'Perhaps I may comfort thee. It will not be the first time I have ministered to such complaint.'
'No, thou canst not. My sorrow is too deep to be fathomed, and too sacred to expose.'
'I like thy thoughts, young man. Wert thou taught them yonder?' pointing towards the Temple.
'No; they are the fruit of a mind that receives no impetus from such fraud as so-called worship is.'
'Thou speakest strongly. What knowest thou of worship? A mind perturbed like thine is like a troubled sea, with never a place for calm. The worshipping soul is not thine.'
'True, friend; I may not be a worshipper, neither wish to be one. This life is a mystery; the next a deeper one. If we cannot understand this earth-life, and are unable to trust mortals whom we see and know, how, then, can we trust those whom we have not seen?'
'Shall we bestow our affections on the gods, who may not exist save in our imagination, or, if they be, for all we know, they may ridicule our adoration, make sport of us, tools of us to suit some purpose in pursuit of their own glory.'
'Art thou a philosopher?'
'I am an artist.'
'Why followest thou this profession?'