Decisions are beautiful. They are the evidence of thought and care. Decisions are the polishing cloths of life.
The Christ of Theology is not alive for us today. He is wrapped in the grave cloths of dogma.
Thanksgiving is for real Americans not Indians. We founded this Christian nation. Why if it wasn’t for the God-fearing pilgrims, the natives would still be running around in loin cloths shooting at things with their arrows.
The world and all its wisdom is but a booby, blundering school-boy that needs management and could be managed, if men and women would be human beings instead of just business men, or plumbers, or army officers, or commuters, or educators, or authors, or clubwomen, or traveling salesmen, or Socialists, or Republicans, or Salvation Army leaders, or wearers of cloths.