But what virtue I do have is in me and of me. Men deny the good that comes from themselves, calling it God. So do they with their won evil, calling it the Devil. — Maria McCann Copy Share Image
“Behold,' said the Voice, 'earthly beauty. It is nothing but seeming, for to the uninstructed eye the world appears fruitful and sweet, yet in… — Maria McCann Copy Share Image
“I mean that repeated offences, even when they secure forgiveness, drive out love. And from that I came to say that one may compel… — Maria McCann Copy Share Image
There had been a frozen mist here, and the trees were spun into feathers. Their fragile brilliance made me wonder why, into the spotlessness… — Maria McCann Copy Share Image
“Violent love eats up what it does love, and it is mere appetite. I scribbled on the bottom of this before sending it back:… — Maria McCann Copy Share Image
“How did men make themselves loved, I wondered. I had passed all my life with men who were loved but I seemed never to… — Maria McCann Copy Share Image
“I pictured Becs and myself together, squabbling, but always over little things, while I rotted away at the core from love of Ferris. It… — Maria McCann Copy Share Image
I followed him up the stairs. I was a fornicator, of unnatural appetite, in thrall to an Atheist. I repeated the words in my… — Maria McCann Copy Share Image
I wondered at him, so wise and so foolish, to have lived with me all these months and not know that the worst storms… — Maria McCann Copy Share Image
“I dig and plough at your command,' I replied, 'but you will not tell me how to shit.” — Maria McCann Copy Share Image
“God cuts out our path, makes a groove in the clay with His finger, and we poor blind ants slide down into it.” — Maria McCann Copy Share Image
