My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Endings and Beginnings
When in the earliest days people thought this world's end was at hand they welcomed the prospect, seeing it as the beginning of God's making a new and better world. Now, the end is something with which we threaten each other, and if it should end through our anger and bombs it could only be an ending. Nothing could follow.
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