E.A.A. Wilson

Meanwhile, on Earth, a completely different esoteric plane of existence, Father Chuck awoke with a jolt. This time he was sure of it. Oh dear, he__ heard the Voice of God.What had the Good Lord said? Trembling, the little priest smoothed down his mustache. He was not the right man for a calling. Not the right man at all.

I have been capable of some mischief in the past. I know what rebellion feels like. Everyone and everything is provided with a destiny, but there is no obligation whatsoever to fulfill it. Some just prefer to ignore the humming of their soul.

Death is, in fact, oddly pleasant, and certainly an improvement on what comes immediately before it.

God? We don't know what He's like. But at least now that we're dead we all know we don't know, whereas on Earth we all thought we knew, and those who didn't know didn't know that they knew they didn't know. They didn't find that out till they'd been here in purgatory for a while. Now we all know we don't know. Even the angels.

In a world where people are too languid to make something of themselves out of effort, I sell them hope. What they do with it is up to them. Invariably they drink it and then hurl it down a gutter, but that__ their choice and their freedom. I won__ judge them.

Be prepared for a bit of a stinker! My little lambs always start bleating when told they're not going to Heaven.