Book: Spire

You should know that. If anything, same as you. Negligible. And I realize their insignificance. And you? Remember Ivo, Jocelyn. You made the boy a Canon. Only because his father gave logs for the spire. You see. He has as much right in the Cathedral, as you have. Or me. But it's at least less harm. He was always on the hunt. And you choked us like a curse. When I saw you in authority of the Abbot, sometimes my heart ached and my breath. And here's what I say. Although now hangs over us this stone block, among the canons of peace and harmony, like a balm poured over our souls, because there is no you.

I thought it'd be easy. I thought the spire would complete a stone Bible, will be the stone Apocalypse. In his madness and I didn't realize that with each step I will be given a new lesson and a new force. And there was no one to instruct me. I had to build, obeying only his faith, not listening to anyone's advice. There was no other way. But people become dull, like a bad cutter, or broken, like an ax with ax. I was too consumed with his vision to take that into account, and, except for vision, not lacking anything.

Jocelyn came to the layout, in order to cheer up. He pulled out the spire from the nest because the tree was bloated, and held it reverently, like a Shrine. He caressed his cock in his hands, looked at him, as mother to child. The layout of the spire was eighteen inches, the lower half is made in the form of a rectangle, was cut high window and ended in a forest of slender towers, above which rose the edge, thin, without a single decoration, with a tiny cross on the end.

Since at Joslyn for the first time wafted the stench out of the hole a lot to him have changed. Now he's noticed this disgusting smell mixed with around the Cathedral to the smell of incense and the burnt wax can be used as water quietly leaked to the grave of the mighty of this world on both sides of the choir and under the arches of the main nave. And happened to notice that he is not alone. Live, which made his contempt for life is their craft, it was a reminder too unceremoniously and sent the service with inappropriate disgust on their faces.

- Well, Roger, my son? The master straightened up, brushed the dust from his knees, dusted off his hands. Diggers have resumed work, shovels rustled. - Do you understand what that means, father? - Only that the legends are right. But legends are always right. - You priests choose their legends to taste.

He laughed, vzdornov chin and shaking his head. God the Father was illuminated with his glory, and the sunlight streamed through the stained glass window, following his movements, giftware illumed the faces of Abraham, Isaac and once again God the Father. Laughing he had tears, and before the eyes multiplied iridescent circles, spokes, arches. Vzdornov chin and Asuras, he firmly, in both hands, held in front of a mock-up of the spire - Oh joy... - half of my life I've waited for this day!

There are women whose ignorance is stronger than gates and bars.

To explain what the meaning of our lives? Think of the moth that lives only one day. But the Raven knows something about yesterday and the day before yesterday. Raven knows what the sunrise. Maybe he knows that tomorrow the sun will rise again. And the moth doesn't know. Neither the moth doesn't know what a sunrise! And so we are with you! No, Roger, I'm not going to read you a sermon of how brief our earthly life. We know that it's unbearable long, and nevertheless it is necessary to transfer. But our lives have meaning because we are both choices. We are like moths. We don't know what awaits us when we rise up, foot for foot. But we must live your day from morning to evening, live every minute, discovering something new.

And death is not so absurd as life because there is nothing more absurd than this torn apart by the horror of the lump, which, as the tongue of the fading fire, trembles under the ribs.

There is an affinity between the people who once sat beside a dying fire and measured it with my life.

... The human mind everywhere opens the laws and however, easily deceived, like a baby.

Insolence oppress another.

How can I ask others what I can't do myself?