I often think of Dostoevsky’s Satan with envy. As he boasted, nothing human was alien to him. For such a grand achievement, I am way too naïve. Nay, chimpanzee.

Addendum (March 16, 2012)

What is all this about? I happened to see over the shoulder of a man sitting next to me in a Zagreb café that a retired Catholic priest someplace in the Croatian boondocks was recently exposed to the public eye after untold years of touching little boys entrusted to his tender care. Touching is the word, too. The newspaper picture of the priest reminded me of an old toad. Not a pretty sight, to be sure. Anyhow, touching little boys is entirely beyond my comprehension. Why would a man ever wish to touch little boys, let alone succumb to such wishes? Or little girls, for that matter. The priest in question, as well as thousands upon thousands of his pious brethren, must have benefitted from a much better appreciation of the Satan than I can ever hope to achieve. After all, that should be an important part of their sacred service to the Catholic church.