I turned to Sara, tried to speak. She turned to me, eyes shining, and raised her fingertips to my mouth, then went back to the light, and the voice. Over the buzz I heard: "... there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance can push aside the curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. "Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. "No Santa Claus? Thank God, he lives! and lives forever! A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood." The echoes of the voice seemed to ring even after the light had faded and left a roomful of people staring at the place where it had been; then looking up, with widening eyes, into the faces of others. "I'll be damned," Sara whispered. "I will be damned! or just maybe ... maybe not, after all...." As I said, I don't know where it will end. Nobody does. END End of Project Gutenberg's The Trouble with Truth, by Julian F. Grow