Come, let's away to prison: We two alone will sing like birds in a cage: When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down, And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live, and pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh at gilded butterflies ... and take upon us the mystery of things, as if we were God's spies ...
There is an incline from silence to language, to the truth of the word; and the gravitational force of this incline pushes truth on still further from language down into the active life of the world.
