“Say thy prayers, dear Faith, and go to bed at dusk, and no harm will come to thee.”
“
In smiles I saw fangs and in wine I tasted poison. The monk, cured of desires, craves the monastery and a bowl of curd upon rising. The gift of a day is more valuable than the promise of an evening. Let the devil get his hopes up. It is his time to waste. I am no apostate.
Juancho
This is truly a “nuff said post, so I’m obviously not leaving “well enough” alone.
The wine must have been cheap and a little too dry. I thought the monks got their curd only after the morning devotional.