There Have Been Many Times When I

Grant That The Idea Of God Is The Most Splendid Single Act Of The Creative Human Imagination, And That All His Multiple Faces And Attributes Correspond To Some Need And Satisfy Some Deep Desire In Mankind; Still, For The Inquirers, It Is Impossible Not To Conclude That This Mystical Concept Has Been Harnessed Rudely To Machinery Of The Most Mundane Sort, And Has Been Made To Serve The Ends Of An Organization Which, Ruling Under Divine Guidance, Has Ruled Very Little Better, And In Some Respects, Worse, Than Certain Rather Mediocre But Frankly Manmade Systems Of Government.

All Working, Practical Political Systems, Even Those Professing To Originate In Moral Grandeur, Are Based Upon And Operate By Contempt Of Human Life And The Individual Fate.

With The Most Infinite Tenderness I Have Ever Known In My Life, He Put His Arms Around Me, Gently, Gently, And I Embraced Him Around The Neck, And We Touched.

The Arts Do Live Continuously, And They Live Literally By Faith; Their Names And Their Shapes And Their Uses And Their Basic Meanings Survive Unchanged In All That Matters Through Times Of Interruption, Diminishment, Neglect; They Outlive Governments And Creeds And The Societies, Even The Very Civilization That Produced Them. They Cannot Be Destroyed Altogether Because They Represent The Substance Of Faith And The Only Reality. They Are What We Find Again When The Ruins Are Cleared Away.

It Is Such A Relief To Be Told The Truth.