Night sends dreams to lift me to the stars, but I am nowhere nearer to God. It is not their point, I think. I have heard, instead, that the Kingdom of Heaven is within you, but I understood it not, whatever it may mean — but neither, truly, do I know anything of love, and I imagine that has something or two to do with it. So I go on my way, and I have stopped waiting for destiny to strike, for I have prayed for guidance… and no, no angel came to show me the way, but I have found things to fill the hours, purpose enough at present to keep me on through this day — what else is there, after all? For I imagine that which is above measures greatness not in the way of men: heroes, I imagine, for the most part are never known in this world, not even in their own hearts, those who humbly move mountains to save a blind man, and move them back, and no one gives it a thought at all…. Of myself, I say, I will do what I can: I think that not everyone does, and perhaps that it is not so easy as the phrase implies — but it may be that I speak the truth in spite of myself. Or so the story goes.