“Flora was in that state where the spirit may be willing but the flesh is weak and wishes to go on holiday - and where the flesh in most cases wins hands down with a packed suitcase. It did so now. So she did what many a researcher both great and insignificant does when they are stuck. She yawned while contemplating how to catch the Muse by surprising Her. Almost invariably, the Muse has seen it all before - and also yawns.”

“And what?" Arranulf yawned."How did it go?""How did what go?""Don't play with my feet, as we say in Ramaldah. You were seen, Landemere.”

“The spirit was willing but the flesh was weak.”

“O but," quoth she, "great griefe will not be tould, And can more easily be thought, then said." "Right so"; quoth he, "but he, that never would, Could never: will to might gives greatest aid." "But grief," quoth she, "does great grow displaid, If then it find not helpe, and breedes despaire." "Despaire breedes not," quoth he, "where faith is staid." "No faith so fast," quoth she, "but flesh does paire.""Flesh may empaire," quoth he, "but reason can repaire.”

“Then she felt herself, she said, to enter into the very bosom of God, where she was transformed into her Beloved, so completely that not all the temptations of the world, the flesh, and the devil could ever separate her from His love...She gave them a conviction that she could find no pleasure on earth except in the contemplation of the divine mercy.”

“She pressed her hand against her chest. No heart. So where did the love she felt come from?”