For A Good Man Fame

A Story Has No Beginning Or End: Arbitrarily One Chooses That Moment Of Experience From Which To Look Back Or From Which To Look Ahead.

God Is Love. I Don't Say The Heart Doesn't Feel A Taste Of It, But What A Taste. The Smallest Glass Of Love Mixed With A Pint Pot Of Ditch-water. We Wouldn't Recognize That Love. It Might Even Look Like Hate. It Would Be Enough To Scare Us - God's Love.

You Don't Bless What You Love...it's When You Want To Love And You Can't Manage It. You Stretch Out Your Hands And You Say God Forgive Me That I Can't Love But Bless This Thing Anyway...we Have To Bless What We Hate...it Would Be Better To Love, But That's Not Always Possible.

You Cannot Conceive, Nor Can I, Of The Appalling Strangeness Of The Mercy Of God.

But I'm A Bad Priest, You See. I Know--from Experience--how Much Beauty Satan Carried Down With Him When He Fell. Nobody Ever Said The Fallen Angels Were The Ugly Ones. Oh, No, They Were Just As Quick And Light And . . .