In America, Any Man Who Is Not

The Witch-hunt Was A Perverse Manifestation Of The Panic Which Set In Among All Classes When The Balance Began To Turn Toward Greater Individual Freedom. The Witch-hunt Was Not, However, A Mere Repression. It Was Also, And As Importantly, A Long Overdue Opportunity For Everyone So Inclined To Express Publicly His Guilt And Sins, Under The Cover Of Accusations Against The Victims.

The Parochial Snobbery Of These People Was Partly Responsible For Their Failure To Convert The Indians. Probably They Also Preferred To Take Land From Heathens Rather Than From Fellow Christians. At Any Rate, Very Few Indians Were Converted, And The Salem Folk Believed That The Virgin Forest Was The Devil's Last Preserve, His Home Base And The Citadel Of His Final Stand. To The Best Of Their Knowledge The American Forest Was The Last Place On Earth That Was Not Paying Homage To God.

Don't Be Seduced Into Thinking That That Which Does Not Make A Profit Is Without Value.

Down Deep In His Heart God Is A Comedian Who Loves To Make Us Laugh.

Pathos Truly Is The Mode For The Pessimist. But Tragedy Requires A Nicer Balance Between What Is Possible And What Is Impossible. And It Is Curious, Although Edifying, That The Plays We Revere, Century After Century, Are The Tragedies. In Them, And In Them Alone, Lies The Belief-optimistic, If You Will, In The Perfectibility Of Man.