I Don't Think There's Anything More Tiring

Our Home, Our Special Country, Is For All Of Us The Place Where We Find Liberation; A Very Difficult Word ... That Tries To Describe Something That Can't Be Described But Is The Only Thing Worth Having.

One Was Born A Certain Sort Of Person, And Though By Ceasless Struggle One Might Become As Nice As That Sort Of Person Ever Is, One Could Never Become As Nice As A Nicer Sort Of Person.

The Whole Universe Was Stilled As If Listening For A Voice. For The Space Of One Heartbeat There Was Peace On Earth. For One Fraction Of A Moment There Was No Deed Of Violence Wrought On Earth, No Hatred, No Fire, No Whirlwind, No Pain, No Fear. Existence Rested Against The Heart Of God, Then Sighed And Journeyed Again.

Jean Was Visited By One Of Her Rare Moments Of Happiness, One Of Those Moments When The Goodness Of God Was So Real To Her That It Was Like Taste And Scent; The Rough Strong Taste Of Honey In The Comb And The Scent Of Water. Her Thoughts Of God Had A Homeliness That At Times Seemed Shocking, In Spite Of Their Power, Which Could Rescue Her From Terror Or Evil With An Ease That Astonished Her.

There Is Always Something Particularly Delightful About Exceptions To A Rule.