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— Harold Clarke Goddard"There is no mystery in a looking glass until someone looks into it. Then, though it remains the same glass, it presents a different face to each man who holds it in front of him. The same is true of a work of art. It has no proper existence as art until someone is reflected in it--and no two will ever be reflected in the same way. However much we all see in common in such a work, at the center we behold a fragment of our own soul, and the greater the art the greater the fragment."
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O why was I born with a different face? Why was I not born like the rest of my race?
— William Blake
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Then I wondered if that's all God ever is--somebody who loves you enough to come back from the dead to visit every now and again. Or if that's all that other people ever are--different faces of God walking around.
— Sheri Reynolds
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