She calls him a pig, and she says he ain’t Valade. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. Silly, isn’t it? Undisciplined. . What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers.
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This video was uploaded to thiruvalluvan.com on 21-09-2024 07:53:55
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