After all the world is indeed beautiful and if we were any other creature than man we might be continuously happy in it.

Because it strikes me there is something greater than judgement. I think it is called mercy.

The world is not full of betrayers, it is full of people with decent motives and a full desire to do right by those who know them and love them. This is a little-known truth, but I think it is a truth nonetheless. Empirically, from all the years of my work, I would attest to that. I know it is a miraculous conclusion, but there it is. We like to make strangers of everyone. We are not wolves, but lambs astonished in the margins of the fields by sunlight and summer.

The human animal began as a mere wriggling thing in the ancient seas, struggling out onto land with many regrets. That is what brings us so full of longing to the sea.

The world begins anew with every birth, my father used to say. He forgot to say, with every death it ends. Or did not think he needed to. Because for a goodly part of his life he worked in a graveyard.

And whatever my life had been up to that day, it was another life after that. And that is the gospel truth.

For I did not want him to see, or to question me, for here contains already secrets, and my secrets are my fortune and my sanity.