Mercia: I make you a priest, not a slave.
Eustace: No, its slavery.
Mercia: Priesthood. High Priesthood to the divine desire in all of us.
Eustace (retreating): Im afraid of that.
Mercia (snaring him with her eyes): Afraid! Afraid of worshipping love?
Eustace: Yes. Ive no vocation.
Mercia (dangerously): Does that mean youve no inclination?
Eustace: No. It means what it says.... You talk about priesthood of love. You seem to think no vocation is necessary, though I suppose youd admit it in the case of a priest of Buddhism. Religion is a dedication of the spirit; Love, a dedication of the heart. You cant dedicate your spirit till its broken; nor can you your heart; and hearts dont break as easily as crockery, let me tell you. (Espying Michael John in the passage): O’Sullivan.
Michael John (entering and curling himself up in the coal-scuttle): Speak.
Eustace: Tell her how long a mans heart must beat against that of a woman before it will break.