Her old thoughts were going to come in handy now, but new words would have to be made and said to fit them.

Gods always love the people who make 'em.

Most things are born in the mothering darkness and most things die. Darkness is the womb of creation, my boy. But the sun with his seven horns of flame is the father of life.

The whole matter revolves around the self-respect of my people. How much satisfaction can I get from a court order for somebody toassociate with me who does not wish me near them?

...she woke up in time to see the sun sending up spies ahead of him to mark out the road through the dark. He peeped up over the door sill of the world and made a little foolishness with red.

I hold that any religion that satisfies the individual urge is valid for that person.

She starched and ironed her face, forming it into just what people wanted to see.