I slept with faith and found a corpse in my arms on awakening; I drank and danced all night with doubt and found her a virgin in the morning.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
My mother had faith in me, had more faith in me than I had in myself, and knowing that she did made me try to find faith. She believed in trying things.
I was emotionally and spiritually dried up, so I was just searching for God.
I drank the silence of God from a spring in the woods.
Praying privately in churches, I began to discover that heaven was my true home and also that it was here and now, woven into this life.
I was a wife and mother, blameless in moral life, with a deep sense of duty and a proud self-respect; it was while I was this that doubt struck me, and while I was in the guarded circle of the home, with no dream of outside work or outside liberty, that I lost all faith in Christianity.
I woke up many mornings not knowing what I'd done the night before. I'm amazed I'm not dead.
I used to be psychic, but I drank my way out of it.
I reached for sleep and drew it round me like a blanket muffling pain and thought together in the merciful dark.
I believed or thought I was disoriented and the victim of a bizarre dream and I believe I paced in and out of the room and possibly into one of the other rooms. I may have re-examined her, finally believing that this was true.
I was a virgin. People find that hard to believe, but when you're raised in a church, that was just the way it is.