Last words are only words.
The world was new each day for God so made it daily. Yet it contained within it all the evils as before, no more, no less.
When one has nothing left make ceremonies out of the air and breathe upon them.
Your heart's desire is to be told some mystery. The mystery is that there is no mystery.
It's the tide. It's the dismal tide. It's not the one thing.
Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge exists without my consent.