Vincent [Holy father]

And on his knees, he asked the Lord, «What is right and what is wrong? Where is the line that I can't cross and where is the person that I can't touch? Is everything I do a sin, and is everything I haven't done a sin?»
And his words, bouncing off the empty domes of the marble columns, seemed to reach Him anyway. He closes his eyes, listens, but in response there is only the rustle of candle flames and the hiss of wax. Disappointed, for the umpteenth time, he gets up from the cold floor. He casts a rural glance at the crucifixion. It seems to him as silent and meaningless as the empty domes, the tall pillars, this floor and these words. It has been dark outside for a long time and the sharp. Rain is drumming on the metal canopy.
No, he did not believe in God, like many in his entourage, but he found it funny once again to ask questions alone, the answers to which are terrible to hear, and then leave the temple last in silence.

And on his knees, he asked the Lord, "What is right and what is wrong? Where is the line that I can't cross and where is the person that I can't touch? Is everything I do a sin, and is everything I haven't done a sin?"
And his words, bouncing off the empty domes of the marble columns, seemed to reach Him anyway. He closes his eyes, listens, but in response there is only the rustle of candle flames and the hiss of wax. Disappointed, for the umpteenth time, he gets up from the cold floor. He casts a rural glance at the crucifixion. It seems to him as silent and meaningless as the empty domes, the tall pillars, this floor and these words. It has been dark outside for a long time and the sharp rain is drumming on the metal canopy.
No, he did not believe in God, like many in his entourage, but he found it funny once again to ask questions alone, the answers to which are terrible to hear, and then leave the temple last in silence.