I don't pray because it makes sense to pray. I pray because my life doesn't make sense without prayer.
I am an old man, and I am dying...Will you remember me, Jacob?I promise, one day, I will join you, Mr. Gold.Mr. Gold's laughter sounded like a trumpet and brought light to the corners of the room.
A blush of breeze rose from the grass. Jacob felt as if an angel's wing had beat against his cheek. He touched his cheek slowly. He felt embarrassed by the thought.That I should think an angel came to me.He wept. And, again, the brush of breeze against his cheek.
During the night, angels stared down through the stars into Jacob's world. They watched him sleep. They commented on the way his body folded on the bed. They liked this man. They drew their wings over him and stood guard by his soul.