What does liberty really mean? This month, we Americans celebrated the 245th anniversary of our formal separation from Great Britain. As we approach the quarter-millennium
Wrath — an old-fashioned word, today almost used only in reference to God’s anger and in “Battle Hymn of the Republic”, from which novelist John
Sloth — for some of us, it’s a tree-dwelling mammal, especially the dimwitted but loveable Sid from Twentieth Century Fox’s Ice Age franchise. For others,
Avarice, one of the seven capital (“deadly”) sins, is more difficult to discern in our society than are Gluttony and Lust — at least, it’s
I have trust issues. It’s precisely this fact about me which limits my public self-revelation, and which more than anything else explains why I’m still
