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a record of hate far more than love...

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"It isn't. when you come to think of it a quite respectable trade, the detection of the innocent, for aren't lovers nearly always innocent? They have committed no crime, they are certain in their own minds that they have done no wrong, 'as long as no one but myself is hurt', the old tag is ready on their lips, and love, of course, excuses everything -- so they believe and so I used to believe in the days when I loved." Maurice Bendrix,The End of the Affair (Graham Greene)

This is a record of hate far more than love.

Many think like Maurice in that for them, a story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which, to look ahead.

There are some, no perhaps there are few, who, like Moabite Ruth and Rahab of Jericho, believe that the best is yet to come. That the ending to their stories will exceed far more abundantly above all that they ever asked or hoped for. Or even imagined.

I am a believer in …