Don't Waste Hate On Pink

Jean Was Visited By One Of Her Rare Moments Of Happiness, One Of Those Moments When The Goodness Of God Was So Real To Her That It Was Like Taste And Scent; The Rough Strong Taste Of Honey In The Comb And The Scent Of Water. Her Thoughts Of God Had A Homeliness That At Times Seemed Shocking, In Spite Of Their Power, Which Could Rescue Her From Terror Or Evil With An Ease That Astonished Her.

A Well-trained Dog Is Like Religion, It Sets The Deserving At Their Ease And Is A Terror To Evildoers.

But A Hare, Now, That Is A Different Thing Altogether. A Hare Is Not A Pet But A Person. Hares Are Clever And Brave And Loving, And They Have Fairy Blood In Them. It’s A Grand Thing To Have A Hare For A Friend.

...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.

Peace ... Was Contingent Upon A Certain Disposition Of The Soul, A Disposition To Receive The Gift That Only Detachment From Self Made Possible.