Life is this:
You start in a room with only two doors. You choose one and go in—not out. The room you go in is bigger than the one you left and has more doors. You choose one and go in. This room is even larger with even more doors. You choose again and again. You continue on this way: into larger rooms with more doors, at first enjoying the look of so many doors, until at last you are in a vast room of infinite doors. And suddenly you realize the room is not at all vast with infinite doors. Rather it is that you, being divided by infinity, have merely become very small. Many rooms and “in’s” ago, there was a door. The one in the first room. But you can no longer find it among all these doors. It went to a place with no doors at all. It is a door you must not choose, in order to find it—to go out and go home. It is the door of faith.