I can see them still floating, floating down the stream, out and away from the sight of men.

Does this make me a Baptist, I wonder?
I fear not, I fear not; because I am unable to rid myself of the impression that there are many roads leading to heaven, and I have never believed in what is called close communion.

I have not hated and am unable to hate any man because either in political or in religious opinion he differs from me and insists upon voting his party ticket and worshiping his Creator according to his conscience.

Perfect freedom of conscience and thought has been my lifelong contention.
I suppose I must have been born an insurrecto.

Pursuing the story of the dark ages when men were burnt at the stake for the heresy of refusing to bow to the will of the majority, it is not the voice of the Protestant or the Catholic that issues from the flames and reaches my heart, but the cry of suffering man, my brother.