“The Great Father who loves all things.”
“Methinks then I am nothing.”
“Nothing, Igraine?”
"You say God loves all men and women. Why, then, have I been cursed with perversities ever since I was born, tormented with contradictions, baffled, and mocked, till the eternal trivialities of life now make my soul sick in my body?"
“Sorrow is heaven sent to chasten, just as rain freshens the leaves.”
“Old, old proverb. Rain comes from clouds; clouds hide the sun; how can sorrow be good, child, when it darkens the light of life, hides God from the heart, and makes the soul bitter?”
“That seems the wrong spirit, Igraine.”
“So meek folk say; we are not all mild earth to be smitten and make no moan. There are sea-spirits that lash and foam, fire-spirits that leap and burn. My spirit is of the flame; am I to be cursed, then, because I was born with a soul of fire?”
“We cannot answer all this, Igraine.”
“I hate to bow down blindly, to cast ashes on the head because a superstition bids us so.”