"A very, ah. Optimistic viewpoint." Though he knows it to be true. He's living proof of that. Or is he? Even he's not certain anymore, and God doesn't seem to be listening to him at the moment. Or, if He's listening, He isn't answering.
Frowning, she looks past him for a moment, at the golden altar and the ambo. Is it truly a matter that comes down to her? She is not the heavenly messenger, nothing is in her hands. She is to obey or to perish in Hell, there are only two ways.
"I would know if they revealed themselves to me." She sighs and closes the book, holding it gingerly between her hands, lifting it to her chest and pressing it to her breast. "The holiness is not mine but theirs, His. My task is merely to believe, when they show me the sign."
"And if they have no means to reveal themselves to you?" he asks, leaning against his broom a little. "If they had no proof. Would you take them at their word? Blind faith? Or would you require some form of proof?"
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"How would you know an angel, if you saw one?"
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"I would know if they revealed themselves to me." She sighs and closes the book, holding it gingerly between her hands, lifting it to her chest and pressing it to her breast. "The holiness is not mine but theirs, His. My task is merely to believe, when they show me the sign."
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