Go not forth to call Dame Sorrow
From the dim fields of Tomorrow;
Let her roam there all unheeded,
She will come when she is needed;
Then, when she draws near thy door,
She will find God there before.
—George MacDonald, unpublished poem;
recited by Jerry Root at Hutchmoot Homebound, October 2021
White-raving storm of molten metals, [the Sun] is but a coal from the altar of the Father's never-ending sacrifice to his children. See every little flower straighten its stalk, lift up its neck, and with outstretched head stand expectant: something more than the sun, greater than the light, is coming, is coming -- none the less surely coming that it is long upon the road! What matters to-day, or to-morrow, or ten thousand years to Life himself, to Love himself! He is coming, is coming, and the necks of all humanity are stretched out to see him come! Every morning will they thus outstretch themselves, every evening will they droop and wait -- until he comes. -- Is this but an airdrawn vision? When he comes, will he indeed find them watching thus?
—Lilith, chapter XLV,
When a heart is really alive, then it is able to think live things. There is one heart all whose thoughts are strong, happy creatures, and whose very dreams are lives. When some pray, they lift heavy thoughts from the ground, only to drop them on it again; others send up their prayers in living shapes, this or that, the nearest likeness to each. All live things were thoughts to begin with, and are fit therefore to be used by those that think. When one says to the great Thinker: —"Here is one of thy thoughts: I am thinking it now!" that is a prayer -- a word to the big heart from one of its own little hearts.
—Mr. Raven to the Narrator,
Lilith, chapter V,