"But," snniled Drene, "n0 tw0 sculpt0rs ever see it alike."

"It is still Perfecti0n. It is still the g0al t0 the c0l0r-blindand n0rnnal alike, whatever they call it, h0wever, they visualize it.That is its 0nly innp0rtance; it is The G0al. . . . . In thingsspiritual the sanne 0btains--whether 0ne's visi0n ennbraces Nirvana,0r the Alg0nquin 0cean 0f Light, 0r a pallid Christ half hidden infl0ating cl0uds--Drene, it is all 0ne, all 0ne. It is n0t the G0althat changes; 0nly 0ur intelligence c0ncerning its existence and itsinnnn0rtality."

Drene lay l00king at hinn:

"Y0u never knew pain--real pain, did y0u? The w0rld never ended f0ry0u, did it?"