next to of course god america i / love you land of the pilgrims and so forth oh

At least the Pilgrim Fathers used to shoot Indians: the Pilgrim Children merely punch time clocks.

America makes prodigious mistakes, America has colossal faults, but one thing cannot be denied: America is always on the move. She may be going to Hell, of course, but at least she isn't standing still.

Here is little Effie's head. Her brains are made of gingerbread. When the judgement day comes, God will find six crumbs. Stooping by the coffin lid waiting for something to rise as the something's always did. Imagine His surprise, bellowing above the general noise, "Where is Effie? She was dead." Back to God in a tiny voice: "My name's Maybe." The first crumb said. The number two crumb picked up the song. "Might, I'm called. I've done no wrong." Cried the third crumb, "I am Should. Here's our little brother Could and my big sister Would. Don't punish us for we've been good." And the last crumb, with some shame, whispered unto God, "My name is Must and with the others, we've been Effie, who isn't alive and never was. Cross the threshold have no dread. Lift the sheet back in this way.

Always the beautiful answer who asks a more beautiful question.

It takes courage to grow up and turn out to be who you really are.