Philosophy: A Purple Bullfinch In A Lilac

The Young Feel Tired At The End Of An Action, The Old At The Beginning.

O Father, Father Gone From Us, Lost To Us, The Church Lies Bereft, Alone, Desecrated, Desolated. And The Heathen Shall Build On The Ruins Their World Without God. I See It. I See It.

In The End Is My Beginning.

There Is, It Seems To Us, At Best, Only A Limited Value In The Knowledge Derived From Experience.

It Is Not Necessarily Those Lands Which Are The Most Fertile Or Most Favored In Climate That Seem To Me The Happiest, But Those In Which A Long Struggle Of Adaptation Between Man And His Environment Has Brought Out The Best Qualities Of Both.