When the milk of the Word curdles

There is that restlessness, that itching, urging discontent in me again this morning.
The milk of the Word curdles before me or seems to sour within. Hatefulness and rebellion against all restraint is not far from the surface; and it is good that I am not alone here.
“Lead me not into temptation, but deliver me from evil….”
—15 January, 1951
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