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Lore posted:

That morning, when the bonfires were lit and the convicts were raising their ghastly pleas to the indifferent inquisitors, a white dove came down from heaven and perched on the shoulder of a prisoner, where it stayed until it burned with him.

Lore posted:

"It has got to him, brother, the Miracle is within these walls," said the friar, scared.

"Grab that piece of wood and help me block his cell," answered the other friar, younger than him.

And, while they both parted slowly, listening to the screams and banging through the massive wooden door, a small, round object rolled from under it.

Lore posted:

... I hear his lament. The one who was believed mute from the beginning, since there were witnesses to the First Miracle. The afflicted one who asked for punishment, and had it granted to him. I hear his lament. Even if the Father is no longer with us, even if only his images, large and small, remain in all the sacred places. I hear his lament. It is the Miracle that makes me hear it, this is my punishment as the Eldest Brother and guardian of this congregation whose mystery is the silence of the Father. I hear his lament, and I don't want to hear it anymore. I will have yours cover His. That is my penance...

Lyrics to 'Següiriya to your Eyes like Stars' posted:

"There is a small girl with two star-like eyes
Who, when she looks at me, makes me stay by her side

They say she's a saint, came down from the sky
Do not cry, my child, or I'll get lost on the way

What is it that tolls?
The bells in the distance

What is it that cries?
On her face, eyes star-like."

Deogracias' Farewell posted:

Brother Abbot, you know that I have been a scribe in this abbey since I was but a wee child. I have written about our church, our saints and our Miracle of the Greatest Pain. I must inform you that I have made the decision to leave, although I intend to continue writing. In these walls I cannot be a true witness of the works of the Miracle. I need to appreciate with my own eyes your holy works. I will be a teller of the Miracle wherever it takes me, rain or shine, or scorching sand under my bare feet.

Lyrics to 'Verdiales of the Forsaken Hamlet' posted:

"Whether in rain, sun or wind
May this land blessed be

Whether walking or in deep sleep
May this land blessed be

Whether by day, or in obscurity
May this land blessed be."