The hours
A religion, in the true meaning of the word, is what the hours of the day are spent on, and toward what purpose. The workweek is already one. The morning is sold before you have fed, housed, and raised your own life. The evening is what the workweek did not use. If a faith lives only in that scrap, it is a hobby set beside the real altar.
Thriving
A lifeform is an attempt to survive. Thriving is the attempt succeeding in the hours: you become more able to eat, to hold a roof, and to raise, and what you do feeds that. First the person. Then a household can. Then a people can. There is no other order. The people do not thrive first so that you may thrive later.
The day
Four watches. Morning, from six until noon, one foundation, while you are still the most competent self of the day. Midday, until six, the hunt in the living world. Evening, until midnight, home: the day laid down at the door, a person received as belonging. Night, the stop, so tomorrow can begin with strength. A bell moved to a convenient time is the timetable of the job.
The page
Before sleep, four lines and no fifth: morning, midday, evening, night. In the morning, before the phone, you meet what you wrote. An empty line is that stretch handed back. The thirteen come after, one at a time, on the day the foundation is kept. Agreement with a book is not the act. The morning is the book.
What a government is for
A government has one work: to facilitate that thriving, and to protect it. An hour taken that does not come home as a life more able to continue is not a contribution. You contribute when you thrive, and when a household thrives with you, and when a people thrives with you.