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“There were opiates for remorse, drugs to that could lull the moral sense to sleep. But here was a visible symbol of the degradation of sin. Here was an ever-present sign of the ruin men brought upon their souls.”

A man may have lived all of his life in the gray, and the land and trees of him dark and somber. The events, even the important ones, may have trooped by faceless and pale. And then -the glory- so that cricket song sweetens his ears, the smell of the earth rises chanting into his nose, and the dappling light under the tree blesses his eyes. Then a man pours outward, a torrent of him, and yet his is not diminished.