This singing voice is the Chevrotte, so clear and so fresh that it seems to have put within me a purity like crystal since I have lived so near it.

This other voice, like that of a crowd, tender and deep, it is that of the entire earth--the grasses, the trees, all the peaceable life of this sacred corner which has so constantly worked for the good of my soul.
"And there are other voices which come from still farther away, from the elms of the garden of Monseigneur, and from this horizon of branches, the smallest of which interests itself in me, and wishes for me to be victorious.
"Then, again, this great, sovereign voice, it is that of my old friend, the Cathedral, who, eternally awake, both day and night, has taught me many important things.

Each one of the stones in the immense building, the little columns in the windows, the bell-towers of its piers, the flying buttresses of its apse, all have a murmur which I can distinguish, a language which I understand.

Listen to what they say: that hope remains even in death.

When one is really humble, love alone remains and triumphs.