Everything In Its Place
by John Estes

But it’s like that old cliché, about playing tennis without a net, he thought. Life in a rich free country gives one few opportunities for greatness, and—so maddeningly obvious—only achieving greatness counts, not just the feeling or desire for it. Too often he’s wanted credit for his aspirations, recognition for potential, as a way of evading accomplishment. It’s simply not enough to merely love the right things. >>

The Man in the Cave
by G.K. Chesterton

They were drawings or paintings of animals; and they were drawn or painted not only by a man but by an artist. Under whatever archaic limitations, they showed that love of the long sweeping or the long wavering line . . . the experimental and adventurous spirit of the artist, the spirit that does not avoid but attempts difficult things. >>

The Transfiguration

The Transfiguration
by Preston Thomas

Again he found himself in a windowless room. This time somewhere deep inside the Embassy. John Simensky entered accompanied by a security-looking person. “Mr., or, ‘Dr.’ Anderson. Not only do the Paris police see discrepancies in your story, we can’t find that any of it is true.” Simensky’s tone was laced with let’s cut the bull here. “There are so many gaps between your story and what we can confirm that it is hard to know where to begin. But let’s start here …” >>