The Perfect Moment, Once Lost, Is Not

There Was A Good Deal To Be Said, Hilary Decided, For Middle Age And Infirmity. The Years In Which One Demanded Much Of Life Were Left Behind, Together With The Bitterness Of Not Getting What One Wanted. One's Values, Too, Were Altered. Gifts That Once One Took For Granted, Sunshine And Birdsong, Freedom From Pain, Sleep And One's Daily Bread, Seemed Now So Extraordinarily Precious.

...there Began To Come To Her A First Dim Realization Of God's Humility. Rejected By The Proud In His Own Right By What Humble Means He Chose To Succor Them; Through The Spirit Of A Child, A Poor Gypsy Or An Old Man, By A Song Perhaps, Or Even It Might Be By The Fall Of A Leaf Or The Scent Of A Flower. For His Infinite And Humble Patience Nothing Was Too Small To Advance His Purpose Of Salvation And Eternity Was Not Too Long For Its Accomplishment.

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.

She Long Ago Accepted The Fact That Happiness Is Like, Swallows In Spring. It May Come And Nest Under Your Eaves Or It May Not. You Cannot Command It.

Water, Wind And Birdsong Were The Echoes In This Quiet Place Of A Great Chiming Symphony That Was Surging Around The World. Knee-deep In Grasses And Moon Daisies, Stella Stood And Listened, Swaying A Little As The Flowers And Trees Were Swaying, Her Spirit Voice Singing Loudly, Though Her Lips Were Still, And Every Pulse In Her Body Beating Its Hammer Strokes In Time To The Song.