S Afrose (Sabiha Afrose) from Bangladesh. She is a lover of poetry. Her journey started in August 2020. Gradually it’s turned into her passion. She has achieved many awards as tokens of love.

She has published so many poetry books, all available on Amazon Worldwide and other sites. Her YouTube channel is S Afrose *Muse of Writes* and her Facebook page is Muse of Words by S Afrose.

Her email is sabihapoetryparadise24@gmail.com, sabiha_pharma@yahoo.com

1. Please share your thoughts about the future of literature

The universe is vulnerable. We can’t get the right way. We feel hopeless once. But that’s not the option to move on. Then???

Look at there, the field of literary world. It’s amazing and beautiful. Anyone can get the soothing ray and the expressed way of the hidden mind. There are so many unspoken words. We can easily share this with the aesthetic aroma of the literary world. Don’t believe????

Let’s make a clear picture.  War and war! It’s making the vulnerable and devastated platform overall. What can anyone see or say???
Nothing is in general.

That’s not. We need to aware the people around the world. People only want peace. No more violent arts.

Pls! Stop this war.
Message spreads as the flying saucers. People can know the genuine thoughts at a time. That’s how, the Literature helps.
So, we have to reserve this amazing and magical method after all.

Literature world will be the good messenger to hold all things, without any sort of restrictions; with its artistic essence around the universe.

WHEN DID YOU START WRITING?
***************************

During the time of COVID-19, the total environmental state of the universe was distracted and too much pressurized. The vulnerable time acted as a fume for my journey in the Literature World. I started my work slowly on the online platform. But my love for the literary field was from my childhood.
I love to read poetry and short stories books
Specially science-fiction and detective series.

2 .The Good and the Bad.

Good and Bad- those exist as the dearest peers who fight with each other.

Good: Always shows love. Offers hand of friendship to all.
Spreads the message of heart with love and respect.

Bad: Always comes with a devil’s mirth. Enjoys destroying every beautiful part of the earth. The world should be the hell, without the essence of love and respect.

Oh no!
How pathetic!

Ridiculous this time. The global warming is upright. The ecosystem is falling down.
Early morning losing its beauty. So sad!
Universe is vulnerable with rising power of the global greed.
That’s why, only fighting with power, War, killing people, destroy environment beauty,  technology rampant,,,overall, losing the beautiful paradise by the human greed always.

Good cries and sleeping into a desert.

Bad smiles and enjoying its era with the Demoniors’ mart.

WHO IS WINNING IN NOW-A-DAYS
***********************************
Though Bad is overlapping Good, using its penetrated news around the world,  by global platform; we can’t escape from this situation. We have to ensure that still good is enough for resurrection the bad tempered souls all over.

The literary world has a wonderful power. It can show the possibility and positivity. It showers the petals of sophisticated and dreamy life.
Living beings, all are here.
People we are, have to declare for the good environment to live happily.
We want peace. Don’t spread negative newsfeed. Use your power wisely.
Your power, wisdom, enough to restore the lost rhythms of the earth. Hold the tears and spread and angelic fire.

Definitely good will survive and will hold all under the humanity umbrella,  beneath azure’s hub.

I feel like that. So, I have to use my thoughts of mind, on the pages of the literary world. The power is inevitable.

3. How many books have you written
And where can we find your books?

I have written many books both on Bangla and English, but mostly English poetry books. But there’s a short story book also.
Most of the Bangla books were published in Bangladesh 
There are 35+ published poetry books. All are available on Amazon Worldwide and also other sites as usual.

For example- Woman, The Bride,  Friendship,  A new beginning, Lion’ Roar, Lost Lotus,  Who I Am? Blood Sucker, VIBRANT THOUGHTS, A CUP OF TEA etc.

There’s my YouTube Channel: can access for the quick look at a time- S Afrose *Muse of Writes *, also Facebook page- Muse of Words by S Afrose

Recently, I am working as a part of editorial team. And my successful projects are- VIBRANT THOUGHTS,  A CUP OF TEA, HAPPY NEW YEAR etc.

4. The book. e-book or physical book-
What will be the future?

So many of us, are too busy attending to the prime artifacts of daily life, that’s why e-books are going to be a good way to help people access books and also a part of their rest.

But, paperbacks are always a better option to carry as a gift, and also the best friend for passing some good moments. It also acts as a reflection of the sweet memories. A souvenir for the family members.
Nothing can beat the essence of reading a book, holding it in the hands; turning pages one by one, marking some words as the dearest arts. The precious gem for refreshing the mind overall.

Just imagine,  on the easy chairs or midst the garden in beautiful weather, holding a cup of coffee with the dearest canvas of the words…just wow! This can’t be replaced by an e-book anyway.

5. A wish for 2025
The world is too dangerous for all the vulnerable living beings. The bombastic shimmers can’t be accepted anyway.
* No War* * No Blood*

We all want to live on a peaceful planet.
There should be love within all. Must be the bridge of friendship, wearing the crown of humanity. UNIVERSAL  PEACE – this message is the prime gist now-a-days.

If want to say something, holding the hands of literature; then I have to say that, this Literature World has such a power to spread the message of heart and mind, around the world.

Positive emissions can see. Let’s say and spread- Unspoken words with the power of ink. The universe has to understand and love this passage heartfully. Through starlights of literature,  we can make a friendly world.

A PHRASE FROM YOUR BOOK:
There’s a poetry book of mine: *No War*
I want to say some lines from this one.

“Stop grudges to protect earth for living happily & peacefully “

‘ Have a look
At each nook
When one door is closed,
Anyway will try,
Another will be here,
Hope to see the smile ‘

A poem from the book

THE FLYING BULLET

Love to hear
The lullaby
Of dear parents.

Love?
Can’t hear that song,
This time.

The flying bullet.
Believe or not,
This is not applicable for the minds.

The flying bullet
Now killing
All the people.

No!
We don’t want to see
This nasty game of the bullet.

A BOOK YOU LIKE

I love all of my books. All are my lovely creations. My best friends.  My Reflection of the Mind. So I can’t say anyone specifically. But if want to say now, then will love to share my beautiful soothing charm- A CUP OF TEA .

My dear best friends on this Literature realm have reflected their thoughts, using the magical power of quill. Love for all.
Love the Literature World. Love my dear poetry paradise.

Thank you so much!

EVA Petropoulou Lianou
Author and poet from Greece

Walking Without You

When you passed, thoughts of you only occupied my mind.

I held my pillow at night tightly, and during the day,

I busied myself tirelessly to keep from falling apart.

People say you feel like your heart is going to break.

Mine broke into such small pieces that I wondered 

if it would ever be put together again.

I would look up at the sky at night sadly.  

The stars used to make my wishes come true, 

and the moon used to make me feel hopeful.  

But then, they brought only memories of us.

The sun, I hoped, would warm me, 

also turned away, leaving me cold inside.

I thought I would shrivel and die with you.

You could not run to me as I held out my arms. 

Only in my dreams could I find you.

In my sleep, you wiped away my tears.

The presence of your spirit still wraps around me

when I miss you most.  

Years later, I now think of you without such sadness

and bask in beautiful memories of us together instead…

Even though I am walking without you.

__________

Love is Perfect

You need never give up your life

nor give up all wins or costs for me

For no monetary value can be placed on love

And in the end, riches will mean nothing… 

Only love will remain and never die

because my destiny you are 

What God puts together can not be shaken

For it is through him that all good things come

In this life, things are given and taken away

And even a heathen can change his life

For love is perfect, and our prayers were answered

on the day we met, and will certainly remain far beyond death.

_________________________

Kristy Ann Raines was born Kristy Ann Rasmussen in Oakland California, in the United States of America.  

She is an accomplished international poet and writer.  Kristy has two self-published books on Amazon titled, “The Passion within Me”, and  an anthology of epistolary poems, written with a prominent poet from India, Dr. Prasana Kumar Dalai, titled, “I Cross My Heart from East to West”.

She has one children’s short story book coming out soon, titled “Tishya the Dragon”, and a few other children’s stories to follow. 

Kristy is also working on finishing two very special fantasy books that have been in the works for quite a few years, titled “Rings, Things and Butterfly Wings” and “Princess and the Lion”. 

She is also writing her autobiography titled “My Very Anomalous Life”.  

It is her life story that few know about, and the many transformations she went through.  She reveals every interesting and sometimes tragic aspect of her life. She shares her failures, victories, tears, joys, losses, heartbreaks, and how she changed, by the grace of God. 

A loving family and how two wonderful children stood by her through her transformation to who she is today.

Kristy has received numerous awards for her distinctive writing style and her work as an advocate and humanitarian around the world.

Kristy also enjoys painting, making pottery, writing song lyrics, and being with her family.  

She is married, has an older brother and sister, two wonderful children, and is a proud grandmother of three beautiful granddaughters. with one great-grandchild on the way! 

ALL-PURPOSE FACILITY

You were a noted venue
and I would often rent you
for some special attraction.

Equipped to meet any need,
enhance any intention,
sometimes you’d be my circus,
or you’d flaunt a convention.

But my business wore you out.
Now you’re vacant and condemned.


DEPOSITION

Thinking’s rearranging information
will displace
thin kings rear-ranging in formation



THE DAY I FRUIT BASKETED

In morning I wore a peach.
The sun oranged me at the beach.
Evening brought me raspberried.
How fruitful! How varied!


REPORTING FOR DUTY

Like the Snowy Egret, 
at any given second--
always you will entrance.

To your brushy entrance
I am ordered to second.
I obey. I regret.


DEAR DEPARTURE

Reason, in fact, is irrelevant --
Treason does occur, despite intent.

Butterfly, goodbye -- your flitting's lost its power.
Sigh and sigh, flatter, flirt. Flutter your eyes by the hour.
Fear of your favor's loss finally dissipated,
"Dear," and I learn how grossly lonely is overrated.

...

Dear Mom,

Are you still 66?  I’m 60 now.  I’ve done the best I could since your death.  

Do you remember when you told your friend that “only Leslie is unsettled”?  I was 30 then, the night before you died. That’s when you said it, at the theater; I overheard you.  I know you meant that you wanted me to marry and have a family.  Later I broke up with Dany.  I married Val, the one you thought had a nice voice, from Iran.  You had a conversation with him once in the living room while I was in the kitchen.  You told him that you had a relative from Iran, and I walked in when you said that, surprised.  

Dad was very lonely without you.  I thought he would never let me go. He convinced Val to move in when we got engaged.  And after the wedding, he made it nice for Val to stay. Too nice! We finally moved to 53^rd and 8^th Avenue, all the way up on the 20^th floor. I wish you could have seen it.  I was close to Central Park and Lincoln Center and Coliseum Books and Lechters.  

Debi and I used all your tickets to the opera.  We didn’t like it at first, but we’d make a day of it: lunch with Susie, Martha, and Anna Burak, and sometimes Tower Records afterwards to get the CD of the opera we’d just seen.  I wore your fur-lined coat and mostly took naps in your seat.  Then, one night Placido Domingo sang Nessun Dorma, and I cried so much, but I was really crying for you.   I feel, when I am at the opera house, that you are near me.  It is almost unbearable.  

Beatrice dated Dad for a few months. She wore your clothes, used your Dooney and Bourke wallet, like she wanted to be you.  She even offered to brush my hair and I let her. They broke up, and a few years later her cancer returned and she passed away.

Aaron was born in the same hospital where you had me, and – can you believe it? – my OB was trained by Dr. Landsman.  When I went into labor, I had to fill out forms at the hospital, and where it asked for the mother’s name, instead of writing my name, I wrote yours.  

Aaron looked just like you when he was born, and I gave him the middle name Yves in your honor. I was out-of-my-mind in love with him.  In all the blissful moments of his babyhood, I felt like you were a part of me, delighting in him.  

Oliver is your last grandchild. Again I was in love.  We moved to the Parker Towers, a rental across the street from Debi’s building in Queens.  It reminded me of our old Kew Gardens apartment.  It was the same set-up: two-bedroom, two-bath, eat-in kitchen, balcony, a friendly doorman, the same whoosh of air when you closed the front door. I had a view of the World Trade Center, your favorite place to take out-of-towners.

Val and I split up soon after Oliver was born. Everything about being with Val became too difficult. Also, we didn’t have any help, and I had to do everything you did for me and work in an office as well. He moved out, and I was a single mother until Oliver’s fourth birthday.  

Those were difficult years, with little money and a lot of loneliness.  Debi was my constant companion, like a mother to me and also my best friend.  Dorian was kind, leaving me cash in my junk drawer and paying for my airfare to visit him.  He called me all day long.  Once when I was in California visiting him, his cellphone rang and everyone looked around wondering who it could be because I was right there.

Dad married Anna Greenberg’s cousin Nina. After that, we were no longer welcome at his house unless we were expressly invited.  If we were invited, I couldn’t even get a glass of water without asking. Once, when my boys were with Val for the weekend, I called Dad to see if he wanted my company.  “Another time,” he said.  He didn’t know that I was parked outside.  Then I saw Anna’s son pull up with his family.   He had Chinese food.  He walked in as if the house were his.  

After we divorced, Val and I fell in love again.  He moved back to the Queens apartment, and Debi and Dad didn’t speak to me anymore.  I was disowned.  Birthdays and Jewish holidays were particularly painful. I once saw from my kitchen window Dad entering Debi’s building with flowers for Passover.  When I turned 40, Val told me I had a call, and I ran to the phone while asking him if it was my father.  The look on his face was pure pity, so I knew it wasn’t.  Dorian was my champion, tried to mediate, and took my side as my protector.  He always picked up the phone when I called him. It took three years before I convinced Dad to let me back into his life.  Debi followed soon after.  

Val and I bought a house together in Westchester.  We remarried in the living room, our sons our only witnesses.

Aaron is grown now.  He lives with his girlfriend in Washington Heights, and they talk of getting married.  Oliver is 24 and home with us.  He graduated from Queens College, like you and me.

I have a dog, Rhoda, whom I love more than anything in the world.  

At the end of Dad’s life, he was sick for a month in the hospital.  Every day the nurse asked him for his birthday, and he would proudly pronounce “3/25/25,” but on his actual birthday he couldn’t remember.  In his delirium he called for you. “Ou est Yvette?”  He is buried next to you in Mount Hebron.  Soon it will be his 100^th birthday.

We sold the house after Dad died.  That was hard.  Debi and I packed 40 years of memories with nowhere to put them.  I still regret throwing out the shearling jacket you bought me in Italy and Dad’s certificate from the New York Institute of Technology.  

Sometimes I wonder what you would make of the world I live in now:

Manicures and pedicures can cost $85 with tip.

Donald Trump is President.

The Twin Towers are no longer standing.  

It is fashionable to live in Brooklyn.

There are no more phone booths and fewer and fewer parking meters.

Coins are insignificant.

Loehman’s and Lord & Taylor don’t exist, but Saks does.

No one dresses up or wears pantyhose. You would think they leave the house in their pajamas.

People hardly go to the movies.  Miraculously, the Paris Theater is there. That’s where we saw Crossing Delancey, or maybe it was Cousin Cousine.  The Ziegfeld, too.  We saw Star Wars there with Dad on a hot summer night.

I get my hair colored by Javier, your colorist. I sought him out because I always loved your hair color.

I still go to Carmel on 108^th Street to get lebne and pita and kashkaval cheese and sambousek.

All your friends are gone except for Vally.  Do you remember when Val and I met you and Vally at the theater to see Three Tall Women, and we thought it was so funny that they had such similar names. She looks the same, by the way.

May died of cancer; all your sisters, too. They died after you, even though you were the baby.

Debi lost Stanley, and he is also buried in Mount Hebron.  

Dorian will be 75 next month.  He is still in Walnut Creek, although in a different house.  He and Claudia had twins.

Debi is 70 and is in the same apartment.  Alix Austin lives with her.  Remember how she broke his heart when they were teenagers?

You have a great-grandson, Benjamin.  He is three and looks like Chloe, and a little bit like Debi.

Dany never married.  

I write a lot about you.  It is like having you with me, especially how you laugh or the sound of your gold bangles.  How you got mad at me for imitating your accent when I said, “When you are right, you are right.”  How you couldn’t stop yourself from eating cheese and drinking the whole container of kefir.

I can cook almost all of your food, like gratin and mejadra, but not the rice pilaf.  

I live in New Rochelle.  I remember you used to go shopping there for clothing, and I thought it sounded so fancy. My house is shelved with all your precious books, and on the walls is the artwork you collected. I framed your library card with your signature, and I have it on my desk.

Laurie Anderson is still performing.

Spalding Gray died by suicide.

Pavarotti died, too.  I had a chance to see him on stage at the Met.

Woody Allen continues to make movies, and he married Soon Yi.

I went to a dinner and Salman Rushdie was there. He wore a patch over one eye because he had been stabbed.

I won a prize for my writing.  That was one of the times I missed you the most.

I also missed you when I got married and then when I got divorced.  I missed you when I had Aaron and then Oliver.  I missed that they didn’t know you. I missed you when I got fired from the bank because I couldn’t do it all, at least not well.  

I miss you when I read a really great book and I can’t share it with you.  Do you remember how we read all of Paul Auster’s books, one after the other?  He is gone too.  

I used to be afraid that I would forget your voice, but I now know I never will.

Love,

Lellybelle

Leslie Lisbona was featured in the Style section of The New York Times in March 2024.

Aside from Synchronized Chaos, the first journal that ever accepted her work, she has been published in JMWW, Smoky Blue Literary & Arts Magazine, and Welter. Her work has been nominated for Sundress Publications’ Best of the Net 2024 contest and won the nonfiction prize at Bar Bar Magazine (2024 BarBe Award) https://bebarbar.com/2025-barbes/

She is the child of immigrants from Beirut, Lebanon, and grew up in Queens, NY. 

https://leslielisbona.substack.com/

ΤΑ ΠΑΙΔΙΑ ΟΛΗΣ  ΤΗΣ ΓΗΣ: ΔΙΚΑ ΜΑΣ ΕΙΝΑΙ ΠΑΙΔΙΑ!  της Μαρίας Κολοβού Ρουμελιώτη

Παιδιά της Ζωής: Παιδιά της Αγάπης.

Παιδιά της Ελευθερίας : Παιδιά της Ευτυχίας.

Παιδιά της Ειρήνης: Παιδιάς της  Προκοπής!

Παιδιά του Πολέμου: Παιδιά του Φόβου.

Τρέμει η ψυχή σαν καρυδότσουφλο….

Καίγεται  στη φωτιά ….

Πνιγμένο στο αίμα το φυλλοκάρδι !….

Τα παιδιά όλης της γης: Δικά μας είναι παιδιά!

Ας τα κρατήσουμε σε ασφαλή αγκαλιά!

Ω, Θεέ μου,

ακόμη δεν γέμισε ο Παράδεισος με αγγελούδια;…..

Ακόμη δεν χόρτασε η Γης;…..

Απόμεινε η Αιώνια Μυρωδιά του Θανάτου

να γυροφέρνει το λάκκο μας προτού καν γεννηθούμε….

Ακόμη δεν εισακούστηκαν οι  κραυγές  διαμαρτυρίας…

Η ανθρωπότητα θάβει τα παιδιά της.

Θάβει τη ζωή !

Θάβει το μέλλον!…

Πώς να βλαστήσει το Δέντρο της ζωής;…

Ξεράθηκαν οι κλώνοι  του μα  οι ρίζες κρατάνε ακόμη.

Ας κάνουμε  την Αγάπη και την Ειρήνη:  Φως και νερό στις ρίζες του!

THE CHILDREN OF ALL EARTH: THEY ARE OUR CHILDREN! 

Children of Life: Children of Love.

Children of Freedom: Children of Happiness.

Children of Peace: Children of  Prosperity!

Children of War: Children of Fear.

The soul trembles like a walnut…

It’s burned    in the fire…

The heart valve is drowned in blood!…

The children of all the earth: They are our children!

Let’s keep them in a safe embrace!

Oh, my God,

Isn’t Heaven filled with angels yet?…..

Isn’t the Earth fed up yet?….. 

The Eternal Smell of Death Remains

to circle our grave before we are even born… 

 The cries of protest have not yet been heard  …

Humanity buries its children.

It buries life!

It bury the future!… 

 How can the Tree of Life sprout?…

 Its branches have withered,  but   its roots still hold.

Let’s make  Love and Peace:  Light and water at its roots!

 Maria Kolovou Roumelioti 

THE PROPHETS OF IRRELEVANCE IN AN IRREVERENT AGE

Dr. Jernail S. Anand

There are so many things which turn irrelevant when they become outdated, and are, therefore, dusted out. It is very important for every young man to decide what is of relevance and what has lost it.  Prioritizing is a very professional game in the present milieu, and even where things seem to be irrelevant, we make a list of the irrelevant, the more irrelevant and the most irrelevant. The most irrelevant things are considered obsolete, and then consigned to the dustbin. Our minds too have a trash box where we place most of the things which are not required in our daily transactions. Sometimes, when we have time, we sit and delete them.

The Relevantia

What is important for this society and, therefore, relevant? For a common man, the essential issues have often been associated with  his living, his survival. When survival is assured, he starts thinking of living beautifully. Aesthetics comes in, when he has free time to think for himself. The third stage which often does not come in the case of majority of people [because the second phase draws on too long] is thinking dutifully. The second phase was the phase of self-decoration, self- enjoyment and self-improvement. In majority of cases, things stop here.

In fact, in case of millions of people, things stop with gaining a capability to make both ends meet. If they have shelter, a wife, a few kids, and work, they are satisfied. They can lead a life of eighty years without thinking a word about others. Religion plays a great role in keeping them subdued, and under fear of the gods, and it makes them do some good deeds also. If they do not think too much, it gives them a coarse  happiness too. We can think of those also, who are born in torn families now a days, who do not have a home, who do not have siblings, who do not have complete set of parents, and who do not own a home [living on rent in flats]  which means they have no permanent affiliation with any place. They belong to no village, no city, such is this age of transition and trans-movement. Those who are denied these basic certainties of life, often turn loose, and start their forays into the underworld. There is no one to check them. Parents can stop them, but parents, who are victims of this ‘surplus economy’ which denies them essential services, themselves indulge in wrongful deeds, and have no moral authority to stop their kids when they go astray.  

What is relevant for the lowest strata? Food and a poisoned mind, against those who have everything.  Those who can manage these foundational necessities, have a little bit time at their disposal, in which they try to make their living aesthetically fulfilling. Education, art, culture lend beauty and charm to people who have modest means, coupled with a hazy  understanding of what they have and what they have lost. These people are thinking beautifully, and all their efforts are centred at their self.

Thinking Dutifully

The third phase sets in  when people start thinking dutifully. If seventy percent people belong to the first category, twenty percent  to the second, then only ten percent people are those who belong to the third category, the people who think dutifully. These are the people who have transcended the limiting boundaries of knowledge, and realized their interconnection with the superior forces of creation, which are benefic to all creation including animals, birds, and rivers, winds and mountains.

Darkness

These people know what is darkness. When the light has gone, and you are running for a matchstick, it is not darkness. Darkness is the absence of light. Even when you can see, still there are things which you do not see. This is darkness. If you see injustice before your eyes, and you move forward, this is a cryptic case of darkness. We have within us vast reserves of darkness. Education, knowledge, and all training which makes us insensitive to the created universe, add to the universal darkness.

If we look closely at ourselves, we will see how many of us are living, growing and dying in darkness. Light belongs to the Buddha. Light means you know what is where. If you become aware of your priorities, if you know what is necessary and what is unnecessary, you have light. Knowledge should have this property, but alas! Knowledge, as it is the preferred domain of the Devil, does not let us pass into the domain of light. It closes our mind to impulses which  are divine in origin.

The Relevant and the Irrelevant

The milieu in which we are living is not the making of one day or of one person. Year after year, decade after decade, country after country, and leader after leader, have contributed to this collective blindness of human race to the impulses and urges which are divine. Knowledge, books, libraries and teachers are used to check all the sources of inspiration so that the reserves of natural wisdom among the students remain untapped, and ultimately go dry. Finally, we have to decide what is relevant for this milieu which has turned absolutely irreverent to the things which still have divinity around them. Here is a list of the irrelevancies which our young men can skip  without hurting their career prospects. Tick out Parents. Tick out Teachers.  Respecting parents or being obedient to them, tick it out. Knowledge is the most preferred item on the agenda. Wisdom, a dangerous proposition. Tick it off. Goodness, Honesty, Integrity – all apply brakes on your speed. Tick them out.  Remember, this world basks in the glory of power, success, wealth and fame. Good bye to all great traditions of the past which believed in humanity, human dignity, human goodness, and godliness. If you consider yourself a good man, there is fear of your son or daughter moving you in the trash box. Beware!

Dr. Jernail Singh Anand, [the Seneca, Charter of Morava, Franz Kafka and Maxim Gorky award and Signs Peace Award Laureate, with an opus of 180 books, whose name adorns the Poets’ Rock in Serbia]]  is a towering literary figure whose work embodies a rare fusion of creativity, intellect, and moral vision.