For though she had long realized that every Cathedral is empty, that the Church is empty, that all of them contain nothing, that they are all of them, even the loveliest, only intricate hollow shells, and we hear in them only the backwash of human sighing, yet she knew that somewhere, however far driven back, beyond the last inland farms, and though silted in occluded waters, and welling sluggishly in foul narrows, there flows at every human limit the infinite water of the One True Sea.