Antonius Block: Wait a moment.Death: You all say that. But I grant no reprieves.
Is it so terribly inconceivable to comprehend God with one's senses? Why does he hide in a cloud of half-promises and unseen miracles? How can we believe in the faithful when we lack faith? What will happen to us who want to believe, but can not? What about those who neither want to nor can believe? Why can't I kill God in me? Why does He live on in me in a humiliating way - despite my wanting to evict Him from my heart? Why is He, despite all, a mocking reality I can't be rid of?
Mia: One day is like another. There's nothing strange about that. Summer is better than Winter, of course, because you aren't cold. But, Spring is best of all.Jof: I wrote a song about Spring. Would you like to hear it?Mia: Not now, Jof. Our guests may not care for your songs.Jöns, squire: By all means. I write songs myself.Jof: You see?Jöns, squire: I know one about a wanton fish I'm sure you've never heard.
Mia: Who did you see?Jof: The Virgin Mary.Mia: Did you really see her?Jof: She was so close I could have touched her. She wore a golden crown and a blue robe with golden flowers. She was barefoot, and in her little brown hands she was holding the Child and teaching Him to walk. When she saw me, she smiled. My eyes filled with tears, and when I wiped them away, she was gone. And there was a great stillness everywhere, in heaven and on earth. You understand?Mia: The things you imagine.Jof: You don't believe me, but it's true. It's not the reality you see, but another kind.