I will be still and instant and go home.
“This world you seem to live in is not home to you,” Devorah said. “And somewhere in your mind you know that this is true. A memory of home keeps haunting you, a nagging thought that no matter what you do here, no matter how hard you pray, or work or do the right thing happiness will always only be fleeting. Like a song whose name is long forgotten and only partially recalled, but from which you remember how lovely it was, how wonderful the setting where you heard it, and how you loved those who were there and listened with you – that is our memory of home.”
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