If only we know, boss, what the stones and rain and flowers say.Maybe they call -- call us -- and we don’t hear them.When will people’s ears open, boss?When shall we have our eyes open to see?When shall we open our arms to embrace everything -- stones, rain, flowers, and men?What d'you think about that, boss?And what do your books have to say about it.
Love, sooner or later, forces us out of time. It does not accept limit. Of all that we feel and do, all the virtues and all the sins, love alone crowds us at last over the edge of the world. For love is not explainable or even justifiable. Love itself is the justifier. We do not make it. If it did not happen to us, we could not imagine it. Love includes the world and time as a pregnant woman includes her child whose wrongs she will suffer and forgive. Love is in the world but is not altogether of it. It is of eternity. It takes us there when it most holds us here.