Alea iacta est. The die has been cast.

Call me Silidons, for such I am.

Unbelievers enjoy the security of their unbelief; there is great confidence in ignorance.

Early man recognised these lines of force and marked them out on the landscape with, well, any old thing, really standing stones, ditches, mounds, tumps, sacred wells, and that sort of thing. And, later on, with churches, market crosses, crossroads, and whatnot.

We are closest to Christ when sharing the world’s misery. Think you Jesus came to remove our pains? Wherever did you get that notion? The Lord came, not to remove our suffering, but to show us the way through it to the glory beyond. We can overcome our travails. That is the promise of the cross.

That Arthur has not always existed seems odd to me. Like the wind on the moors and the wild winter stars, surely he has always lived . . . and always will.

They are young and life has no limits. Nothing is impossible, nothing beyond doing or knowing. The world is theirs and everything in it.