It Was A Book To

Churches Are Wonderful And Beautiful, And They Are Vehicles For Religion, But No Church Can Have More Than A Very Little Of The Truth.

They... Threw Themselves Into The Interests Of The Rest, But Each Plowed His Or Her Own Furrow. Their Thoughts, Their Little Passions And Hopes And Desires, All Ran Along Separate Lines. Family Life Is Like This - Animated, But Collateral.

Adultery Is A Meanness And A Stealing, A Taking Away From Someone What Should Be Theirs, A Great Selfishness, And Surrounded And Guarded By Lies Lest It Should Be Found Out. And Out Of Meanness And Selfishness And Lying Flow Love And Joy And Peace Beyond Anything That Can Be Imagined.

We Know One Another's Faults, Virtues, Catastrophes, Mortifications, Triumphs, Rivalries, Desires, And How Long We Can Each Hang By Our Hands To A Bar. We Have Been Banded Together Under Pack Codes And Tribal Laws.

Words, Living And Ghostly, The Quick And The Dead, Crowd And Jostle The Otherwise Too Empty Corridors Of My Mind ... To Move Among This Bright, Strange, Often Fabulous Herd Of Beings, To Summon Them At My Will, To Fasten Them On To Paper Like Flies, That They May Decorate It, This Is The Pleasure Of Writing.