Pete Kauffman

Dear M., Remember when you gave me Mere Christianity when I was in the thick of the pimples and teenage angst? I was honored you thought me mature enough to want this type of material. I do not remember if it was the content of the book or the fact

Truth is an arbitrary thing, a force, a lifestyle that makes demands of us. If we fail to follow truth, we become liars. If we want not to be liars, then we must be subject to the reality of truth and become victims of its force. I was standing in

What luck for leaders that men do not think. —Adolf Hitler I. I can’t help it. I wish the box in the picture was mine. It sits on the moldering deck with a shimmering luster, lid flung open, a veritable cornucopia of archery accessories. Bow square, scissors, an old

“All goes well as long as you run with conformists. But you, who are honest men in other particulars, know that there is alive somewhere a man whose honesty reaches to this point also, that he shall not kneel to false gods, and, on the day when you meet him,

One man’s opinion of the use of devices and the devices that use us. It was a hot day in July, and the heat was shimmering off the asphalt when we drove by the steakhouse. Eight citizens stood outside, staring at their hands as though wondering what had gone

He sat across the scarred picnic table, affecting a nonchalant air about his accomplishment and taking a tacit pride in the hardship. He was coming off a double high: the euphoric high of his achievement, and the literal high of the highest mountain in Maine—the 5,267-foot Mt. Khatadin