But the hurtful words he was throwing at me were making me feel worthless, making me cry. He was sitting on the sofa, arms leaning on his lap, sitting...forward. I slowly made my way towards him, and crouched down in front of him. My head was down and tears were spilling down my cheeks. "I'm sorry," I breathed. I was expecting him to push me, or slap me. He was getting that angry. But he took me by surprise. I felt his hand cup the side of my face, pulling it gently upwards so we were looking at. "Yes, mental rather than physical stimulation, but that produced the same results. I am pleased that Brother Jerome hasn't brought the word back; I'd be obliged if you wouldn't either."The world can be a cold, cruel, unjust, and lonely place. It makes no sense at all to give up what pleasures of the body you can find in the pursuit of ascetic monasticism." Do Brother Jerome and the other Fathers of the Church take too much pleasure in their activities?" I asked, my mind on things other than. More

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