It is still in the press. There is never a day when the type is not arranged, when the ink is not applied, or the pages are not primed. We are still in the dark night of faith. The paper is blacker than the ink, and there is great confusion in the type. It is written in characters of another world and there is no understanding it except in Heaven.
Mysteries can neither be seen nor felt, they are objects of faith.
Faith judges of their virtue and truth 24-25 only by their origin, for they are so obscure in themselves that all that they show only serves to hide them and to blind those who judge only by reason. Teach me, divine Spirit, to read in this book of life. I desire to become Your disciple and, like a little child, to believe what I cannot understand, and cannot see. Sufficient for me that it is my Master who speaks. That is enough.