And they all begin in the same way--O God-- And not one of them has the faintest notion of whom or what or why that God is.
Whoever, whatever, wherever He is, His power must be supreme to make itself felt through the thick veil of doubt and despair that hangs so heavily about His identity.
Sally Bishop, who could not say the Apostles' Creed with unswerving conscience--to whom the story of the Resurrection was fogged, blurred with a thousand inconsistencies--even she could not dispense with that moment in each day, that moment of abandonment--the flinging of one's burden of questions at the feet of a deity whose identity it would be impossible to define.
For many minutes she stayed there on her knees, her arms wound round about her head, her shoulders rising wearily with each breath that she took.
Long after Janet had fallen asleep, and when the cold was numbing in her limbs, she stayed there, pouring forth her importunate questions--the woman begging guidance, when she knows full well what course she is going to adopt..