or, William Lane Craig Plays with Himself and Calls the Result a Child.
Thank you, Charles Schulz.
We become their oppressors in the very act of freeing those unfit for freedom.
I remember this every time I see someone wearing a crucifix, or a yarmulke, or a niqab.
We can only free those who are fit for freedom.
We can only help the unfit through dialogue.
It gets into one’s blood, this long lonely way of writing, like a long sea-voyage.
This image takes me back to the dreams of my childhood. It captures the spirit of the dream-worlds that infected me with a longing for strange places. My life as a writer of the speculative was born of a desire to find these wonders I glimpsed back then. Spend a few minutes meditating on this image and see what worlds you remember from your own youth.
Idiocy isn’t necessarily terminal. A methodoglical diagnosis and a prescription for treatment.
We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.
Poorer I am, poorer all who knew him, but most of all, poorer the future for the lack of his presence and his grace.
I miss you, my dear friend.
Harry realizes he’s a new dad while trying to get to Œrth. Finding that out isn’t nearly as traumatic as the realization that this child is the tool of an enemy bent on bringing back the Shining Empire.
The Earth Woman looks for her own back way into Azhure’en while Harry, stricken with revelation, tries to get to Humanity’s Cradle: The mythical Planet Œrth.
Abram and the White Elect sneak into Azhure’en through a world so odd that neither of them really believes it is a natural one. Their presence does not go undetected.
Another inspiring look out there.
Verbum sapienti: Quo plus habent, Eo plus cupiunt.
Post nubila, Phoebus.
Think carefully before you open your mouth around me. If it’s going to be negative, shut the fuck up. You will regret ignoring this friendly warning, believe me.
Why can’t you atheists just leave religion alone?