"Our souls, shamewounded by our sins, cling to us yet more, a woman to her lover clinging, the more the more. She trusts me, her hand gentle, the longlashed eyes. Now where the blue hell am I bringing her beyond the veil? Into the ineluctable modality of the ineluctable visuality. She, she, she. What she?"

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What is the hope that can give meaning to life? Without some form of hope, the Holy Father argues that life becomes tedious and potentially burdersome, even if it is marked by material influence and technical progress. The person without hope finds himself in an existential difficulty: For what enduring purpose am I clinging to this life that I love and do not want to lose?

— Raymond J. de Souza