One Real Thing Is Closer To God

... The Divine Knowing - What The Father Knows, And What The Word Says In Response To That Knowing, And What The Spirit Broods Upon Under The Speaking Of The Word - All That Eternal Intellectual Activity Isn't Just Daydreaming. It's The Cause Of Everything That Is. God Doesn't Find Out About Creation; He Knows It Into Being. His Knowing Has Hair On It. It Is An Effective Act. What He Knows, Is. What He Thinks, By The Very Fact Of His Thinking, Jumps From No-thing Into Thing. He Never Thought Of Anything That Wasn't.

That, You Know, Is Why The World Exists At All. It Remains Outside The Cosmic Garbage Can Of Nothingness, Not Because It Is Such A Solemn Necessity That Nobody Can Get Rid Of It, But Because It Is The Orange Peel Hung On God's Chandelier, The Wishbone In His Kitchen Closet. He Likes It; Therefore, It Stays. The Whole Marvelous Collection Of Stones, Skins, Feathers, And String Exists Because At Least One Lover Has Never Quite Taken His Eye Off It, Because The Dominus Vivificans Has His Delight With The Sons Of Men.

Lord, Please Restore To Us The Comfort Of Merit And Demerit. Show Us That There Is At Least Something We Can Do. Tell Us That At The End Of The Day There Will At Least Be One Redeeming Card Of Our Very Own. Lord, If It Is Not Too Much To Ask, Send Us To Bed With A Few Shreds Of Self-respect Upon Which We Can Congratulate Ourselves. But Whatever You Do, Do Not Preach Grace. Give Us Something To Do, Anything; But Spare Us The Indignity Of This Indiscriminate Acceptance.

A Silent Lover Is One Who Doesn't Know His Job.

The Bread And The Pastry, The Cheeses And Wine, And The Sugar Go Into The Supper Of The Lamb Because We Do. It Is Our Love That Brings The City Home. It Is I Grant You, An Incautious And Extravagant Hope. But Only Outlandish Hopes Can Make Themselves At Home.