I know you know, and you know that I know that you know. It spirals on from there, so let's just assume the dot dot dot.

My god, it is you I fear. I have written you a letter. Take pity on me. The heart of my god: have it given back to me.

To cheat oneself out of love is the most terrible deception; it is an eternal loss for which there is no reparation, either in time or in eternity.

That was the thing he resented about religion, Bickel thought—the way it appealed to emotion rather than intelligence.