Burke And Wills Quotes

Bravery is a willing decision to do what must be done. Fear is a cancer that is cured only by doing what must be done, backed by an intelligent, open mind.

Camouflage doesn't help when the other guy is willing to defoliate the whole jungle.

The real social contract, (Edmund Burke) argued, was not Rousseau's social contract between the noble savage and the General Will, but a "partnership" between the present generation and future generations.

I think trust is an important part of any relationship. but I also think it's something that can be rebuilt if you're willing to work at it.

If I were a girl, I’d be sucking every cock I could get my mouth on,” Will said. “Fuck, I’d take on the whole football team at one time.” Burke ran his hand through Will’s hair. “Careful,” he said. “You don’t want to get a reputation as a bad girl. No one will marry you, then.

Christian submitted to the roll of his eyes, the churn of his stomach, the break in his knees. He willingly fell out of consciousness, surrendering his heart to the blackness. She was gone. He was gone. Life on earth didn't matter anymore.

Never give someone more than you’re willing to lose,

It is better to cherish virtue and humanity, by leaving much to free will, even with some loss to the object, than to attempt to make men mere machines and instruments of a political benevolence. The world on the whole will gain by a liberty, without which virtue cannot exist.

The Man of Power is one who presides— By persuasion. He uses no demeaning words or behavior, does not manipulate others, appeals to the best in everyone, and respects the dignity and agency of all humankind—men, women, boys, and girls. By long-suffering. He waits when necessary and listens to the humblest or youngest person. He is tolerant of the ideas of others and avoids quick judgments and anger. By gentleness. He uses a smile more often than a frown. He is not gruff or loud or frightening; he does not discipline in anger. By meekness. He is not puffed up, does not dominate conversations, and is willing to conform his will to the will of God. By love unfeigned. He does not pretend. He is sincere, giving honest love without reservation even when others are unlovable. By kindness. He practices courtesy and thoughtfulness in little things as well as in the more obvious things. By pure knowledge. He avoids half-truths and seeks to be empathetic. Without hypocrisy. He practices the principles he teaches. He knows he is not always right and is willing to admit his mistakes and say ‘I’m sorry.' Without guile. He is not sly or crafty in his dealings with others, but is honest and authentic when describing his feelings.

Members of the 1860 Burke and Wills expedition to cross Australia fell prey to scurvy or starved in part because they refused to eat what the indigenous Australians ate. Bugong-moth abdomen and witchetty grub may sound revolting, but they have as much scurvy-battling vitamin C as the same size serving of cooked spinach, with the additional benefits of potassium, calcium, and zinc.

Mollie pivoted on her seat and glared at him. "Jackson Burke, do not pull that shit with me. You're thirty-five years old. I'm willing to bet that every man in this bar wants to be you, and every woman wants to—" He lifted his eyebrows, and Mollie hesitated only slightly before she forced herself to finish the sentence. "Mate." Jackson burst out laughing. "You still do that?" "Do what?" "Talk about animal mating rituals when you get nervous." "I'm not nervous! Why would I be nervous?" He was studying her. "You tell me." "Don't be weird," she muttered.

I could see millions of people left behind. Frantic, I turned back to God for an answer. “It’s free will, Erica.” “Free will?” I asked. “With the gift of life, I give you free will.” “But why can’t You save them? Don’t You love them too?” “I love all of My children,” God said. “But I can’t make them love Me back.”[8]

Ask yourself these simple questions:          How did I get where I am?          How can I achieve my goal?          What do I need to do differently?          What am I willing to do in order to achieve my goal?          What do I need to change about my current situation?          What adjustments do I need to make in my current plan?

We are so little affected by things which are habitual, that we consider this idea of the decision of a majority as if it were a law of our original nature: but such constructive whole, residing in a part only, is one of the most violent fictions of positive law, that ever has been or can be made on the principles of artificial incorporation. Out of civil society nature knows nothing of it; nor are men, even when arranged according to civil order, otherwise than by very long training, brought at all to submit to it. . . . This mode of decision, where wills may be so nearly equal, where, according to circumstances, the smaller number may be the stronger force, and where apparent reason may be all upon one side, and on the other little else than impetuous appetite; all this must be the result of a very particular and special convention, confirmed afterwards by long habits of obedience, by a sort of discipline in society, and by a strong hand, vested with stationary, permanent power, to enforce this sort of constructive general will.

Love that is not free to choose is not love at all. For God to create an eternally loving family, God chose to create creatures who can choose freely to reject him and thwart his love. His good gifts, his prestige, his power can’t force our love. We must be free to choose. It’s risky business, because free-willed creatures who turn from God and thwart his love hurt each other. And when we get hurt, we often blame God and turn from the One who can heal us. Then hurting people hurt people, and evil propagates from person to person, all of us feeling justified.

Diana’s great-grandmother Frances Work, or Fanny, as she was known to her family, was an American, and perhaps that is why the Princess always felt such a great affinity for the land across the Atlantic. Fanny’s father began his career as a clerk in Ohio and ended up making millions as a financial whiz in Manhattan. A great patriot, he promised to disinherit any of his offspring who married Europeans. But Fanny, like Diana a strong-willed woman, crossed the Atlantic and married British aristocrat James Boothby Burke Roche, who became the third Baron Fermoy. When the marriage broke up, she returned to New York with twin sons and a daughter, and her indulgent father forgave her.

Under Protestantism, religion is left entirely to the control of the individual, who selects his own creed, or makes a creed to suit himself, devises his own worship and discipline and submits to no restraints but such as are self-imposed. When this stage is reached, disintegration of the religious spirit is imminent; for man is not sufficient unto himself, reason unaided cannot sustain faith, and Authority is required to preserve Christianity from degenerating into a congeries of fanatic sects and egotistical professions. Under Protestantism, the sect governs religion, rather than submitting to governance; the congregation bully their ministers and insist upon palatable sermons, flattering to their vanity; Protestantism cannot sustain popular Liberty because it is itself subject to popular control, and must follow in all things the popular will, passion, interest, prejudice, or caprice.

A definition may be very exact, and yet go but a very little way towards informing us of the nature of the thing defined; but let the virtue of a definition be what it will, in the order of things, it seems rather to follow than to precede our enquiry, of which it ought to be considered as the result. It must be acknowledged that the methods of disquisition and teaching may be sometimes different and on very good reason undoubtedly; but for my part, I am convinced that the method of teaching which approaches most nearly to the method of investigation, is incomparably the best; since not content with serving up a few barren and lifeless truths, it leads to the stock on which they grew; it tends to set the reader himself in the track of invention, and to direct him into those paths in which the author has made his own discoveries, if he should be so happy as to have made any that are valuable.

The cabin; by the stern windows; Ahab sitting alone, and gazing out. I leave a white and turbid wake; pale waters, paler cheeks, where'er I sail. The envious billows sidelong swell to whelm my track; let them; but first I pass. Yonder, by the ever-brimming goblet's rim, the warm waves blush like wine. The gold brow plumbs the blue. The diver sun— slow dived from noon—goes down; my soul mounts up! she wearies with her endless hill. Is, then, the crown too heavy that I wear? this Iron Crown of Lombardy. Yet is it bright with many a gem; I the wearer, see not its far flashings; but darkly feel that I wear that, that dazzlingly confounds. 'Tis iron—that I know—not gold. 'Tis split, too—that I feel; the jagged edge galls me so, my brain seems to beat against the solid metal; aye, steel skull, mine; the sort that needs no helmet in the most brain-battering fight! Dry heat upon my brow? Oh! time was, when as the sunrise nobly spurred me, so the sunset soothed. No more. This lovely light, it lights not me; all loveliness is anguish to me, since I can ne'er enjoy. Gifted with the high perception, I lack the low, enjoying power; damned, most subtly and most malignantly! damned in the midst of Paradise! Good night—good night! (waving his hand, he moves from the window.) 'Twas not so hard a task. I thought to find one stubborn, at the least; but my one cogged circle fits into all their various wheels, and they revolve. Or, if you will, like so many ant-hills of powder, they all stand before me; and I their match. Oh, hard! that to fire others, the match itself must needs be wasting! What I've dared, I've willed; and what I've willed, I'll do! They think me mad— Starbuck does; but I'm demoniac, I am madness maddened! That wild madness that's only calm to comprehend itself! The prophecy was that I should be dismembered; and—Aye! I lost this leg. I now prophesy that I will dismember my dismemberer. Now, then, be the prophet and the fulfiller one. That's more than ye, ye great gods, ever were. I laugh and hoot at ye, ye cricket-players, ye pugilists, ye deaf Burkes and blinded Bendigoes! I will not say as schoolboys do to bullies—Take some one of your own size; don't pommel me! No, ye've knocked me down, and I am up again; but ye have run and hidden. Come forth from behind your cotton bags! I have no long gun to reach ye. Come, Ahab's compliments to ye; come and see if ye can swerve me. Swerve me? ye cannot swerve me, else ye swerve yourselves! man has ye there. Swerve me? The path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run. Over unsounded gorges, through the rifled hearts of mountains, under torrents' beds, unerringly I rush! Naught's an obstacle, naught's an angle to the iron way! CHAPTER

Seriously? You told him that?” Sophie bit her lip. “He sort of…pried it out of me. And then he wanted to go after Burke. I made him promise to stay away—well, not to kill him, but Sylvan went after him anyway.” “Really?” Olivia stared at her. “You mean he tracked down Burke after all these years and beat him up? That doesn’t sound like Sylvan to me.” “It’s not like him. At least, not as far as I can tell.” Sophie sighed unhappily. “I saw everything he did—he didn’t just beat Burke up—he broke his arm. A bad break. I could see the…the bones coming out of his skin all jagged and bloody…” The memory made her sick to her stomach and she shook her head, unable to continue. “A compound fracture, huh?” Olivia nodded thoughtfully. “That is bad.” “But that’s not all,” Sophie went on. “He also, uh, castrated him.” “He what?” Liv and Kat said together. “He did.” Sophie nodded. “With this little silver thingy. It was really small—it fit in the palm of his hand. But it burned Burke’s, uh, equipment right off. There was nothing left but a…but a scar.” She swallowed hard, willing her stomach to be steady. Considering the fact that she hadn’t eaten in well over twenty-four hours, she felt remarkably un-hungry. “I think I know what you’re talking about,” Liv said. “It’s mostly used for dermatological cases—when somebody needs a wart burned off or something. I never thought of burning off anything, uh, bigger.” “Well I guess Burke’s out of business.” There was no mistaking the satisfaction in Kat’s tone. “Permanently from the sound of it.” Liv laughed. “Good for Sylvan! I wish I could have seen it.” “I

Continetti concludes: "An intellectual, financial, technological, and social infrastructure to undermine global capitalism has been developing for more than two decades, and we are in the middle of its latest manifestation… The occupiers’ tent cities are self-governing, communal, egalitarian, and networked. They reject everyday politics. They foster bohemianism and confrontation with the civil authorities. They are the Phalanx and New Harmony, updated for postmodern times and plopped in the middle of our cities. There may not be that many activists in the camps. They may appear silly, even grotesque. They may resist "agendas" and "policies." They may not agree on what they want or when they want it. And they may disappear as winter arrives and the liberals whose parks they are occupying lose patience with them. But the utopians and anarchists will reappear… The occupation will persist as long as individuals believe that inequalities of property are unjust and that the brotherhood of man can be established on earth." You can see why anarchists might find this sort of thing refreshingly honest. The author makes no secret of his desire to see us all in prison, but at least he’s willing to make an honest assessment of what the stakes are. Still, there is one screamingly dishonest theme that runs throughout the Weekly Standard piece: the intentional conflation of "democracy" with "everyday politics," that is, lobbying, fund-raising, working for electoral campaigns, and otherwise participating in the current American political system. The premise is that the author stands in favor of democracy, and that occupiers, in rejecting the existing system, are against it. In fact, the conservative tradition that produced and sustains journals like The Weekly Stand is profoundly antidemocratic. Its heroes, from Plato to Edmund Burke, are, almost uniformly, men who opposed democracy on principle, and its readers are still fond of statements like "America is not a democracy, it’s a republic." What’s more, the sort of arguments Continetti breaks out here--that anarchist-inspire movements are unstable, confused, threaten established orders of property, and must necessarily lead to violence--are precisely the arguments that have, for centuries. been leveled by conservatives against democracy itself. In reality, OWS is anarchist-inspired, but for precisely that reason it stands squarely in the very tradition of American popular democracy that conservatives like Continetti have always staunchly opposed. Anarchism does not mean the negation of democracy--or at least, any of the aspects of democracy that most American have historically liked. Rather, anarchism is a matter of taking those core democratic principles to their logical conclusions. The reason it’s difficult to see this is because the word "democracy" has had such an endlessly contested history: so much so that most American pundits and politicians, for instance, now use the term to refer to a form of government established with the explicit purpose of ensuring what John Adams once called "the horrors of democracy" would never come about. (p. 153-154)

It is entirely the work of grace and a benefit conferred by it that our heart is changed from a stony one to one of flesh, that our will is made new, and that we, created anew in heart and mind, at length will what we ought to will. i -John Calvin

Oxford scholar C. S. Lewis, an atheist turned believer, wrestles with the idea of hell in his book The Problem of Pain and concludes that God does not send anybody to hell: “I willingly believe that the damned are, in one sense, successful, rebels to the end; that the doors of hell are locked from the inside . . . [to] enjoy forever the horrible freedom [from God] they have demanded.

All he will ever retain from however long he spends in that other place—and it’s an eternity—will be fragments of horrors, so garish and alien it is impossible for his mind to put them together into any kind of sense or order, but they will be enough to compound the seriousness of the situation in which he has found himself.

The only lesson I’ve learned in life is that the human personality does not change, and our propensity for destroying the earth and our fellow man is stronger and more wanton than it has ever been, and if the incineration of our cities and civilians and the increased lethality of our weapons during the last one hundred years has not taught us that, nothing will. I cannot envision eternity or infinity. I cannot understand the concept of endlessness. Nor do I understand how a primeval swamp can produce life-forms

In addition to the peerless Levering Smith, Raborn held another trump card in dealing with the Pentagon—a “magic piece of paper”: a memo from the CNO, Admiral Burke, affirming that Raborn “was to have absolute top priority on anything he wants to do” and that everyone in the Navy was to be responsive to his requests. If they found that they could not be, they were to report to Burke, and he would take it upon himself to say no if he felt the denial was proper. This unprecedented talisman got Raborn whatever he needed from the Navy’s frequently rivalrous bureaus, though Burke preferred to build willing support within the Pentagon rather than compulsory (and thus potentially grudging) support. In this, his and Raborn’s personal credibility and persuasive gifts carried the day. The economics of the SLBM program were useful too.

For Black people, and other people of color, there is a level of apprehension that isn’t wrought from an uneasy feeling of undeservedness but from the knowledge that racism is the silent stalker always willing to wring joy from our lives. This level of foreboding joy is not in our heads; it’s in the evidence of our experience.

I willingly believe that the damned are, in one sense, successful, rebels to the end; that the doors of hell are locked from the inside . . . [to] enjoy forever the horrible freedom [from God] they have demanded.”18

willingly believe that the damned are, in one sense, successful, rebels to the end; that the doors of hell are locked from the inside . . . [to] enjoy forever the horrible freedom [from God] they have demanded.”18

How you think about Heaven affects everything in life—how you prioritize love, how willing you are to sacrifice for the long term, how you view suffering, what you fear or don’t fear. I’m convinced we can’t even begin—but we should try—to picture how magnificent, how spectacular, how much fun Heaven will be—how much of what we love about this life and more awaits us in eternity. As the Scripture says, “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Corinthians 2:9 NLT).

For example, in October 2012, Barclaycard asked the Ring community if the company should change its late-fee policy. The existing policy allowed members a three-day grace period before charging a late-payment penalty. Barclaycard proposed eliminating the three-day grace period and allowing one late payment per year. From its analysis, Barclaycard estimated it would generate 15 percent more late-fee revenue, which would result in higher profits for the community. Members voted overwhelmingly to adopt the policy. They were willing to punish those members who were habitually late payers to generate more profit for the community. This behavior may seem counterintuitive, but because most members paid their bills on time, they wouldn’t be adversely affected.

Sophia, I want to talk to you about something but I don’t want you to be upset.” Sylvan was speaking carefully, as though choosing his words. Uh-oh, I’m not going to like this. He’s probably going to remind me of his vow and tell me not to expect any kind of commitment once we get back to the ship. “What?” she asked as neutrally as she could. “Earlier when we were talking you said something that made me wonder.” “Wonder? Wonder about what?” “You said ‘don’t do it to me again.’” Turning his head, he gave her a look that seemed to pierce right through her. “What did you mean by that?” “I said that?” Sophie tried to laugh even though her heart was suddenly in her throat. “I don’t remember. I was upset—who knows what I said?” He frowned skeptically. “All right. You also talked about having a ‘phobia’—an aversion to having me…” He cleared his throat. “On top of you. Even after you knew I wasn’t trying to take you against your will.” Sophie felt cold. “Well I mean look at you. I’m not exactly petite but you’re so huge and muscular. I mean, I would feel like I was…was smothering. Don’t you remember I told you I’m claustrophobic?” Sylvan shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s it.” “Well then what is it? What are you trying to say?” Sophie’s heart was pounding but she tried to sound normal—a little irritated, even. It was apparent that Sylvan wasn’t buying her act. He was silent for a long moment then he spoke in a low voice. “Who was he?” “What was who? What are you talking about?” “The male who hurt you. Who was he and what did he do to you? Was he this ‘Burke’ you mentioned?” Sophie felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nobody ever hurt me. I’m fine—perfectly fine,” she protested almost frantically. Sylvan kept looking at her in that same, patient way that made her feel like screaming. “You’re lying,” he said at last. “What?” She pulled her hands away from his shoulders and clenched them at her sides. “How dare you say that?” “I notice you’re not denying it.” He didn’t sound angry, just tired. Sophie was almost shaking, she was so upset. “How can you even ask me something like that? It’s so personal. I mean, I hardly even know you.” She wished she could call the words back as soon as they left her lips. How could she claim to hardly know him after all they’d been through together that night? But if she apologized and took back her hasty, hurtful words she might have to admit…No, I won’t. I can’t. Sylvan was still looking at her quietly and a little sadly. Finally he sighed and nodded. “If I have offended, then I ask your forgiveness.” “It’s okay,” Sophie muttered, looking down at her hands. Things had been going so well. Why did he have to try and pry into her past? To dig up the old hurt she’d tried so hard to bury? Sylvan

You raped and brutalized the woman I love.” Sylvan’s hands curled into fists. “Then you threatened to come to her house and do it again if she dared to report your actions.” He took a step closer to Burke who had begun to sidle away. “I didn’t mean any of it.” Burke’s voice had gone high and thin. “I mean, I had a scholarship all lined up that I had to protect. I couldn’t let some mousy little bitch ruin my entire future—she wasn’t even that good a fuck, you know?” “No, I don’t know,” Sylvan said, his voice low and threatening. “Because unlike you, I am not a rapist—I don’t take women against their will. And from now on, you won’t either.” He pulled something out of the pocket of his black flight pants—a strange looking metal device that fit neatly into the palm of his large hand. “What the fuck is that?” Burke looked at the small device uneasily. “Some kind of gun or bomb or something?” “No,” Sylvan said simply. He bent his attention to the device which he appeared to be calibrating in some way. “Okay, I get what you’re doing here—you want to warn me off your girl. No problem, man.” Burke held up his hands again and began to back away. “Listen, I haven’t even seen her since high school. In fact, I haven’t even thought of her in years.” “She has thought often of you, though,” Sylvan said quietly. “Often enough to keep her from having another relationship since the night you raped her. Often enough to keep her from trusting another male—even one who would rather die than hurt her.” “What

What is remarkable in Burke’s first performance,” wrote his great nineteenth-century biographer John Morley, “is his discernment of the important fact that behind the intellectual disturbances in the sphere of philosophy, and the noisier agitations in the sphere of theology, there silently stalked a force that might shake the whole fabric of civil society itself.”4 A caustic and simplistic skepticism of all traditional institutions, supposedly grounded in a scientific rationality that took nothing for granted but in fact willfully ignored the true complexity of social life, seemed to Burke poorly suited for the study of society, and even dangerous when applied to it. Burke would warn of, and contend with, this force for the rest of his life.

This piece of land was our original sin, except we had found no baptismal rite to expunge it from our lives. That green-purple field of new cane was rooted in rib cage and eye socket. But what of the others whose lives had begun here and ended in other places? The ones who became prostitutes in cribs on Hopkins Street in New Iberia and Jane’s Alley in New Orleans, sliced their hands open with oyster knives, laid bare their shin bones with the cane sickle, learned the twelve-string blues on the Red Hat gang and in the camps at Angola with Leadbelly and Hogman Matthew Maxey, were virtually cooked alive in the castiron sweatboxes of Camp A, and rode Jim Crow trains North, as in a biblical exodus, to southside Chicago and the magic of 1925 Harlem, where they filled the air with the music of the South and the smell of cornbread and greens and pork chops fixed in sweet potatoes, as though they were still willing to forgive if we would only acknowledge their capacity for forgiveness. Tolstoy asked how much land did a man need. Just enough to let him feel the pull of the earth on his ankles and the claim it lays on the quick as well as the dead.

God promises to overcome evil one willing heart at a time.

Permit me then to continue our conversation, and to tell you what the freedom is that I love, and that to which I think all men entitled. This is the more necessary, because, of all the loose terms in the world, liberty is the most indefinite. It is not solitary, unconnected, individual, selfish liberty, as if every man was to regulate the whole of his conduct by his own will. The liberty I mean is social freedom. It is that state of things in which liberty is secured by the equality of restraint. A constitution of things in which the liberty of no one man, and no body of men, and no number of men, can find means to trespass on the liberty of any person, or any description of persons, in the society. This kind of liberty is, indeed, but another name for justice; ascertained by wise laws, and secured by well-constructed institutions.

Burke saw this point when he said that those who have no concern for their ancestors will, by simple application of the same rule, have none for their descendants. The decision of modern man to live in the here and now is reflected in the neglect of aging parents, whom proper sentiment once kept in positions of honor and authority. There was a time when the elder generation was cherished because it represented the past; now it is avoided and thrust out of sight for the same reason. Children are liabilities. As

Old Testament prophets foretold that God would reveal “his Arm,” his own Son, to show us what he’s like in a human form we could relate to. And this Messiah would pay our debts for us, so that all willing people could come home to God (Isaiah 53). God removed every barrier between you and himself. You don’t have to prove you can be good enough—you can’t. You can’t perfectly follow the eightfold path of Buddhism, the five pillars of Islam, the Ten Commandments, or even your own moral conscience. Ever say, “I’ll never . . . ,” but you did? We can’t be who God intended without relationship with God—so God paid the ultimate human price to forgive us and restore relationship with every willing person.

Religion is our attempt to reach God. Jesus the Messiah is God’s attempt to reach us—all of us! All he needs is a humble, willing heart saying, “I want your forgiveness and love, come lead my life.

In an era when no individual can know or do everything needed to carry out the work that serves customers, it's more important than ever for people to speak up, share information, contribute expertise, take risks, and work with each other to create lasting value. Yet, as Edmund Burke wrote more than 250 years ago, fear limits our ability for effective thought and action – even for the most talented of employees. Today's leaders must be willing to take on the job of driving fear out of the organization to create the conditions for learning, innovation, and growth.

My principles enable me to form my judgment upon men and actions in history, just as they do in common life, and are not formed out of events and characters, either present or past. History is a preceptor of prudence, not of principles. The principles of true politics are those of morality enlarged; and I neither now do, nor ever will, admit of any other.

God’s hand is beckoning us to question the ways we allow people to live in, stand in, and share their truths. And it is my prayer that we will be willing to see the testimonies of women like Dr. Blasey Ford, Tarana Burke, and Anita Hill. They are certainly clarion angels of the Divine, as holy gifts pointing us toward God’s desire that we believe women—for their names are Emmanuel, “God with us.

How do we know our unique purpose? It always starts with loving and seeking God, then following his lead to love the people closest to us, and then using the gifts and passions he’s put in us to serve humanity. You don’t need to worry about not fulfilling your purpose; if you seek God and his will, you will live it. But we can’t forget, it’s all about love.

Dark and inscrutable are the ways by which we come into the world. The instincts which give rise to this mysterious process of nature are not of our making. But out of physical causes, unknown to us, perhaps unknowable, arise moral duties, which, as we are able perfectly to comprehend, we are bound indispensably to perform. Parents may not be consenting to their moral relation; but consenting or not, they are bound to a long train of burthensome duties towards those with whom they have never made a convention of any sort. Children are not consenting to their relation, but their relation, without their actual consent, binds them to its duties; or rather it implies their consent because the presumed consent of every rational creature is in unison with the predisposed order of things. Men come in that manner into a community with the social state of their parents, endowed with all the benefits, loaded with all the duties of their situation. If the social ties and ligaments, spun out of those physical relations which are the elements of the commonwealth, in most cases begin, and always continue, independently of our will, so without any stipulation, on our part, are we bound by that relation called our country, which comprehends (as it has been well said) “all the charities of all.” Nor are we left without powerful instincts to make this duty as dear and grateful to us, as it is awful and coercive.

Who ever said we ought to love a fine woman, or even any of these beautiful animals which please us? Here to be affected, there is no need of the concurrence of our will.

me of Will’s arrest, but no one had any actual facts.” I repeated the conversation I’d had with Dee Burke. “I figured he was a weasel, but I had no idea.” “There’s more. Will set up at least two sets of books.” “That’s not good news. Most likely

Burke's admonition--"The effect of liberty to individuals is, that they may do what they please: We ought to see what it will please them to do, before we risk congratulations"--never seems to have occurred to Hayek. The Arnoldian ideal of the disinterested intellectual willing to criticize one side and then the other in order to create balance and counteract the one-sidedness that led toward fanaticism: That, too, was as alien to Hayek as it had been to Marcuse. If it was partisanship that led Hayek to push forward intellectually to new insights, it was also partisanship that kept him from a balanced and rounded philosophy. Perhaps a familiarity with "the best that has been thought and said" about the market will aid us in obtaining a more disinterested and informed perspective. Such a perspective might well begin with Hayek's insights. But it would by no means end with them. p. 387

I hope you become convinced that your Creator has crazy love for you. But he won't force himself on you; he gave you a free will. He lets us decide if we will seek to know him and love him back, as you will see.