Easter

"It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone. The world is full of dark derelicts. The better way - the Marulli of that old Rome would have known it - there comes a time for decent, honorable retirement, not dramatic, not punishment of self or family - just good-by, a warm bath and an opened vein, a warm sea and a razor blade. The ground swell on the rising tide whished into the Place and raised my legs and hips and swung them to the side and carried my wet folded raincoat out with it. I rolled on one hip and reached in my side pocket for my razor blades and I felt the lump. Then in wonder I remembered the caressing, stroking hands of the light-bearer. For a moment it resisted coming out of my wet pocket. Then in my hand it gathered every bit of light there was and seemed red - dark red. A surge of wave pushed me against the very back of the Place. And the tempo of the sea speeded up. I had to fight the water to get out, and I had to get out. I rolled and scrambled and splashed chest deep in the surf and the brisking waves pushed me against the old sea wall. I had to get back - had to return the talisman to its new owner. Else another light might go out." - John Steinbeck, "The Winter of Our Discontent"