break the loaf already baked by our ancestors, and to pour the wine which their holy feet had already passed from the grapes of old.
It is the potter’s hand I honour, not the man who buys the ware.
I honour those who sit at the loom rather than the boor who wears the cloth.
Who was this Jesus of Nazareth, and what is He? A man who dared not live His mind. Therefore He faded into oblivion and that is His end.
I beg you, charge not my ears with His words or His deeds. My heart is overfull with the prophets of old, and that is enough.