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was devastated to get your letter and I’m sorry I’ve made you feel so hurt. I hope for your own sake—for both our sakes—that the extremity of your distress when you wrote to me was partly due to the state you were in at that moment. All those typos (very unlike you) made me wonder if you’d been drinking. Which
Not buying that this would be his response: telling her she must be drunk (when she's actually furious and probably tears blurring her vision)
The home of my Father have room upon room upon room, read one of his Bible paraphrases, carefully refashioned to avoid troublesome words like “house” and “mansions.” As for John’s next bit, “if it were not so, I would have told you,” he’d ditched it and moved straight on to I will prepare a room for you—which in retrospect was a wiser decision than he’d known at the time, because the SLM wouldn’t have understood what John’s “if it were not so” assurance was supposed to mean. One of the most direct, straight-talking asides in the whole Bible was arcane nonsense here.
“You don’t take care of yourself when you’re out there,” she said. “For Christ’s sake, you’re skin and bone. And yeah, I know I’m blaspheming. But look at you.” He stared down at his wrists, which had always been bony, he thought. Well, maybe not that bony.
All terrestrial amino acids are present on Oasis? Also unlikely, especially among Oasan food all from whiteflower.
Nothing shall hurt you, said Luke. When thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned, said Isaiah. The Lord healeth all thy diseases, said Psalms. There it was: there it was, plain as the scar on this smug doctor’s face: the perpetual reprieve the Oasans called the Technique of Jesus.