When we stood thus on the crest of the Marble Cliffs, Brother Otho would often say that this was the meaning of life: reenacting creation in the ephemeral, the way a child at play imitates his father’s work. What gives meaning to sowing and procreation, to building and establishing order, to images and poetry, is that the masterwork is reflected in them as in a mirror of multicolored glass that soon shatters.