east of eden
“I had to find out my stupidities for myself. These were my stupidities: I thought the good are destroyed while the evil survive and prosper.
I thought that once an angry and disgusted God poured molten fire from a crucible to destroy or to purify his little handiwork of mud. I thought I had inherited both the scars of the fire and the impurities which made the fire necessary – all inherited, I thought. All inherited…
That isn’t good enough. That isn’t good enough thinking. Maybe… maybe you’ll come to know that every [wo]man in every generation is refired. Does a craftsman, even in his old age, lose his hunger to make a perfect cup – thin, strong, translucent?” He held his cup to the light. “All impurities burned out and ready for a glorious flux, and for that – more fire. And then either the slag heap or, perhaps what no one in the world every quite gives up, perfection.” He drained his cup and he said loudly:
“Cal, listen to me. Can you think that whatever made us – would stop trying?”