insofar as i make use of literary techniques, i merely adorn her gown, and find your representation of her many blemishes. but the truth is invariant of the particular account; the same underlying truth wears them all: sin there indeed is, and everywhere. but i submit that it is in the alleged witnesses. perhaps even in the judge. from sin, no man is excluded, not matter his office. we are, as mortal men, all sinners, as we know, of course. of a fallen nature, we are at least guilty, if of nothing else: hence the need for courts. though the ideal judge aspires towards the standards of heaven, he can only uphold them so well. i thus submit that your readiness to believe certain accounts might well be due to you being inclined to believe them, which is why you do not fully question the nature of the evidence. you question its contents, but not the nature of such evidence: what sort of things does this sort of evidence prove even if correct? all we heard is: "someone says so". are men's and women's tongues not ever given to lies and fabulation? even if they swear on everything that is holy that they do not. perhaps the accusers' condition was such that they would falsely allege what they observed. where did they observe it? within their souls. the wickedness lies there: in the soul of the accuser as much as of that of the accused. perhaps the accusers simply had a trick of the mind played on them, or they thought of women as evil. a sort of refutation of ancapism, to somewhat object to andrew ryan's vision: an extreme example of a frustrated husband retreating to his garage and building a toy-world. where is ryan's wife? i'm just saying.
Hungary