Forgiveness
The light of forgiveness never disappears, making sun and moon appear as poor watchmen. Its breath causes vengeance to succumb to a great silence. But what is the substance of this impassible light and breath? A man who forgives is an actor without a script, a traveler in a new city, a lousy gambler, an ethical improvisor. A man who offends is a grammatical error, a "road closed" sign in winter, a chess grandmaster, a sound moral argument. When a man forgives, he knows less about what it means than the man who offends.