human
What are we? And why are we what we are? Yes, mother--I know that you are good, and that all you say is true. But it is not all. There is all the world beyond it. To live, or not to live--but you know that this is not living! It is not meant to be living, as the people outside understand what living means. What does it all signify but death, when we take the veil, and lie before the altar, and are covered with a funeral pall? It means dying--then why not altogether dying? Has not God angels, in thousands, to praise Him and worship Him, and pray for sinners on earth? And they sing and pray gladly, because they are blessed and do not suffer, as we do. Why should God want us, poor little nuns, to live half dead, and to praise Him with voices that crack with the cold in winter, and to kneel till we faint with the heat in summer, and to wear out our bodies with fasting and prayer and penance, till it is all we can do to crawl to our places in the choir? Not I--I am young and strong still--nor you, perhaps, for you are strong still, though you are not young. But many of the sisters--yes, they are the best ones, I know--they are killing themselves by inches before our eyes. You know it--I know it--they know it themselves. Why should they not find some shorter way of death for God's glory? Or if not, why should they not live happily, since many of them could? Why should God, who made us, wish us to destroy ourselves--or if He does, then why may we not do it in our own way? Ah--it would be so short--a knife-thrust, and then the great peace forever!
gpt
Blasphemy! she cried, finding breath at last.
human
It is blasphemy, or madness, or both! It is the evil one's own doing! Forgive her, good God! She does not know what she is saying! Almighty and most merciful God, forgive her!