But my book is asking to be ended, my story must be brought to a close, not because there is no more to be said about Martin, but because I, like an indolent craftsman, growing careless as his task is ending, have abandoned the effort, beaten by the weight of the material. For although it was possible to depict his outward actions in words (after a fashion), no language at all-none, I can say with truth-could ever depict his interior life, his everyday behaviour and his mind ever fixed upon heaven. I say again, not even Homer, if, as the saying goes, he returned from Hades, could do justice to his perseverance and self-discipline in abstinence and fasting; to his capacity for night vigils and prayer; to the nights,