Few men capture my imagination like Thomas More, the happiest martyr of the Reformation. In More's Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation, the condemned "Anthony" speaks his author's wit:
"But whensoever God may take me hence, to reckon yourselves then comfortless, as though your chief comfort stood in me--therein would you make, methinketh, a reckoning very much as though you would cast away a strong staff and lean upon a rotten reed. For God is, and must be, your comfort, and not I."
The words of a great orator, brilliant wordsmith, and great father. May his memory be hailed hearty in all the pubs of Christendom today!
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