Club Paradise Quotes

All religions are man-made; God has not yet revealed himself beyond doubt to anybody.

Each mind conceives god in its own way. There may be as many variation of the god figure as there are people in the world

There is nothing behind the curtains of religions, people put there whatever their imaginations can fathom

Atheists are the most honest of the human race. These people are unable to live a double life; they are unable to lie to themselves. Of course it's an evolutionary handicap, and if that handicap was widespread, our species would run the risk of extinction

Don't create unbelief or doubt in people's minds. When you do so you ruin their lives and you have nothing to give them in its place. It's ok if people delude themselves; those delusions keep their day running.

Once you believe that god is not a private property of anybody, you are on your way to becoming a new messiah. Maybe your own if not the world's

Sunday - the doctor's paradise! Doctors at country clubs, doctors at the seaside, doctors with mistresses, doctors with wives, doctors in church, doctors in yachts, doctors everywhere resolutely being people, not doctors.

An atheist is someone who is disappointed in his search of god. He is a man who strongly needed god but couldn't find him. Atheism is a cry of despair

Why doesn't the pope convert to Calvinism? Why doesn't the Dalai Lama, convert to Christianity, why doesn't Billy Graham convert to Islam, Why doesn't the Ayatollahs convert to Buddhism, Why isn't Buddhism swept away? Religious leaders know that all religions are equal; they know that no one of them has the monopoly to the knowledge of God. They know that each religion is trying to find the hidden God and that no one religion can claim to have found him beyond doubt. That's why they remain where they are and respect each other.

Moths and other nocturnal insects navigate by the moon and stars. Those heavenly bodies are useful for them to find their way, even though they never get far from the surface of the earth. But lightbulbs and candles send them astray; they fly into the heat or the flame and die. For these creatures, to arrive is a calamity. When activists mistake heaven for some goal at which they must arrive, rather than an idea to navigate Earth by, they burn themselves out, or they set up a totalitarian utopia in which others are burned in the flames. Don’t mistake a lightbulb for the moon, and don’t believe that the moon is useless unless we land on it. After all those millennia of poetry about the moon, nothing was more prosaic than the guys in space suits stomping around on the moon with their flags and golf clubs thirty-something years ago. The moon is profound except when we land on it. Paradise

Jorge Luis Borges: “I have always imagined that paradise will be a kind of library.” “The

In life, if you are refused membership to a club, you get a refund check for dues paid; what happens to your tithes if Jesus denies you entry to God's Paradise? Mal. 3:10.

God has not yet revealed himself to no one in no unclear terms. Religions are attempts to find him; on that level they are all equal

This is why you never let a man have access to your heart because they will eventually rip it out.

Many years later after the sell-outs, betrayals, and hatred which would tear us apart, when our brotherhood had been destroyed, I’d always look back and remember that night. That fucking wild night at the KeyClub, when the smoke stung my eyes but my world was full of nothing but blind hope. When life was not a mockery, but a very real fire which flamed through my veins like the most incredible drug... the night when Kelly-Lee Obann, drunk, high and barely 20 the time, looked out through his hair with a terrible nakedness and said to me; “We’re not gonna make it out of this alive. You know that, right?

But there is a way of despising the dandelion which is not that of the dreary pessimist, but of the more offensive optimist. It can be done in various ways; one of which is saying, "You can get much better dandelions at Selfridge's," or "You can get much cheaper dandelions at Woolworth's." Another way is to observe with a casual drawl, "Of course nobody but Gamboli in Vienna really understands dandelions," or saying that nobody would put up with the old-fashioned dandelion since the super-dandelion has been grown in the Frankfurt Palm Garden; or merely sneering at the stinginess of providing dandelions, when all the best hostesses give you an orchid for your buttonhole and a bouquet of rare exotics to take away with you. These are all methods of undervaluing the thing by comparison; for it is not familiarity but comparison that breeds contempt. And all such captious comparisons are ultimately based on the strange and staggering heresy that a human being has a right to dandelions; that in some extraordinary fashion we can demand the very pick of all the dandelions in the garden of Paradise; that we owe no thanks for them at all and need feel no wonder at them at all; and above all no wonder at being thought worthy to receive them. Instead of saying, like the old religious poet, "What is man that Thou carest for him, or the son of man that Thou regardest him?" we are to say like the discontented cabman, "What's this?" or like the bad-tempered Major in the club, "Is this a chop fit for a gentleman?" Now I not only dislike this attitude quite as much as the Swinburnian pessimistic attitude, but I think it comes to very much the same thing; to the actual loss of appetite for the chop or the dish of dandelion-tea. And the name of it is Presumption and the name of its twin brother is Despair. This is the principle I was maintaining when I seemed an optimist to Mr. Max Beerbohm; and this is the principle I am still maintaining when I should undoubtedly seem a pessimist to Mr. Gordon Selfridge. The aim of life is appreciation; there is no sense in not appreciating things; and there is no sense in having more of them if you have less appreciation of them.

She had lived in eight different countries growing up and had visited dozens of others. To most people, this sounded cool, and in some ways, Ayers knows, it was cool, or parts of it were. But since humans are inclined to want what they don't have, she longed to live in America, preferably the solid, unchanging, undramatic Midwest, and attend a real high school, the kind shown in movies, complete with a football team, cheerleaders, pep rallies, chemistry labs, summer reading lists, hall passes, proms, detentions, assemblies, fund-raisers, lockers, Spanish clubs, marching bands, and the dismissal bell.

ja niin elämässäni kaikki tuntuu tänään muuttuneen, jopa kaupunki muuttaa muotoaan ympärilläni, minä istun Paradise Placella ja katson Muistojen saliin päin ja yhtäkkiä kaikki viittaa minuun ja Cicelyyn, kaikki on metaforaa sille mitä me tunnemme, jotenkin koko kaupungista on tullut suorastaan kuin meidän elämänkokoinen sydänkäyrämme, ja minä voisin melkein kiljua siitä riemusta, haluaisin juosta aukiolle ja huutaa kaikille jotka suostuvat kuuntelemaan MINÄ RAKASTAN TÄTÄ KAUPUNKIA! MINÄ RAKASTAN TÄTÄ KAUPUNKIA! mutta niin kuin varmaan olette arvanneetkin, en aio sitä tehdä, sellainen ei aivan sovi luonteelleni

The U.S. Olympic eight-oared crew was as cool as could be, though. Every afternoon they boarded a boat and made their way out to the New York Athletic Club’s private retreat, Huckleberry Island, a mile off Travers Island, out in the cool waters of Long Island Sound. The island was twelve acres of paradise, and the boys fell in love with it the moment they stepped out of their launch and onto a beach in one of its many small granite coves, wearing the Indian headbands with turkey feathers that club members donned whenever they visited the island. They leapt off stone ledges, plunged into the cool green water of the sound, swam, horsed around, then stretched out on warm flat slabs of granite, toasting themselves brown before plunging back into the water again.

Savage. Let us explain this word. When these bristling men, who in the early days of the revolutionary chaos, tattered, howling, wild, with uplifted bludgeon, pike on high, hurled themselves upon ancient Paris in an uproar, what did they want? They wanted an end to oppression, an end to tyranny, an end to the sword, work for men, instruction for the child, social sweetness for the woman, liberty, equality, fraternity, bread for all, the idea for all, the Edenizing of the world. Progress; and that holy, sweet, and good thing, progress, they claimed in terrible wise, driven to extremities as they were, half naked, club in fist, a roar in their mouths. They were savages, yes; but the savages of civilization. They proclaimed right furiously; they were desirous, if only with fear and trembling, to force the human race to paradise. They seemed barbarians, and they were saviours. They demanded light with the mask of night. Facing these men, who were ferocious, we admit, and terrifying, but ferocious and terrifying for good ends, there are other men, smiling, embroidered, gilded, beribboned, starred, in silk stockings, in white plumes, in yellow gloves, in varnished shoes, who, with their elbows on a velvet table, beside a marble chimney-piece, insist gently on demeanor and the preservation of the past, of the Middle Ages, of divine right, of fanaticism, of innocence, of slavery, of the death penalty, of war, glorifying in low tones and with politeness, the sword, the stake, and the scaffold. For our part, if we were forced to make a choice between the barbarians of civilization and the civilized men of barbarism, we should choose the barbarians.

Don’t curse the gods; you will feel shame when you have to call on them for help

Anaya and McAda were engaged in the same criminal venture. Fran Tilbury, the regular at the Jolly Roger Social Club, and a friend of McAda’s, told investigators that McAda had a pistol, but only for his own protection. “He’s a brilliant man,” added Tilbury, “a friendly person, easy to get along with.… In fact, he’s such a good person that people sometimes take advantage of him.” The procedure in the second careo was identical to that of the first. But this time, Scott McAda was invited to speak first. He had come prepared with a statement to read out. “I requested the first confrontation with Mr. Holbert three months ago because I wanted to ask the detainee, in person, why he named me in his ridiculous, concocted story of lies. Naively I thought that if I confronted him face-to-face he might tell me the truth. But Mr. Holbert stuck to his lies. […] “In my first careo in May, I asked the detainee many questions and he did not provide one answer to any of them. Today, I will not ask the detainee any questions, because it only feeds him information for new lies. The people who the detainee himself

From the club of what atheist call false hope and false god (which offer solace to weak minds), atheist are calling you to their club of no god and no hope (which offers nothing in return. Join the club only if you are a strong minded individual capable of handling your life alone without the help of gods. )

Jorge Luis Borges: “I have always imagined that paradise will be a kind of library.

C’mon, universe!  Tell me, where the heck have all the good guys gone?  Where the flip is my happily ever after, dammit?”   “It appears the universe might be a little too busy to answer your questions right now, but as a bona fide, card carrying member of the Paradise Good Guy Club, maybe I can help you with finding that happily-ever-after you seem to be missing, Pretty Lady.  Especially if the view from the front of you is as dazzling as the one I’m getting of you from behind,” a deep, smooth voice drawled from behind Carolina. 

And really, what would I have done all the years without a monster sound system in my car? Where else, beyond the walls of a club, can you experience bass loud enough to wipe your memory clean without complaint from the neighbors? Sound systems are what turn cars into escape vehicles, even if you've got nowhere to go. A drive to the convenience store is five minutes of that storm blowing in from paradise. I'll take the sneers of oldsters at intersections expecting gunfire. The relief is too rare to give up for civility's sake.

Above all, there was a belief in the revolution and the future, a feeling of having suddenly emerged into an era of equality and freedom. This is what we’re after. This is worth giving up the rooting-tooting boots for: belief, togetherness, equality. This is why people get obsessed with festivals, or clubs, or drugs, or football, or other temporal approximations of togetherness; these distilled vials of the elixir are craved by our starved souls. I’m as materialistic as the next man, probably more, given that the next man is George Orwell, and I am prepared to relinquish my trinkets for a shot at living in that ramshackle paradise. Human beings were trying to behave as human beings and not as cogs in the capitalist machine. Orwell wrote this in the mid-thirties. Consider how radically capitalism has advanced since then. In his great dystopian fiction 1984, Orwell described a totalitarian regime where humans were constantly observed, scrutinized, and manipulated, where freedom had been entirely eroded, omnipotent institutions dominated, and every home glowed with the mandatory TV screen streaming state-sponsored data. Well, he was spot on, aside from a bit of glitter and the fact that we voluntarily install our own screens. Orwell saw this brief period in Spanish history as a potential template for an alternative future. Ordinary workers took over their businesses and factories and ran them democratically. Naturally, they were brutally massacred by a multitude of enemies—the fascists, communists, and liberal democracies all coiled about them in a terrified asphyxiating clench. I’d never heard of this Revolution. The reason for this is, of course, that it’s so fucking inspiring. The Revolutions that we’re taught about are ones that wind neatly back to repression of one flavor or another and convey the bleak, despairing narrative that makes the forms of impoverishment we live with now, whether financial or spiritual, seem preferable. No one, absolutely no one, will tell you that an alternative is possible, and the ways and means are strewn all about us. A lot of other political struggles and social uprisings labeled “Revolutions” are, in my mind, unworthy of the term, in that they were simply a hegemonic exchange. Whether it’s the Russian Revolution, which led to Stalinism, or the American Revolution, which led to corporate oligarchy. The Revolution we advocate ought to have two irrefutable components: 1) nonviolence, and 2) the radical improvement of the quality of life for ordinary people.

Above all, there was a belief in the revolution and the future, a feeling of having suddenly emerged into an era of equality and freedom. This is what we’re after. This is worth giving up the rooting-tooting boots for: belief, togetherness, equality. This is why people get obsessed with festivals, or clubs, or drugs, or football, or other temporal approximations of togetherness; these distilled vials of the elixir are craved by our starved souls. I’m as materialistic as the next man, probably more, given that the next man is George Orwell, and I am prepared to relinquish my trinkets for a shot at living in that ramshackle paradise. Human beings were trying to behave as human beings and not as cogs in the capitalist machine. Orwell wrote this in the mid-thirties. Consider how radically capitalism has advanced since then. In his great dystopian fiction 1984, Orwell described a totalitarian regime where humans were constantly observed, scrutinized, and manipulated, where freedom had been entirely eroded, omnipotent institutions dominated, and every home glowed with the mandatory TV screen streaming state-sponsored data. Well, he was spot on, aside from a bit of glitter and the fact that we voluntarily install our own screens.

It’s one big mess.” “Yeah, but it’s their mess.” Maybe he’s right. Again. Damn him and his logic.

It’s like the man upstairs has created my ideal woman and put her right here in front of me, in this moment.

if you were single, the things I would do to you…

One of your functions as a pleasure sub is to provide sexual satisfaction upon the request of any Dominant who requires your services. Remember, this isn’t about your sexual gratification. It’s about obeying the desires and needs of the Masters and Mistresses who have invited you into their private paradise. That’s all you need to hold on to—that you serve at our pleasure. That service in and of itself should be enough for the true submissive.

No, never mind, I didn't think so. Mead, Dante's theme is man-not a man.' Lowell said finally with a mild patience that he reserved only for students. "The Italians forever twitch at Dante's sleeves trying to make him say he is of their politics and their way of thinking. Their way indeed! To confine it to Florence or Italy is to banish it from the sympathies of mankind. We read Paradise Lost as a poem but Dante's Comedy as a chronicle of our inner lives. Do you boys know of Isaiah 38:10

Then she called Matthew. He answered, "Where the fuck are you? I've been calling you for hours." She said, "I was asleep. Just woke up. What's the problem?" "Don't tell me you're still in your hotel room in your bed." "Didn't I say I just woke up? Still in bed. Needed some sleep. Just waking up. . . ." "Is that right?" . . . "Where are you right now?" "Antigua motherfucking Yacht Club. Room twenty-fucking-nine. Sitting on a . . . four-poster bed that has a damn mosquito net pulled back so I know I can see what the fuck I see. And I see an empty four-poster bed . . . But hell, maybe I'm wrong, because I know I didn't marry a goddamn liar. So I guess if I'm in your room and you're in the goddamn bed, just waking up, then either I am as blind as a fucking bat or you must be fucking invisible.

This is the opposite of the Judeo-Christian ideology that – whether or not one is religious – remains the historic basis of our civilization. In the Book of Genesis, God says to mankind: “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.” Subduing the Earth and filling the Earth with people is about as far from the ideology of the Sierra Club as one can get. The Sierra Club and fellow green ideologues may think that nature worship is something new. But, plenty of illiterate peoples living in jungles are a step ahead of the Sierra Club. When a paradise on Earth fails to emerge from the adoption of utopian ideas, totalitarianism often follows. Rather than changing their ideas, because they prove ineffective, ideologues double down and try to force their ideas on the population. That, of course, is the history of communism. The green ideologues in the U.S. are not communists. Rather than championing the workers, they champion the Earth. They also champion themselves.