If God has human feelings he must often have a burning at the eyes
and a fullness at the throat at the strange Braveness of human
people: their Braveness as they go on in the daily life, with aching
dumbish minds and disgruntled bereft bodies and flattened pinched
gnawed hearts.
The easy human slattern way would be to sink beneath the burden.
Instead, people: I and Another and all others--seamstresses and
monotonous clerks and lawyers and housewives: sit upright in chairs
and talk into telephones and walk fast and eat breakfasts and brush
hair: all the while marooned in a morass of small wild unexciting
tasteless Pain.
Of others--what do I know?
But I might say, ‘Look, God, I am not fallen on the ground, from this
and that--utterly lost and down. But sitting, drooping but strong, in
a chair, mending a lamp-shade--neat, orderly and at-it in my misery.’
_Just beneath my skin_