"Wood? Of course a carpenter has to work with wood. Do you want to be a stonemason? Think, stones are harder than wood."
"But they give fire when struck together. Wood gives no sparks, nor would the Nazarenes yield any sparks, even if lightning struck them. They are like earth and damp straw. They are incapable of enthusiasm: they are only capable of languid irritation. But you'll not build a kingdom of heaven with irritation. I despise the wood that always smokes and never burns."
"My son, I fear you will make such enemies of them that——"
"That I shall not be able to stay in Nazareth. Isn't that what you mean, mother?"
"I am anxious about you, my son."
"Happy the mother who is nothing worse. I am quite safe." He stopped and took her hand. "Mother, I'm no longer a child or a boy. Do not trouble about me. Let me be as I am, and go where I will. There are other tasks to be fulfilled than building Jonas a cottage or Sarah a sheep-pen. The old world is breaking up, and the old heaven is falling into ruin. Let me go, mother; let me be the carpenter who shall build up the kingdom of heaven."
The constellations spread themselves across the sky. Mary let her son go on before, down to the little town; she walked slowly behind and wept. She stood alone and had no influence with him. Every day he became more incomprehensible.
To what would it lead?