"How do you know?" They ask me Looking at me with Earnest, questioning eyes. "How do you know When God is calling? There are no beckoning lights Cleaving the skies?"
"How do you know?" Their words probe deeply, Reviving anew the memories Of the years: Then was the world before me For my choosing-- Its beauty, fame, and love-- There were no fears. And yet The taste of fame that beckoned Lost its savor; Ambition's drive seemed suddenly To wane; And love-- Love grew too large for loving Without pain.
"How do you know?" They ask me "How did you know that God Was calling you?" How did I know? I cannot answer. I only know... I knew.
"One can try to deal with problems either by denying their existence or by facing up to them. The first method is the more comforting one, but only the second leads anywhere."
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