I say, therefore, that there is no creature (toad, scorpion, or serpent) so noxious to man as the gods. Let them answer my charge if they can. It may well be that, instead of answering, they'll strike me mad or leprous or turn me into beast, bird, or tree. But will not all the world then know (and the gods will know it knows) that this is because they have no answer? . . .
. . . I ended my first book with the words no answer. I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer. Before your face questions die away. What other answer would suffice?1
1 (Lewis 1980, 250, 308)
Lewis, C.S. Till We Have Faces: A Novel of Cupid and Psyche. New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 1980.