha’u’llah’)
