Gradually and unconsciously, I was led to the absurd trivialities of believing that a fig weeps when it is picked, and that the fig tree its mother sheds milky tears. Yet if some saint ate it, provided that the sin of picking was done not by his own hand but by another's, then he would digest it in his stomach and as a result would breathe out angels, or rather, as he groaned in prayer and retched he would bring up bits of God.
-Confessions, Book III.
Twenty Fifteen
9 years ago
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