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Quote by Janina Ramírez

“Women like Hild chose to join monasteries, rising to positions of great power as abbesses, gaining wisdom and influencing decision-making within the newly emerging church. They had a choice and they embraced lives that brought them in touch with the Christian continent, with new ideas, beautiful art and architecture, and a world of stories, saints and sinners that would change the ideological landscape of Britain long-term. Not until the last decades have women been able to assume such roles within the modern church, but for a short time in the seventh century they were the movers and shakers. [...]”

Quote by Janina Ramírez

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Janina Ramírez

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“This fallen world is not going to provide you with the proof of God’s love. Only faith will. And to have faith, you have to become like a madman in the eyes of this world. Just keep in mind that the world itself is mad. And so, to be a madman, according to the judgement of a mad world, is, in fact, to be perfectly sane. So, if that’s what it takes, then be mad. Be mad and reject the demonic whispers of the Devil that tells you Christ does not love you. Reject the fallen logic of this world that tells you Christ does not love you. Reject the wisdom of your fallen mind, reject the emotions of your fallen heart. For both will tell you at various moments in your life that Christ does not love you. Learn not to listen to them. Learn to be blind to them. Learn to be dead to them. There is a very good reason why Christ says one can only open to real life when one has rejected and lost this fallen life.”

“There is nothing softer on which to walk. Your footsteps are silent, as if treading on velvet; each step becomes slower and more cautious. To set foot on a moss path, even the short one at the top of my garden, slows your pace, every movement now more thoughtful. The luminosity of moss is extraordinary. It holds water, a dampness reminiscent of cloisters and cathedral walls. I imagine that is how the walls of a monastery might smell.”

“The the street was quiet again. Country quiet. That's partly what took city natives like the Whitlams by surprise, Falk thought: the quiet. He could understand them seeking out the idyllic country lifestyle, a lot of people did. The idea had an enticing, wholesome glow when it was weighed out from the back of a traffic jam, or while crammed into a gardenless apartment. They all had the same visions of breathing fresh clean air and knowing their neighbors. The kids would eat home-grown veggies and learn the value of an honest day's work. On arrival, as the empty moving truck disappeared form sight, they looked around and were always taken aback by the crushing vastness of the open land. The space was the thing that hit them first. There was so much of it. There was enough to drown in. To look out and see not another soul between you and the horizon could be a strange and disturbing sight. Soon, they discovered that the veggies didn't grow as willingly as they had in the city window box. That every single green shoot had to be coaxed and prized from the reluctant soil, and the neighbors were too busy doing the same on an industrial scale to muster much cheer in their greetings. There was no daily bumper-to-bumper commute, but there was also nowhere much to drive to. Falk didn't blame the Whitlams, he'd seen it many times before when he was a kid. The arrivals looked around at the barrenness and the scale and the sheer bloody hardness of the land, and before long their faces all said exactly the same thing. "I didn't know it was like this." He turned away, remembering how the rawness of local life had seeped into the kids' paintings at the school. Sad faces and brown landscapes.”