"And without warning when we're almost at the top, the wheel that turns as all comes to a sudden stop! The wind that has blown us dies a quick and painless death. The air gets clammy and we hold each other's breath. We get a feeling that we're not alone in this... and then a God (who really ought not to exist) sticks out a great big hand and grabs me by the wrist and asks me:
- Why?
And I say:
- Well, God, it's like this. It may be arrogance, or just appaling taste, but I'd rather use my pain than let it all go to waste on some old God who tells me what I want to hear. As if I cannot tell obedience from fear! I wanna take my pleasures where and how I will, be they disgraceful or distasteful our distilled. And to be frank, I find that life has more appeal without a driver who's asleep behind the wheel.
Then God decides that he has taken quite enough of all this atheistic tosh I'm spouting off. And so he calls upon his favourite angel choir to sing of times when men were filled with Christian fire. But over-zealous angels flap their wings too fast, and cause the wind to blow and turn the wheel at last! And soon our feet are back on solid ground, and I hear a voice say:
Don't look down."
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