 And the little voice inside that speaks sometimes is from the Lord, sometimes it's not. You've got to be a little careful with it. But I distinctly heard in my heart and mind, with my hands nailed to the wood of the cross, I was a feast for the flies. I could almost not go on with the Mass. I mean, I was just overwhelmed that if Jesus is who we think he is, the hand that set the stars to spinning, the hand through which the Father created all things,