Whenever The Tissue Of Life Is Woven

A Man Used To Riding In A Car Cannot Understand A Pedestrian.

With Such Global Events Looming Over Us Like Mountains, Nay, Like Entire Mountain Ranges, It May Seem Incongruous And Inappropriate To Recall That The Primary Key To Our Being Or Non-being Resides In Each Individual Human Heart, In The Heart’s Preference For Specific Good Or Evil. Yet This Remains True Even Today, And It Is, In Fact, The Most Reliable Key We Have. The Social Theories That Promised So Much Have Demonstrated Their Bankruptcy, Leaving Us At A Dead End.

In Our Country They Do Not Permit Any Information To Be X-rayed Through And Through, Nor Any Discussion To Encompass All The Facets Of A Subject. All This Is Invariably Suppressed At The Very Beginning, So No Ray Of Light Should Fall On The Naked Body Of Truth. And Then All This Is Piled Up In One Formless Heap Covering Many Years, Where It Languishes For Whole Decades, Until All Interest And All Means Of Sorting Out The Rusty Blocks From All This Trash Are Lost.

Macbeth's Self-justifications Were Feeble - And His Conscience Devoured Him. Yes, Even Iago Was A Little Lamb Too. The Imagination And The Spiritual Strength Of Shakespeare's Evildoers Stopped Short At A Dozen Corpses. Because They Had No Ideology.

Even The Most Broad-minded Of Us Can Embrace Only That Part Of Truth Into Which Our Own Snout Has Blundered.