“Adam, dear, I am ever so grateful for your rib, but let’s keep our relationship as it is. Can’t we just be friends?”

“Arise, Pendragon. Take your sword and walk the straight path.”

The fall of an epoch, or the descent of a people, is never seen in the burning, bright days of midsummer: death is autumnal. It was so many ages ago, as the days of summer were fading to the dusk of fall – on the eve of the feast day of Saint Bartholomew.

Imagine Braveheart without Horner’s bagpipe-driven score. Contemplate Chariots of Fire without Vangelis’ rhythmic theme. Going through the exercise of imagining movies without music teaches us a worthwhile lesson, for it is all too easy to forget the music playing in the background.

Between the sea and the land I watch as the milky sails are set and the anchor grindingly raised. The time for departure has come. But I am not ready.

“Once upon a time there lived a man who was alive.” New Christendom Journal’s David Henreckson shows us the poetic worldview of G.K. Chesterton.

Aristocracy - a lost cause in the face of our treasured democratic ideals? Certainly. Worth it? You decide.

Grimy hands clenched at their spears. Knotted braids were flung back so fierce eyes could gaze at the approaching treasure. Jutting chins were pointed straight ahead. Plunder was the treasure.