Scrap from an Old Notebook

My students, some of them anyway, must see sin as a big green monster whose talons and speed knock them windless into the dirt.

This would be much the same way I saw him as a child.

But it soon grew on me that sin was actually a look over a ridge, beyond which is a cliff, beyond which is the open sea, or rather, that tempting is the walking toward, and the sin is the sea.