In the time it took Lara, clutching her pennies in
her fist, to make her way to the door past the worshipers without disturbing
them, buy two candles for herself and Olia, and turn back, Prov Afanasievich
had rattled off nine of the beatitudes at a pace suggesting that they were well
enough known without him.
Blessed are the poor in spirit.... Blessed are
they that mourn.... Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after
righteousness....
Lara started and stood still. This was about her.
He was saying: Happy are the downtrodden. They have something to tell about
themselves. They have everything before them. That was what He thought. That
was Christ's judgment.
~Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago
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