One is not idle because one is absorbed. There is both visible and invisible labor. To contemplate is to toil to think is to do. The crossed arms work the clasped hands act. The eyes upturned to Heaven are an act of creation.
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief of deep contrition and of unspeakable love.
