Food shouldnt be that shade of green lass. Faoln MacIntyre

Och lass. Yer going to have to not do that. Faoln exhaled. Creeping up on a man is a dangerous thing and I confess Im jumpier than most. Yer feet are soft as a cats.I wasnt creeping anywhere I was going to make coffee and this is my house Ill creep anywhere I like Colleen muttered with a petulant scowl. But I wasnt creeping.

His deep voice drifted to her through the crowd of women. my lady when she returns. Och there ye are Blossom Faoln grinned standing up and taking her hand so she could ease back into the restaurant booth. These lasses were just asking if I was a stripper. I told them I doona think so he said his face clouded with uncertainty. Im not am IThe inquisitive lasses in question flushed scarlet and scattered to the four corners of the room at the murderous look on Colleens face. No youre not but I guess I can see how theyd think that she muttered darkly. What you are is a freaking estrogen magnet.

Identify yourself Colleen demanded. Ive got a bat and I will beat the living shit out of you if you so much as blink. Ive got a black belt she lied frantically andanda gun. A big one. - Colleen OBrien

Funny how I keep forgetting youre insane. - Colleen OBrien

We read the pagan sacred books with profit and delight. With myth and fable we are ever charmed and find a pleasure in the endless repetition of the beautiful poetic and absurd. We find in all these records of the past philosophies and dreams and efforts stained with tears of great and tender souls who tried to pierce the mystery of life and death to answer the eternal questions of the Whence and Whither and vainly sought to make with bits of shattered glass a mirror that would in very truth reflect the face and form of Natures perfect self.These myths were born of hopes and fears and tears and smiles and they were touched and colored by all there is of joy and grief between the rosy dawn of birth and deaths sad night. They clothed even the stars with passion and gave to gods the faults and frailties of the sons of men. In them the winds and waves were music and all the lakes and streams and springsthe mountains woods and perfumed dells were haunted by a thousand fairy forms. They thrilled the veins of Spring with tremulous desire made tawny Summers billowed breast the throne and home of love filled Autumns arms with sun-kissed grapes and gathered sheaves and pictured Winter as a weak old king who felt like Lear upon his withered face Cordelias tears. These myths though false are beautiful and have for many ages and in countless ways enriched the heart and kindled thought. But if the world were taught that all these things are true and all inspired of God and that eternal punishment will be the lot of him who dares deny or doubt the sweetest myth of all the Fable World would lose its beauty and become a scorned and hateful thing to every brave and thoughtful man.

But one day she handed me some more letters from people who had been researching fruitlessly through old newspapers hoping to find the real events. I remarked that it was sad they wasted so much time. Yes said Joan - and then absently but something did happen. Whether the something happened in the newspapers in some anecdote she has heard or in her imaginations interconnections with some other world or time I had no idea- and I knew better than to ask.

No Temple made by mortal human hands can ever compare to the Temple made by the gods themselves. That building of wood and stone that houses us and that many believe conceals the great Secret Temple from prying eyes somewhere in its heart of hearts is but a decoy for the masses who need this simple concrete limited thing in their lives. The real Temple is the whole world and there is nothing as divinely blessed as a blooming growing garden.

It is impossible to see how good work might be accomplished by people who think that our life in this world either signifies nothing or has only a negative significance.If on the other hand we believe that we are living souls Gods dust and Gods breath acting our parts among other creatures all made of the same dust and breath as ourselves and if we understand that we are free within the obvious limits of moral human life to do evil or good to ourselves and to the other creatures - then all our acts have a supreme significance. If it is true that we are living souls and morally free then all of us are artists. All of us are makers within mortal terms and limits of our lives of one anothers lives of things we need and use...If we think of ourselves as living souls immortal creatures living in the midst of a Creation that is mostly mysterious and if we see that everything we make or do cannot help but have an everlasting significance for ourselves for others and for the world then we see why some religious teachers have understood work as a form of prayer...Work connects us both to Creation and to eternity. pg. 316 Christianity and the Survival of Creation

Do you really believe in destiny How can I not believe in destiny when there is no difference between my memories and my dreams at night Theres no difference between their reality. And if I dream something first I remember it later when I am actually walking in the place or looking at the person I first dreamed of. Days later. Or years later. Destiny she walks with me.