Brothers, have no fear of men’s sin. Love a man even in his sin, for that is the semblance of Divine Love and is the highest love on earth.
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Three Poems
⎺ Original Poetry from Dietrich Balsbaugh
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Dryden on the Fear of Death
Distrust, and darkness, of a future state, Make poor Mankind so fearful of their Fate. Death, in itself, is nothing; but we fear To be we know not what, we know not where.
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Melville on Faith and Death
Faith, like a jackal, feeds among the tombs, and even from these dead doubts she gathers her most vital hope.
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London on the Man Without a Past
Brissenden was always an enigma. With the face of an ascetic, he was, in all the failing blood of him, a frank voluptuary. He was unafraid to die, bitter and cynical of all the ways of living; and yet, dying, he loved life, to the last atom of it. He was possessed by a madness to live, to thrill, "to squirm my little space in the cosmic dust whence I came," as he phrased it once himself. He had tampered with drugs and done many strange things in quest of new thrills, new sensations. As he told Martin, he had once gone three days without water, had done so voluntarily,…
