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A lover of the liberal arts, especially antiquity in its diverse forms, I am nonetheless wholly devoted to, utterly transformed by divine revelation. I seek to know the thought of the past, articulate my deepest longings aroused by the wise, and understand the uneasy relationship between reason and revelation; all for the sake of proper action and contemplation, both now and in the future.


That Broken Thing

No wonder my generation thinks marriage is broken. No wonder we look at it and reject it out of court. The love of self has completely poisoned marriage and "till death do us part" now mean "until the feelings go away". When the man and woman (or even just one of them) seeks their own apparent good regardless of the other, the marriage is damned.

All I can see when I look at my parents' marriage is misery and pain. My mother thinks my father makes no effort to understand  her, and my father feels she hates everything he does; that he cannot make her happy. Were they wealthy, I have little doubt my mother would leave him.

How does it come to this? How, after more than thirty years, is it reduced to childish screeching and shouting? Why must it be this way? What went wrong?

Can it be made right?

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