Speaking uses us up, speeds us up. Without prayer, that act of confession for merely existing, one might live forever and not know it.

If you have an ancestor who is a Benedictine monk, we would rather not know it.

Forgive us our trespasses," says Margarethe, "and get out of our way.

No," she cried, "no, no, I'm not a harem, I'm not a woman, I'm not a person, no.

Of course. You get everything from books.

For fun? Maybe evil is an art form.

There may be no city in the clouds, but dreaming of it can enliven the spirit.