Gone, alas, was any shred of confidence that she was God. That particular, supreme career was closed to her.
~ Richard Hughes, A High Wind in Jamaica
In one of the apocryphal gospels, the child Jesus makes twelve sparrows out of clay while playing on the banks of the Jordan. “Off you go!” he claps, and they fly away singing. It’s no sweat impressing your friends when you’re one of the Holy Trinity, I suppose. If I ever suspected I might be God, my first pottery class cured me of the delusion.