Orlando,[12] who had already come to bid them welcome and offer his services, had at his request hastily caused a hut of boughs to be made, at the foot of a great beech.

It was there that he desired to dwell, at a stone's throw from the cells inhabited by his companions.
Brother Leo was charged to bring him each day that which he would need.
He retired to it immediately after this memorable conversation, but several days later, embarrassed no doubt by the pious curiosity of the friars, who watched all his movements, he went farther into the woods, and on Assumption Day he there began the Lent which he desired to observe in honor of the Archangel Michael and the celestial host.
Genius has its modesty as well as love.

The poet, the artist, the saint, need to be alone when the Spirit comes to move them.

Every effort of thought, of imagination, or of will is a prayer, and one does not pray in public.
Alas for the man who has not in his inmost heart some secret which may not be told, because it cannot be spoken, and because if it were spoken it could not be understood.

SECRETUM MEUM MIHI! Jesus felt it deeply: the raptures of Tabor are brief; they may not be told.
Before these soul mysteries materialists and devotees often meet and are of one mind in demanding precision in those things which can the least endure it.
The believer asks in what spot on the Verna Francis received the stigmata; whether the seraph which appeared to him was Jesus or a celestial spirit; what words were spoken as he imprinted them upon him;[13] and he no more understands that hour when Francis swooned with woe and love than the materialist, who asks to see with his eyes and touch with his hands the gaping wound.
Let us try to avoid these extremes.