Up until now, dear Savior, I have not fed on your truth. I have fed on the ceremonies of religion, on the display of certain virtues that cultivate courage, good manners, regularity in outward actions, the victory over my character that I needed to win in order not to show anything that might not be perfect. I have attempted to put the outside in order, without changing what is inside me. Word of God made flesh, be hidden within this weak creature that I am, just as you are hidden within the element of the sacramental bread.
François Fénelon
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What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
Johnny Cash
Pine Trees in Pushkin Park, 1927. Photo by Aleksandr Rodchenko.
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