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-What's the use of loving me, as long as you don't respect me? cried the woman.

The man immediately made a solemn declaration of respect.

-If you don't respect God, how can I believe that you respect me? she insisted, still unsatisfied.

- God does not exist, my dear, while you are here in the flesh! Gaston smiled, trying to kiss her hand.

Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini !

The novitiate year was hard like a mortal sin. The temptation of silence and loneliness lasted seven weeks. Locked in the secluded cell, he could not talk to anyone but God.

As soon as he started reading, Axius felt seized by a strange emotion, as if all the depths of his soul had been stirred up. Reading, it always seemed to him that he was meeting things that were laying dormant inside him, that he once dreamed about and then forgot when he woke up. And nonetheless, it was about things that, he knew very well, he had never heard of before in this life.

Then he came across some baskets with tablets that kept the stories about the battles between the gods, about the creation of the world and people, about the great flood, about the descent of the goddess Istar, about the bravery of Gilgamesh... These stories caressed his heart. Reading them, it was like lifting into a new world, where all the secrets are unraveling.

Listening to her, his soul was enlightened. From now on, he was sure that Isit herself represented the secret of his being. Without her, his life could have no meaning, neither here nor in another world. In her eyes there is the brightness of the world of Osiris. Only by uniting with her, would he melt in the bosom of the great god.

...the loneliness was gray and oppressive. The soul trembled, like a flickering of ether in the infinite. The memory of pure life in another world shone like a refreshing light, like a promise of the fulfillment of hopes. A heavy expectation drew it more and more persistently towards an unknown target. Time was running alongside, the muddy waters in which drown all the changes...

Mahavira came out on land (from the Ganges). Loneliness tightly embraced him and sent shivers of terror into his soul. He said to himself that the great miracle had come true.
Vishnu called the old sage wounded in the heart by king Arjuna to the world of gods.
It seemed that only sin and punishment remained on earth, and he was afraid.

...and his mind opened like a flower under the kiss of the sun. He was beginning to understand things he hadn't even dreamed of, but which lay dormant in his heart. The sky and the earth opened their secrets and were populated with living beings, rulers of worlds. The soul no longer felt alone anywhere.
But he was 19 years old and his heart had strange tremors...

The mutual quest, unconscious and irresistible, is the very purpose of human life. To facilitate this search, all moral and social laws and conventions are made, remade and dismantled, everything that is emphatically called the progress of mankind. The instinct of love is reminiscent of the divine origin. [...] A human life is not enough to allow the meeting of man with woman.

It was a May morning when he met her, by chance, on a street full of people. He recognized her before approaching her, although he had never seen her before. For several days, his heart has been waiting and searching for her. And he found her among thousands of indifferent people.

After Spinoza passed away, he had refused to take care of another dog. The decision had not lasted long. A two-month-old Romanian shepherd puppy had appeared at his door with a golden bow attached to his collar -- a birthday gift from Shirin. Thick, white fluffy hair with pale grey patches all over. Calm and clever, and animal made for the mountains.

Into their God-diary Peri wrote: Believers favour answers over questions, clarity over uncertainty. Atheists, more or less the same. Funny, when it comes to God, Whom we know next to nothing about, very few of us actually say, 'I don't know'.

God was a maze without a map, a circle without a centre; the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that never seemed to fit together. If only she could solve this mystery, she could bring meaning to senselessness, reason to madness, order to chaos, and perhaps, too, she could learn to be happy.

Alert and compliant, Peri was a witness to the vendettas, watching how her loved ones would tear each other to pieces. Early on she learned that there was no fight more hurtful than a family fight, and no family fight more hurtful than one over God.

She lay there, thinking that she had always meant to take what she wanted from life. Well -- she hadn't wanted this. This was a stone that would need a good deal of salt and pepper.

Can't we do anything? she said.

We've done everything. There's no cure for old age.

How is Mamma?

As brave as she always is -- but I'm glad you could come.

When Alabama tried to get up she felt nervous, she felt monstrous, she felt bilious.

I can't stand this any longer, she screamed at the dozing David.I don't want to sleep with the men or imitate the women, and I can't stand it!

Look out, Alabama, I've got a headache, David protested.

I won't look out! I won't go to lunch! I'm going to sleep till time to go to the studio.

They were on their way to Paris. They were simply glad to be going. Children are always glad of something new, not realizing that there is everything in anything if the thing is complete in itself. Summer and love and beauty are much the same in Cannes or Connecticut. David was older than Alabama; he hadn’t really felt glad since his first success.

What can I do with myself, she thought restlessly.

[…] She began to blame David for the monotony.

‘Do you think he actually is a god?’ Alabama whispered to David. ‘He looks like you — except that he is full of the sun, whereas you are a moon person.’

Your picture of a boat was wrong; those funnels are ladies doing a vey courteous minuet, she commented.

Maybe. The moon makes things different. I don't like it.

Why not?

It spoils the darkness.

Oh, but it's so unhallowed! Alabama rose to her feet. Contracting her neck, she pulled herself high on her toes.

David, I'll fly for you, if you'll love me!

Fly, then.

Her ladyship insisted: I've given parties in one room after another in my house till finally I had to leave because of the broken fixtures, there being no place left to read.

Why didn't you have them mended?

I needed the money for more parties. Of course, I didn't want to read -- that was my husband. I spoil him so.

Boxing with the guests broke Sylvia's light, added milord...

New York was more full of reflections than of itself -- the only concrete things in town were the abstractions. Everybody wanted to pay the cabaret checks.

My dearest Mamma:
I have not been as you would have wanted me but I love you with all my heart and I will think of you every day. I hate leaving you alone with all your children gone. Don't forget me.
Alabama.

Being in love, none of her personal aphorisms were of the slightest help.

They stood on the frosted porch in the sea of mist quite far away from each other, yet Alabama could have sworn she was touching him, so magnetic were their two pairs of eyes.

She, she told herself, would move brightly along high places and stop to trespass and admire, and if the fine was a heavy one--well, there was no good in saving up beforehand to pay it. Full of these presumptuous resolves, she promised herself that if, in the future, her soul should come starving and crying for bread it should eat the stone she might have to offer without complaint or remorse.

-I want one of those bushes when I have a house, Joan pointed out.

-Joey! I can't afford it! I'll grow a beard instead, expostulated Harlan.

-I love little trees, arborvitae and juniper, and I'm going to have a long walk winding between like featherstitching and a terrace of Clotilde Soupert at the end.

Mamma,I don’t want to go to school any more,she said,reflectively

Why not?

I seem to know everything

Her mother stared at her in faintly hostile surprise; the child, thinking better of her intended expositions, reverted to her sister to save her face

What do you think Daddy will do to Dixie?

Oh, pshaw! Don’t worry your pretty head about things like that till you have to, if that’s what’s bothering you

‘Those girls,’ people said, ‘think they can do anything and get away with it.’

That was because of the sense of security they felt in their father. He was a living fortress.