"God, give me grace, give me substance, give me value, give me virtue, give me faith. For, if I have no faith, I fear I am speaking to myself."
"Find it for yourself, and find me for yourself," he answers dully and dispassionately, “for I have no faith in you if I'm just speaking to myself."
"Who, then are you and then what is faith? What is virtue and what am I?"
The cool wind spins like a whirlpool in response to an otherwise unresponsive space. The inquisition falls to the ground, and his head aches with inquisitiveness. Inquiring on Inquiries submitted via enlightenment requires otherwise unrequited prerequisites.
"Otherwise unrequited prerequisites? What the fuck does that mean?"
"You are an unrequited prerequisite to life. The fuck is what that means."
"Devil, dear, why must you sleep by my bedside? For, you give me no comfort."
"Quite the contrary -yur his lust find loving in god- I am you, and you sleep by your own bedside."