And Into The Brown Paper Bag Of

Anyone Too Undisciplined, Too Self-righteous Or Too Self-centered To Live In The World As It Is Has A Tendency To Idealize A World Which Ought To Be. But No Matter What Political Or Religious Direction Such Idealists Choose, Their Visions Always Share One Telling Characteristic: In Their Utopias, Heavens Or Brave New Worlds, Their Greatest Personal Weakness Suddenly Appears To Be A Strength.

Then In October, Indian Summer, The Air Turned So Soft, The Sunlight So Fragile, And Each Day's Loveliness So Poignantly Doomed That Even Self-ignorance And Restlessness Felt Like Profound States Of Being, And He Just Wandered The Empty Beaches And Misty Headlands In A State Of Serene Confusion And Awe.

I Wish There Really Was Such A Thing As A Time-clock Puncher, Though. I Wish Some Gigantic, Surly, Stone-fisted Soap Mahoney-type Guy Went Around The World Smashing Every Clock In Sight Till There Weren't Any More And People Got So Confused About When To Go To The Mill Or School Or Church That They Gave Up And Did Something Interesting Instead.

But Churches Always Have Been The Leading Cause Of The Need For Churches.

We Hear Nothing So Clearly As What Comes Out Of Silence.