It is a clear, quiet, warm July night, steam rises from the wide river and cools us, a fish splashes lightly, the birds are silent, everywhere is quiet and beautiful, everything prays to God. Only the two of us are awake – me and the young man – and we talk about the beauty of God's world, about its great mystery. Every blade of grass, beetle, ant, bee, all astonishingly know their way, though they have no reason, they witness the mystery of God, constantly fulfilling it themselves. (…) What innocence, what trust, what beauty! It is touching to know that there is no sin in them… and Christ has been with them longer than with us. “Is it possible that they also have Christ?” the young man asks. “How could it be otherwise,” I tell him, “after all, the Word is for everyone. All creation and every creature, every leaf strives earnestly towards the Word, sings God's glory, cries out to Christ…”
(F. M. Dostoevsky /1821–1881/, The Brothers Karamazov)
