Alas, they cannot see. This rage of hellish furies is my sacred temple. Here, in the very heart of anguish, loss, terror, despair, and hatred, I have a secret garden. My garden is so fragrant that the birds of heaven come to taste her nectars, to sing to me of sacred grace; and we listen to the teaching-movements of stars, and gently sip the ancient bliss of perfect adoration. Outside they see the damage. Inside, I am the living answer. Outside, they see the war. Inside, we are raising children from the dead.