There must be always remaining in every man’s life some place for the singing of angels…. Something that gathers up in itself all the freshets of experience from drab and commonplace areas of living and glows in one bright white light of penetrating beauty and meaning – then passes. The commonplace is shot through now with new glory – old burdens become lighter, deep and ancient wounds lose much of their old, old hurtin.

Despite all the crassness, life is saved by the singing of angels.