"worst fears: that God was not good. that the earth you stood upon shifted, and chasms yawned. that people, falling, clutched for one another for help and none was forthcoming. that the basis for all things was evil. that the beauty of the evening, now settling in a yellow glow on the stone of the cottage barns, the swallows dipping and soaring, a sudden host of butterflies in the long grasses in the foreground, was the lie: a deceitful sheen on which hopeful visions flitted momentarily, and that long, long ago, evil had won against good, death over life. that in the light which suffused all things, and was there, if you had eyes for it, in the glow of the sun against the stone walls, as well as in the dancing of the butterflies- that in this she had been mocked." -worst fears, by fay weldon
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