"Think of him still as the same, I say, He is not dead, he is just - away."

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In the godforsaken, obscene quicksand of life, there is a deafening alleluia rising from the souls of those who weep, and of those who weep with those who weep. If you watch, you will see The hand of God putting the stars back in their skies one by one.

— Ann Weems