“The year's at the springAnd day's at the morn;Morning's at seven;The hill-side's dew-pearled;The lark's on the wing;The snail's on the thorn;God's in His heaven—All's right with the world!”

“Valmiki the Poet held all the moving world inside a water drop in his hand.The gods and saints from heaven looked down on Lanka,And Valmiki looked down at the gods in the morning of Time.”

“Gods in his heaven, all's right with the world”

“God created the world in seven days, but those days weren't necessarily twenty-four-hour days. Each one of His days might have been a million years long. Human time means nothing in the realm of Heaven, where clocks probably don't have hands, but golden arms, and the arms belong to God. On which day did the mammoth get created? It wasn't on the seventh day, since that was the day of rest. Quite possibly it came on the morning of the fifth an d went back out again the same afternoon. Thinking of creations come and gone in such a short amount of time makes Mawmaw sad.”

“Perhaps Sadness will use the shimmering wings of the morning kissed with dew and promise to sail away, and the dark Heart of the Night will rush headlong into the blinding light of the Day, to kiss it full and hard upon the mouth and embrace life's brilliance once more...”

“Runes, runes, runes... Runes. An inverted Algiz rune. The caption next to it said “Chernobog.” The Black God. Right. Of course, it wouldn’t be Chernobog, God of Morning Dew on the Rose Petals, but a woman could always hope.”