God," said Benedict Fludd, "your God, that is, strides in and out of my life with no warning. One day he seems impossible-laughable, laughable-and the next, he is imperious." He stopped. He said "It is like the phases of the moon, maybe. Or the seasons of the sphere we live on, rolling in and out of the light, skeleton trees one day, and then snow, and afterwards the bright green veil and after that the full heat and shining. Only it is neither regular nor predictable. And there are-others-who stride in, when he takes himself off. Who seem persuasive. Like Hindoo demons who are gods in their own terms.
( A.S. Byatt )
[ The Children's Book ]
www.QuoteSweet.com