I seem to have stopped, at random, in front of the richness of a single being.

I think of the "humble, quiet lives," and it appears to me within a few words, and that in what they call a "quiet, lowly life," there are immense expectations and waitings and weariness.
I understand why they want to believe in God, and consequently why they do believe in Him, since faith comes at will.
I remember, while I lean on this wall and listen, that one day in the past not far from here, a lowly woman raised her voice and said, "That woman does not believe in God! It's because she has no children, or else because they've never been ill." And I remember, too, without being able to picture them to myself, all the voices I have heard saying, "It would be too unjust, if there were no God!" There is no other proof of God's existence than the need we have of Him.

God is not God--He is the name of all that we lack.

He is our dream, carried to the sky.

God is a prayer, He is not some one.
They put all His kind actions into the eternal future, they hide them in the unknown.