Hans clacked his side-lips. Do you have the sentence in your head that tomorrows procession will halt this pest of yours that it will bar the small-lives from the High WoodsIf it is as you say no. No more than prayer can stay a charging horse. But that is not why we pray. God is no cheap juggler as to play for a pfennig.

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.

Prayer is the quiet persistent living of our life of desire and faith in the presence of our God.

If God were not only to hear our prayers as he does ever and always but to answer them as we want them answered he would not be God our Saviour but the ministering genius of our destruction.

Life as we know it is our perception of reality.

We must never forget to pray and to ask God to remember us when He is arranging things so that we too may feel safe and have no anxiety about what is going to happen.

Her eyes were of different colors the left as brown as autumn the right as gray as Atlantic wind. Both seemed alive with questions that would never be voiced as if no words yet existed with which to frame them. She was nineteen years old or thereabouts her exact age was unknown. Her face was as fresh as an apple and as delicate as blossom but a marked depression in the bones beneath her left eye gave her features a disturbing asymmetry. Her mouth never curved into a smile. God it seemed had withheld that possibility as surely as from a blind man the power of sight. He had withheld much else. Amparo was touchedby genius by madness by the Devil or by a conspiracy of all these and more. She took no sacraments and appeared incapable of prayer. She had a horror of clocks and mirrors. By her own account she spoke with Angels and could hear the thoughts of animals and trees. She was passionately kind to all living things. She was a beam of starlight trapped in flesh and awaiting only the moment when it would continue on its journey into forever. p.33

God I am trying to recover my faith. Please dont abandon me in the middle ofthis adventure I prayed pushing my fears aside.

Today you are planting seeds to your dream. Be patient because it will be a large harvest.

Thats where thinking started where thinking stopped where all her prayers so long ago had dried up. She no longer prayed nor even dreamed of changing her father. Her dreams now played variations on the theme of escape. And they were nothing more than that just dreams just play. Shed been alone at the end of her dreams so many times before and never had God helped her escape her father because God couldnt because she would never escape her need to love him.