How did you merit so much devotion so quickly?' I asked, making no attempt to keep the sarcasm from my voice.
'I show them Heaven', said she, without a trace of irony. 'People are so desperate for light'.

For the merest moment I couldn't breathe. Something inside me quivered, some oud string plucked by his words, and if I breathed it would stop.

He did not know the truth of me, yet he had perceived something true about me that no one else had ever noticed. And in spite of that—or perhaps because of it—he believed me good, believed me worth taking seriously, and his belief, for one vertiginous moment, made me want to be better than I was.

I was drawn to his aloofness, the way cats gravitate toward people who’d rather avoid them.

The truth may not be told. Here is an acceptable lie.

More insomniacs!' cried the doctor. 'Come in, come in".

But are you finding monastic history a very compelling reason to live?"
"I'm not human," he said. "I don't require a reason to live. Living is my default condition."
I couldn't help it; I laughed, and teas weleld in my eyes. That answer was quintessentially Orma, distilled to his elemental Orma-ness.