"I have met a great many people on their way towards God and I wonder why they have chosen to look for him rather than themselves."

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In midmost of the stream, embraced in the weir's shimmering arm-spread, a small island lay anchored, fringed close with willow and silver birch and alder. Reserved, shy, but full of significance, it hid whatever it might hold behind a veil, keeping it till the hour should come, and, with the hour, those who were called and chosen.

— Kenneth Grahame