Religion seems to have always offered us that false duality. . . the silences of infinite space or the cozy comfort of inner certainty.
Light was first Through the Lord's word Named day: Beauteous, bright creation!
The fiend with all his comrades Fell then from heaven above, Through as long as three nights and days, The angels form heaven into hell; And them all the Lord transformed to devils, Because they his deed and word Would not revere.
I am in charity, my children, with all the servants of God.
That is to say, epic poetry has been invented many times and independently; but, as the needs which prompted the invention have been broadly similar, so the invention itself has been.
Hey, size works against excellence.
There are other ways of finding satisfaction, recipes for human happiness, enjoyment, dignified and meaningful, gratifying life, than increased consumption that increases production.
Humanity is never so beautiful as when praying for forgiveness, or else forgiving another.