"The thing about signs from God is that you can never be sure. In the morning, going to the Porta Potti, I saw a deer. There was also a dead pigeon being a smorgas-bird for crows near the perimeter when I went with a message for an Angel. And the shed skin of some small snake that Grahame had collected. If those were signs, what did they mean? God loved me? God hated me? God didn’t care?… I saw more signs than I can remember. The moon was still shining like a pale penny at noon. There was an eagle wheeling overhead at four. A pair of bluejays squabbled in a fir tree when I came out of the Place of Eating after dinner. God was saying yes? God was saying no? God wasn’t speaking at all?"