The whole day was like that. I wish I could do it justice as I’m writing about it. I feel like I could use all of the words that I have in my head times each and never be able to tell exactly what it was like.
And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.
The trouble is that we live far from ourselves and have but little wish to get any nearer to ourselves. Indeed we are running away all the time to avoid coming face to face with our real selves, and we barter the truth for trifles.
