ANATHEMA.
What shall I do? Tell me.
GUARDIAN.
What you are doing.
ANATHEMA.
You speak through silence—can I understand the language of your silence? Tell me.
GUARDIAN.
No. Never. My face is open, but you see it not. My speech is loud, but you hear it not. My commands are clear, but you know them not, Anathema. And you shall never see, and you shall never hear, and you shall never know, Anathema, unfortunate spirit, deathless in numbers, eternally alive in measures and in weights, but as yet unborn to life.
ANATHEMA.
Tormented.