We mourn the blossoms of May because they are to whither; but we know that May is one day to have its revenge upon November, by the revolution of that solemn circle which never stops-which teaches us in our height of hope, ever to be sober, and in our depth of desolation, never to despair.
Her shoes were comfortable. They reflected her hope for the evening.
Earth is a homicide victim. We lose our children. There are wars. Disease. And God comes strolling by like a cosmic Billie Burke.
Perhaps evil is the crucible of goodness... and perhaps even Satan - Satan, in spite of himself - somehow serves to work out the will of God.
God never talks. But the devil keeps advertising, Father. The devil does a lot of commercials.
As far as God goes, I _am_ a nonbeliever. Still am. But when it comes to a devil-well, that's something else.
For I think belief in God is not a matter of reason at all; I think it finally is a matter of love.
We use concepts like "consciousness"-"mind"-"personality," but we don't really know yet what these things are.' He was shaking his head. 'Not really. Not at all.
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