God does not die on the day when we cease to believe in a personal deity, but we die on the day when our lives cease to be illumined by the steady radiance, renewed daily, of a wonder, the source of which is beyond all reason.
God, the Artist Thou takest the pen– and the lines dance. Thou takest the flute– and the notes shimmer. Thou takest the brush– and the colours sing. So all things have meaning and beauty in that space beyond time where Thou art. How, then, can I hold back anything...
For all that has been, Thank You! For all that is to come, Yes!