Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - In the old Tower - III
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ears and the flashes of lurid light that pierce the
darkness. And those around Him say that the
thunder is the voice from His own storm driven
clouds and the flashes are the flashes of His own
lightning. And His tired eyelids close again.”
“Better so, venerable Archangel, better so!
For if His eyes had seen what I have seen and
His ears had heard what I have heard, it would
have repented the Lord once more that He had
created man. Once more He would have ordered
the fountains of the great deep to be broken up to
destroy man. This time He would have drowned
them all and left only the animals in the ark.”
“Beware of the wrath of God! Beware of
the wrath of God!”
“I am not afraid of God. But I am afraid of
those who once were men, of the stern prophets,
of the Holy Fathers, of St. Peter, whose severe
voice bade me await here his return.”
“I am rather afraid of St. Peter myself,”
admitted the aged Archangel, “you heard how
he rebuked me for having been led astray by
Lucifer. I have been forgiven by God himself
and suffered to return to His Heaven. Does St.
Peter not know that to forgive means to forget?
You are right, the prophets are severe. But
they are just, they were enlightened by God, and
they speak with His own voice. The Holy
Fathers can only read the thoughts of another
man by the dim light of mortal eyes, their voices
are the voices of men.”
“No man knows another man. How can they
judge what they do not know, what they do not
understand? I wish St. Francis was among
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