Creations Captive Quotes

Cosmology is among the oldest subjects to captivate our species. And it’s no wonder. We’re storytellers, and what could be more grand than the story of creation?

Like dreams and works of art, fantasies are far more than what they appear to be on the surface. They’re complex psychic creations whose symbolic content mustn’t be translated into literal intent. “Think poetry, not prose,

Because she bears the image of God. She doesn’t have to conjure it, go get it from a salon, have plastic surgery or breast implants. No, beauty is an essence that is given to every woman at her creation.

Beginning with sin instead of creation is like trying to read a book by opening it in the middle: You don’t know the characters and can’t make sense of the plot.

In the case of our fair maiden, we have overlooked two very crucial aspects to that myth. On the one hand, none of us ever really believed the sorcerer was real. We thought we could have the maiden without a fight. Honestly, most of us guys thought our biggest battle was asking her out. And second, we have not understood the tower and its relationship to her wound; the damsel is in distress. If masculinity has come under assault, femininity has been brutalized. Eve is the crown of creation, remember? She embodies the exquisite beauty and the exotic mystery of God in a way that nothing else in all creation even comes close to. And so she is the special target of the Evil One; he turns his most vicious malice against her. If he can destroy her or keep her captive, he can ruin the story.

Redemption is as comprehensive as Creation and Fall. God does not save our souls while leaving our minds to function on their own. He redeems the whole person. Conversion is meant to give new direction to our thoughts, emotions, wills and habits.

The creation of the world did not occur at the beginning of time, it occurs every day.

When we have passed a certain age, the soul of the child that we were and the souls of the dead from whom we sprang come and shower upon us their riches and their spells, asking to be allowed to contribute to the new emotions which we feel and in which, erasing their former image, we recast them in an original creation.

Redemption is as comprehensive as creation or fall.

A merely symbolic religion does not threaten the ruling regime of materialistic science.

Everything is alive, everything is in motion, everything corresponds; the magnetic rays that emanate from me or from others flow directly through the infinite chain of creation whose transparent network is in continuous communication with the planets and the stars. A captive here on earth for the moment, I commune with the chorus of stars and they join in my sorrows and joys.

To the dark romance readers, I don’t know what kind of fucked up shit you’ve survived but welcome home. Now, turn the page.

Woman is the crown of creation - the most intricate, dazzling creature on earth. She has a crucial role to play, a destiny of her own.

Nobody wants a sales pitch. So instead of trying a hard sell, focus on telling a story that captivates your audience by painting a vivid picture of your vision. When you get good at storytelling, people want to be part of that story, and they’ll want to help others become part of that story too.

For the earliest Christians, the story of salvation was entirely one of rescue, all the way through: the epic of God descending into the depths of human estrangement to release his creatures from bondage to death, penetrating even into the heart of hades to set the captives free and recall his prodigal children and restore a broken creation. The sacrifice of Christ was not a “ransom” paid to the Father, but rather the “manumission fee” (λύτρον, lytron) given to purchase the release of slaves held in bondage in death’s household.

The whole, vast world was incomplete without me. Creation reached its finishing touch in me.

​Silver linings are like the hot sauce of life. You need to put that shit on everything

Given the way creation unfolds, how it builds to ever higher and higher works of art, can there be any doubt that Eve is the crown of creation?

Our vocation is not something we do for God- which would put the burden on us to perform and achieve. Instead, it is a way we participate in God's work. For God himself is engaged not only in the work of salvation, but also in the work of preserving and maintaining His creation.

He was an artist, and she, an anarchist, the destroyer of his beautiful creations. His body tensed, pushing hot adrenaline through his body with irascible rage. His anger gave way to lamentation as his heart wailed for his lost inventions. His mind saw each one desperately screaming for help, their outcries echoing between the orange flames and ashy ruins of their compatriots.

Everything that seems to us imperishable tends towards decay; a position in society, like anything else, is not created once and for all, but, just as much as the power of an empire, is continually rebuilding itself by a sort of perpetual process of creation, which explains the apparent anomalies in social or political history in the course of half a century. The creation of the world did not occur at the beginning of time, it occurs every day.

When God redeems us, He releases us from the guilt and power of sin, and restores us to our full humanity, so that we can once again carry out the tasks for which we were created. Because of Christ's redemption on the cross, our work takes on a new aspect as well- it becomes a means of sharing in His redemptive purposes. In cultivating creation, we not only recover our original purpose, but also bring a redemptive force to reverse the evil and corruption introduced by the fall.

Wagner’s Ring Cycle has kept one version of one of the great Norse stories alive in the minds of music lovers. Readers of modern fantasy will find many echoes of the Norse tales as well. Neil Gaiman, Douglas Adams and others have explicitly taken some of the Norse gods and put them into a modern setting with strange, sad and humorous results. Echoes of Norse tales and creatures abound in the speculative fiction of Ursula Le Guin, J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Tad Williams and others. Something in these old and puzzling stories still has the power to move and unsettle us, and to inspire new acts of creation.

The Christian message does not begin with "accept Christ as your Savior"; it begins with "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth". The Bible teaches that God is the sole source of the entire created order. No other gods compare with Him; no natural forces exist on their own; nothing receives its nature or existence from another source. Thus, His Word, or laws, or creation ordinances give the world its order and structure. God's creative world is the source of the laws of physical nature (natural sciences), human nature (ethics, politics, economics, aesthetics) and even logic. That's why Psalm 119:91 says, "all things are your servants". There is no philosophically or spiritually neutral subject matter.

Boosting dopamine can lead to enthusiastic engagement with things that would otherwise be perceived as unimportant. For example, marijuana users have been known to stand in front of a sink, watching water drip from the faucet, captivated by the otherwise mundane sight of the drops falling over and over again. The dopamine-boosting effect is also evident when marijuana smokers get lost in their own thoughts, floating aimlessly through imaginary worlds of their own creation. On the other hand, in some situations marijuana suppresses dopamine, mimicking what H&N molecules tend to do. In that case, activities that would typically be associated with wanting and motivation, such as going to work, studying, or taking a shower, seem less important. IMPULSIVENESS

Computational models of the mind would make sense if what a computer actually does could be characterized as an elementary version of what the mind does, or at least as something remotely like thinking. In fact, though, there is not even a useful analogy to be drawn here. A computer does not even really compute. We compute, using it as a tool. We can set a program in motion to calculate the square root of pi, but the stream of digits that will appear on the screen will have mathematical content only because of our intentions, and because we—not the computer—are running algorithms. The computer, in itself, as an object or a series of physical events, does not contain or produce any symbols at all; its operations are not determined by any semantic content but only by binary sequences that mean nothing in themselves. The visible figures that appear on the computer’s screen are only the electronic traces of sets of binary correlates, and they serve as symbols only when we represent them as such, and assign them intelligible significances. The computer could just as well be programmed so that it would respond to the request for the square root of pi with the result “Rupert Bear”; nor would it be wrong to do so, because an ensemble of merely material components and purely physical events can be neither wrong nor right about anything—in fact, it cannot be about anything at all. Software no more “thinks” than a minute hand knows the time or the printed word “pelican” knows what a pelican is. We might just as well liken the mind to an abacus, a typewriter, or a library. No computer has ever used language, or responded to a question, or assigned a meaning to anything. No computer has ever so much as added two numbers together, let alone entertained a thought, and none ever will. The only intelligence or consciousness or even illusion of consciousness in the whole computational process is situated, quite incommutably, in us; everything seemingly analogous to our minds in our machines is reducible, when analyzed correctly, only back to our own minds once again, and we end where we began, immersed in the same mystery as ever. We believe otherwise only when, like Narcissus bent above the waters, we look down at our creations and, captivated by what we see reflected in them, imagine that another gaze has met our own.

Look, look," cried the count, seizing the young men's hands - "look, for on my soul it is curious. Here is a man who had resigned himself to his fate, who was going to the scaffold to die - like a coward, it is true, but he was about to die without resistance. Do you know what gave him strength? - do you know what consoled him? It was, that another partook of his punishment - that another partook of his anguish - that another was to die before him. Lead two sheep to the butcher's, two oxen to the slaughterhouse, and make one of them understand that his companion will not die; the sheep will bleat for pleasure, the ox will bellow with joy. But man - man, whom God created in his own image - man, upon whom God has laid his first, his sole commandment, to love his neighbor - man, to whom God has given a voice to express his thoughts - what is his first cry when he hears his fellow man is saved? A blasphemy. Honor to man, this masterpiece, this masterpiece of nature, this king of the creation! The people all took part against Andrea, and twenty thousand voices cried, "Put him to death! put him to death!" Franz sprang back, but the count seized his arm, and held him before the window. "What are you doing?" said he. "Do you pity him? If you heard the cry of 'Mad dog!' you would take your gun - you would unhesitatingly shoot the poor beast, who, after all, was only guilty of having been bitten by another dog. And yet you pity a man who, without being bitten by one of his race, has yet murdered his benefactor; and who, now unable to kill any one, because his hands are bound, wishes to see his companion in captivity perish. No, no - look, look!

Biblical theology itself can be understood as a narrative. The story line has three fundamental turning points—creation, fall, and redemption (leading to a final glorification). The account begins with creation, which means that even today, the world continues to bear signs of the beauty and wonder of its original creation. But its perfection was shattered by the tragedy of the fall into sin, erupting into war, injustice, and oppression. Throughout history, the forces of good and evil have engaged in cosmic battle—until, finally, history reached its climax in the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In Christ, God himself entered the space/time world to share the human condition. By suffering injustice and death himself, he broke their power over us. Ever since that great turning point, God has been applying the effects of salvation to liberate captives and regain territory.

Although we should affirm the wonder and mystery of sexual intimacy and romantic attraction as God's good creations, we need to set these aesthetic enjoyments within the context of the Christian virtues of fidelity, self-sacrifice, and patience in suffering. Bringing this together, our pastoral approach should be double-edged, seeking to challenge our culture's worship of sexual desire and personal fulfillment while offering a different vision of human flourishing. Christian formative involves both RESISTANCE and REDIRECTION. But is is the redirection of our desires that enables our resistance of cultural idolatries. Failure to attend to the dynamics of our desires leads to inevitable self-deception regarding the 'freedom' of our actions. Especially within our sexual lives, our hearts must be truly captivated by the goodness of the Christian vision of life, so that our whole self is drawn toward it, or our commitment to live in tune with it will be brittle.

These things cannot be loved. The best man hates them most; the worst man cannot love them. But are these the man? Does a woman bear that form in virtue of these? Lies there not within the man and the woman a divine element of brotherhood, of sisterhood, a something lovely and lovable,—slowly fading, it may be,—dying away under the fierce heat of vile passions, or the yet more fearful cold of sepulchral selfishness—but there? Shall that divine something, which, once awakened to be its own holy self in the man, will loathe these unlovely things tenfold more than we loathe them now—shall this divine thing have no recognition from us? It is the very presence of this fading humanity that makes it possible for us to hate. If it were an animal only, and not a man or a woman that did us hurt, we should not hate: we should only kill. We hate the man just because we are prevented from loving him. We push over the verge of the creation—we damn—just because we cannot embrace. For to embrace is the necessity of our deepest being. That foiled, we hate. Instead of admonishing ourselves that there is our enchained brother, that there lies our enchanted, disfigured, scarce recognizable sister, captive of the devil, to break, how much sooner, from their bonds, that we love them!—we recoil into the hate which would fix them there; and the dearly lovable reality of them we sacrifice to the outer falsehood of Satan's incantations, thus leaving them to perish. Nay, we murder them to get rid of them, we hate them. Yet within the most obnoxious to our hate, lies that which, could it but show itself as it is, and as it will show itself one day, would compel from our hearts a devotion of love. It is not the unfriendly, the unlovely, that we are told to love, but the brother, the sister, who is unkind, who is unlovely. Shall we leave our brother to his desolate fate? Shall we not rather say, "With my love at least shalt thou be compassed about, for thou hast not thy own lovingness to infold thee; love shall come as near thee as it may; and when thine comes forth to meet mine, we shall be one in the indwelling God"?

A BATH   Sitting in the bath with her I carefully remove the paint from her shoulders to her elbows, creating the kind of memory that I will never forget. She takes her turn removing as much paint from off me as she can. The entire bar of soap is slowly reduced to a nib successfully loosening all of the paint from our wet bodies. The colors and suds slip through my hands and fingers as I move across the canvas of her slender physique. The vibrant colors eventually become more muddied as they blend together, sliding off of her and down into the drain. Gripping at her body has never felt so natural––almost sculptural like, gliding across the smoothness of the human medium that captivates me so. She too takes the initiative of making sure that I am washed clean as she feels for me and any dirty thing left clinging to me. Her hands slip passed the ridges of my rib as if to remember, the way that moisture catches between the shapes that mark a turtles back. Her eyes now watch me the way that nature studies her curious guest who seeks for himself the origin of his creation.

God in the Spirit revealed in Jesus Christ, calls us by grace to be renewed in the image of our Creator, that we may be one in divine love for the world. Today is the day God cares for the integrity of creation, wills the healing and wholeness of all life, weeps at the plunder of earth’s goodness. And so shall we. Today is the day God embraces all hues of humanity, delights in diversity and difference, favors solidarity transforming strangers into friends. And so shall we. Today is the day God cries with the masses of starving people, despises growing disparity between rich and poor, demands justice for workers in the marketplace. And so shall we. Today is the day God deplores violence in our homes and streets, rebukes the world’s warring madness, humbles the powerful and lifts up the lowly. And so shall we. Today is the day God calls for nations and peoples to live in peace, celebrates where justice and mercy embrace, exults when the wolf grazes with the lamb. And so shall we. Today is the day God brings good news to the poor, proclaims release to the captives, gives sight to the blind, and sets the oppressed free. And so shall we.

KEEP YOUR FOCUS ON ME. I have gifted you with amazing freedom, including the ability to choose the focal point of your mind. Only the crown of My creation has such remarkable capability; this is a sign of being made in My image. Let the goal of this day be to bring every thought captive to Me. Whenever your mind wanders, lasso those thoughts and bring them into My Presence. In My radiant Light, anxious thoughts shrink and shrivel away. Judgmental thoughts are unmasked as you bask in My unconditional Love. Confused ideas are untangled while you rest in the simplicity of My Peace. I will guard you and keep you in constant Peace, as you focus your mind on Me. You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor. PSALM 8 : 5 Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.” So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. GENESIS 1 : 26 – 27 We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ. 2 CORINTHIANS 10 : 5 You will guard him and keep him in perfect and constant peace whose mind [both its inclination and its character] is stayed on You, because he commits himself to You, leans on You, and hopes confidently in You. ISAIAH 26 : 3 (AMP)

Reading Group Discussion Questions 1.​Discuss Captain Jefferson Kyle Kidd’s work as a newspaper reader. What does he bring to his audience, and what does he gain from his work besides financial compensation? 2.​Why does Kidd accept the difficult job of returning Johanna home? What drives him to complete the job despite the danger and obstacles? 3.​Why do you think Johanna wants to stay with her Kiowa family? What do you think she remembers of her life before she was taken? 4.​What connects Kidd to Johanna? Why does she seem to trust him so easily? 5.​What does Kidd worry may become of Johanna once she’s returned to her family? What does he know of the fate of other “returned captives”? 6.​Doris Dillion says that Johanna is “carried away on the flood of the world,” and is “not real and not not-real.” She describes her as having “been through two creations” and “forever falling.” Do you agree with her assessment? Does Johanna remain this way through the course of the novel? 7.​Discuss the various tensions in the novel: Indians and whites, soldiers and civilizations, and America’s recent past and its unsure future. In what ways do these tensions underlie the story of Kidd and Johanna? 8.​Imagine the perspective of Johanna’s Kiowa family. Why, do you think, they would’ve taken her in and raised her? Why would they give her up? How do you think they felt when they let her go? 9.​Partway through his journey with Johanna, Kidd feels as though he was “drawn back into the stream of being because there was once again a life in his hands.” What do you think this means? What

He could mentally picture, in great detail, some of the grand, intricately detailed pastries and cakes Lani had constructed at Gateau. Her inspired creations had drawn raves. She hadn't been a Beard nominee during her first year of eligibility for nothing. She'd worked tirelessly to perfect even the tiniest detail, not because the client- or an awards committee- would have noticed, but because it mattered to her that each effort be her best. In fact, it was her work ethic and dedication that had first caught his attention. She wasn't a grandstander, like most with her natural ability, behaving in whatever manner it took to stick out and be noticed. She let her work speak for her. And speak it did. It fairly shouted, in fact. Once he'd noticed, he couldn't help being further captivated by how different her demeanor was from most budding chefs. Bravado, with a healthy dose of self-confidence bordering on arrogance, was a trademark of the profession. Some would say it was a requirement. Leilani's quiet charm, and what he'd come to describe as her relentless calm and ruthless optimism had made an indelible mark on him. She wasn't like any baker he'd ever met, much less any top-notch chef. She cared, she labored- hard- and she lived, breathed, ate, and slept food, as any great chef did. But she was never frantic, never obsessed, never... overwrought, as most great chefs were. That teetering-off-the-cliff verve was the atmosphere he'd lived in, thrived on, almost his entire life. Leilani had that same core passion in spades, but it resided in a special place inside her. She simply allowed it to flow outward, like a quietly rippling stream, steady and true. As even the gentlest flowing stream could wear away the sturdiest stone, so had Leilani worn down any resistance he'd tried to build up against her steady charm... and she'd done it without even trying.

These policies would come back to haunt Europe in the aftermath of the 2008 collapse. Instead of the vigorous, countercyclical fiscal, monetary, and debt relief policies called for in the wake of a 1929-scale crash, Europe’s institutions promoted austerity reminiscent of the post–World War I era. The debt and deficit limits of Maastricht precluded strong fiscal stimulus, and the government of Angela Merkel resisted emergency waivers. Germany, an export champion, which in effect had an artificially cheap currency in the euro, profited from other nations’ misery. Germany could prosper by running a large export surplus (equal to almost 10 percent of its GDP), but not all nations can have surpluses. The European Central Bank, which reported to nineteen different national masters that used the euro, had neither the tools nor the mandate available to the US Federal Reserve. The ECB did cut interest rates, but it did not engage in the scale of credit creation pursued by the Fed. The Germans successfully resisted any Europeanizing of the sovereign debt of the EU’s weaker nations, pressing them instead to regain the confidence of capital markets by deflating. Sovereign debt financing by the ECB went mainly to repay private and state creditors, not to rekindle growth. Thus did “fortress Europe,” which advocates and detractors circa 1981 both saw as a kind of social democratic alternative to the liberal capitalism of the Anglo-Saxon nations, replicate the worst aspects of a global system captive to the demands of speculative private capital. The Maastricht constitution not only internalized those norms, but enforced them. The dream of managed capitalism on one continent became a laissez-faire nightmare—not laissez-faire in the sense of no rules, but rather rules structured to serve corporations and banks at the expense of workers and citizens. The fortress became a brig. There was plenty to criticize in the US response to the 2008 collapse—too small a stimulus, too much focus on deficit reduction, too little attention to labor policy, too feeble a financial restructuring—but by 2016, US unemployment had come back down to less than 5 percent. In Europe, it remained stuck at more than 10 percent, with all of the social dynamite produced by persistent joblessness.

After several courses, Dylan looked at the menu, noting that "Cheeseburger" was next up. "Okay, this is something I recognize," he said with relief. "Don't get too excited," said Grace knowingly as she sipped the last of a bright and barnyard funky Romanee-Saint-Vivant from a big-bowled burgundy stem. The waiter stepped out of the shadows and set two servings of the next course on the table simultaneously. Another server placed two very large Bordeaux stems on the table, and then carefully filled each with just one and a half ounces of wine. "This is Chef's cheeseburger," the waiter said. "Paired with the '70 Latour." The waiter and other server then backed away. Dylan and Grace leaned forward, examining the strange creation. It smelled amazing, though it looked much more like something from a science class than from a Michelin-starred restaurant-- a tiny piece of freeze-dried cheese on a teaspoon of bison tartare, lying atop a small lettuce pillow that had been filled with Vidalia onion smoke. It sat on a small warm open-face wheat bun, and the whole thing was presented on a miniature plate on which was a little pool of foamed heirloom tomato, and another of foamed mustard seed. And it was all topped with a few droplets of pureed brined Japanese cucumber. Dylan just stared at it. "I feel like it belongs in a museum." "I know. It's almost too beautiful to eat," Grace said. They were both captivated by the variety of scents coming from the presentation. It did, indeed, smell like an amazing cheeseburger. "Well, I'm gonna try," said Dylan, putting the little top bun on. Grace watched as he picked it all up with his thumb and forefinger, dapped it in the foamed tomato and mustard, and popped it in his mouth. Dylan's mouth and nose were filled to bursting with all the expected flavors and scents of a great cheeseburger-- bread, meat and cheese, ketchup and mustard, lettuce and pickle. Oh, wow, it was good. And as he chewed, he popped the lettuce pillow, adding just the right touch of sweet onion scent and flavor to the mouthful.

The Hindu scriptures place the present world-age as occurring within the Kali Yuga of a much longer universal cycle than the simple 24,000-year equinoctial cycle with which Sri Yukteswar was concerned. The universal cycle of the scriptures is 4,300,560,000 years in extent, and measures out a Day of Creation. This vast figure is based on the relationship between the length of the solar year and a multiple of pi (3.1416, the ratio of the circumference to the diameter of a circle). The life span for a whole universe, according to the ancient seers, is 314,159,000,000,000 solar years, or “One Age of Brahma.” The Hindu scriptures declare that an earth such as ours is dissolved for one of two reasons: the inhabitants as a whole become either completely good or completely evil. The world mind thus generates a power that releases the captive atoms held together as an earth. Dire pronouncements are occasionally published regarding an imminent “end of the world.” Planetary cycles, however, proceed according to an orderly divine plan. No earthly dissolution is in sight; many ascending and descending equinoctial cycles are yet in store for our planet in its present form. 6

We are captives of our own identities, living in prisons of our own creations.

One suspects he disdained the traditional preparations of drawing and modeling in favor of cutting straight into the marble containing the captive soul yearning for release. The result is a kind of metaphor perhaps unconscious for the struggle of artistic creation. The only way Michelangelo could show us this was to leave the figure half-embedded in the rock.

Her dream of being a textile artist had actually begun as a fetish for vintage clothing. Not because she loved clothes. She’d never cared about fashion. It was fabric that captivated her, the way it moved and felt and behaved. Watered silks and pebbly knits, crisp organdy, diaphanous lace, nubby tweeds and lamb-soft worsteds, each with a texture and personality all its own. Her first attempt had been crude and unsophisticated, but a passion for creation had already found its way into her blood, driving her to perfect her craft with practice and new techniques. What had started as a fetish had become a quiet obsession, resulting in a series of pieces dubbed the Storm Watch Collection.

Literature is doomed if liberty of thought perishes. Not only is it doomed in any country which retains a totalitarian structure; but any writer who adopts the totalitarian outlook, who finds excuses for persecution and the falsification of reality, thereby destroys himself as a writer. There is no way out of this... At some time in the future, if the human mind becomes something totally different from what it is now, we may learn to separate literary creation from intellectual honesty. At present we know only that the imagination, like certain wild animals, will not breed in captivity. Any writer or journalist who denies that fact — and nearly all the current praise of the Soviet Union contains or implies such a denial — is, in effect, demanding his own destruction.

Planters were more than willing to play their role in the drama. Enfranchised by the creation of a popularly elected territorial legislature, they achieved far more power than they ever had under Spanish or even French rule, and they were quick to turn it on the free people of color. In 1806, within three years of American accession, the planter-dominated legislature contained the growth of the free black population, severely circumscribing the rights of slaves to initiate manumission. Thereafter slaves could be freed only by special legislative enactment. That done, the legislature struck at the privileges free people of color had enjoyed under Spanish rule, issuing prohibitions against carrying guns, punishing free black criminals more severely than white ones, and authorizing slaves to testify in court against free blacks but not whites. In an act that represented the very essence of the planters' contempt for people of color, the territorial legislature declared that 'free people of color ought never to insult or strike white people, nor presume to conceive themselves equal to whites, but on the contrary . . . they ought to yield to them on every occasion and never speak or answer them but with respect.' With planters now in control, the free people's position in the society of the lower Mississippi Valley slipped sharply. Claiborne slowly reduced the size of the black militia, first placing it under the control of white officers and then deactiviting it entirely when the territorial legislature refused to recommission it. The free black population continued to grow, but - with limitations on manumission and self-purchase - most of the growth derived from the natural increase and immigration. The dynamism of the final decades of the eighteenth century, when the free black population grew faster than either the white or slave population, dissipated, prosperity declined, and the great thrust toward equality was blunted as the new American ruler turned its back on them. In the years that followed, as white immigrants flowed into the Mississippi Valley and the Gulf ports grew whiter, American administrators found it easier to ignore the free people of color or, worse yet, let the planters have their way. Occasionally, new crises arose, suddenly elevating free people to their old importance. In 1811, when slaves revolted in Pointe Coupee, and in 1815, when the British invaded Louisiana, free colored militiamen took up their traditional role as the handmaiden of the ruling class in hopes that their loyalty would be rewarded. But long-term gains were few. Free people of color were forced to settle for a middling status, above slaves but below whites. The collapse of the free people's struggle for equality cleared the way for the expansion of slavery. The Age of Revolution had threatened slavery in the lower Mississippi Valley, as it had elsewhere on the mainland. Planters parried the thrust with success. As in the Upper and Lower South, African-American slavery grew far more rapidly than freedom in the lower Mississippi Valley during the post-revolutionary years. The planters' westward surge out of the seaboard regions soon connected with their northward movement up the Mississippi Valley to create what would be the heartland of the plantation South in the nineteenth century. As the Age of Revolution receded, the plantation revolution roared ahead, and with it the Second Middle Passage.

predictability is a mirage. Our need for constancy limits how much we are willing to know the person who’s next to us. We are invested in having him or her conform to an image that is often a creation of our own imagination, based on our own set of needs.

One of the saddest aspects of the war was the British use of many of its ships to house American prisoners. It is estimated that of the 25,000 American soldiers who died in the war, close to 11,500 died from wounds, sickness, and starvation while held as captives aboard these floating prisons stationed in New York Harbor.

Again, a small part of me wonders what the hell it is about this bond that makes me feel calm in risking my life for it.

If the mortal fought Leon and didn’t give in to the council, then maybe, this kitten has claws.

I think I might have to say goodbye to my social life. Spicy romance novels are way more interesting,

Focus, little student. Write your notes like a good girl.

Let them watch. I want them to know who you belong to.

You again.” I start, keeping my voice low. “What do you want? Also, did you do this?” I wave at the window, trying to encompass the whole dead people predicament. “Because, respectfully, I’d like the gift receipt.

I don’t think you ever become cured of depression. It’s a bit like addiction.

MY LOVE, The day Prometheus breathed life into the new me, was the day you arrived in a little box. A shiny, futuristic black box, Pandora's box, despite my doubts I couldn't help but open it to finally meet you. Doubts, because I was happy with who I was, with who I saw looking at me through the eyes of others I presented myself to in everyday life. But I was seduced by the worlds that were promised to me if I let you into my life, who I would be with you in my pocket. As soon as the lid came off and I swiped my fingers over your radiant surface for the first time, the world and I were bursting at the seams. What a creation we were together, to what sized we grew! My brain an encyclopedia, my body an unerring compass, my eyes and ears reaching infinitely with you as an extension of myself. Through you, I, the cyborg, could enter bewilderingly virtual spaces in which I was presently absent, meanwhile absently present in the material world of boring train rides, waiting lines, and mindless chit chats with others. I felt invincible, transformed into a citizen of the world because of you, an intellectual of unimaginable proportions for the vast sea of knowledge you allowed me to surf on, a public speaker and influencer of significance because my words and visual snippets of my days could be launched into the world with the flick of a finger, likes enticing and confirming me. How intoxicating! How wonderfully, pleasantly, intoxicating! But I can't help but sometimes lie awake at night, my internal clock slowing down with your seductive blue light illuminating my face with 2, 457, 600 (1920×1080) LED suns. In those moments, as my eyes are captivated by your glow, I can't help thinking about the time before you arrived, and how I sometimes miss my low definition self. You were always there, sometimes it feels like we are in fact one — finally reunited with my other Plato's half, fused into not a circle but a perfect black rectangle. Through your eyes I see the world and myself in Ultra-HD, my pixel density has never been so high. But you are sometimes vicious, my dear — a viper, a temptress, when then again with sweet codes you reflect my most beautiful self, and I cannot help but love me through your gaze, then again with suffocating algorithms you fragment my self and blow it up to grotesque self-distortions, hurling me into an endless me-loop, that eventually disgusts and alienates me. In those moments you are a distorting mirror, a frightening black box, a black hole that swallows my attention in ways I can't see through. I see my old self disappearing in the vague, dark reflection of myself, with double chin and dull eyes, which I sometimes catch in your black glass when your suns stop dazzling me for a split second. And I can't help but wonder if my 'self' in times of its digital recombination, in which the 'I' is a fragmented multitude of pixels that never fully touch at their sides, a simulacrum, maybe has lost some of its aura. But in the morning all is forgotten, my love, all is well. As soon as we merge back into one, as soon as I, panicked, reach for my pocket on the train, only to discover with a glow of relief that you were there after all, I can't imagine an "I" without you. Artificial by nature my self resides within your screen, I would be lost without you.

Don’t forget what I am, Vivian. You might have something to stop you from bearing my children now – but the second my collar comes off, I will un-exist it. I fucking can’t wait to see you round with my child.

Empty is far better than dealing with people,

A party in my honour, they REALLY shouldn’t have.

If someone does find you, though, you will never say a fucking word about what happened here today.” Yeah, you keep lying to yourself, bestie.

Do or die.

my resume is about to become tailored to becoming a ghostbuster,

What is the point of seeing ghosts if you can’t even talk to them?

My precious, innocent little human. An enigma of magic follows you around like a fucking stench of corruption. What. The. Fuck. Are. You?

Mental note: do not piss off the boss-level ghost.

Good girl.

She’s mostly come to terms with the fact that a mini-me bleached-blonde clone didn’t climb out of her vagina.

don’t think you ever become cured of depression. It’s a bit like addiction

You always need to stay vigilant of your triggers to make sure you don’t fall off the wagon.

Awake, awake, put on strength, O arm of the Lord; awake, as in the days of old, the generations of ancient times. Art thou not it that cut Rahab [Egypt] in pieces that pierced the dragon? Art thou not it which dried up the sea, the waters of the great deep; that made the depths of the sea a way for the redeemed to pass over? And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come with singing unto Zion: and everlasting joy shall be upon their heads: they shall obtain gladness and joy, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away. I, even I, am He that comforteth you: who art thou, that thou art afraid of man that shall die, and of the son of man which shall be made as grass; and hast forgotten the Lord thy Maker, that stretched forth the heavens, and laid the foundation of the earth; and fearest continually all the day because of the fury of the oppressor? The captive exile shall speedily be loosed; and he shall not die and go down into the pit, neither shall his bread fail. For I am the Lord thy God, which stirreth up the sea that the waves thereof roar: the lord of hosts is His name. And I have put My word in thy mouth, and have covered thee in the shadow of Mine hand, the I may plant the heavens, and lay the foundations of the earth, and say unto Zion, Thou art My People.” Isaiah 51.9-16 Surely the fact that “the sea is His and He made it,”1 and that He “Hath measured the waters in the hollow of His hand,” (Isaiah 40.12) is sufficient ground for confidence in him by any of His people, whether it be for deliverance from danger, for overcoming grace, or for help in carrying on the work to which He has called them.

So by these miracles Christ teaches you that the Sabbath, the seventh day of the week, is the crowning glory of the Gospel. Kept as God intended, it enables you to see Christ as both Redeemer and Creator. His Redeeming power is His creative power. The Sabbath of the Lord, the memorial of creation, reminds you of the power of God to salvation to everyone that believes. It reveals to you, as nothing else can, that Christ was anointed by the Holy Spirit “to preach the Gospel to the poor;” “to heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to preach the acceptable year of the Lord.”            Luke 4:18, 19.

Professor Goldziher also shows, in his "Mythology Among the Hebrews," [99:5] that the story of the creation was borrowed by the Hebrews from the Babylonians. He also informs us that the notion of the bôrê and yôsêr, "Creator" (the term used in the cosmogony in Genesis) as an integral part of the idea of God, are first brought into use by the prophets of the captivity. "Thus also the story of the Garden of Eden, as a supplement to the history of the Creation, was written down at Babylon.

The Exile In July 587 BCE, Babylonian soldiers broke through Jerusalem’s walls, ending a starvation siege that had lasted well over a year. They burned the city and Solomon’s temple and took its king and many other leaders to Babylon as captives, leaving others to fend for themselves in the destroyed land. Many surrounding countries disappeared altogether when similar disasters befell them. But Judah did not. Instead, the period scholars most often call the “Babylonian exile” inspired religious leaders to revise parts of Scripture that had been passed down to them. It also sparked the writing of entirely new Scriptures and the revision of ideas about God, creation, and history. Much of what is called the Hebrew Scriptures or Old Testament was written, edited, and compiled during and after this national tragedy.

We were in desperate straits. Christ came to “ransom captive Israel” and to “disperse the gloomy clouds of night.” In our insolence, we were “doomed by law to endless woe” and were necessarily and justly consigned to “the dreadful gulf below.” But this darkness we had created was invaded by the heavenly host, “Rank on rank the host of heaven spreads its vanguard on the way,” and the night above the shepherds lit up as though a lightning bolt had refused to go out, had refused to stop shining. The road was weary, but now we may urge others to “rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing.” We needed this salvation just as He gave it. “O Savior, King of glory, who dost our weakness know.” The God who knows our frame timed it perfectly. And so the ache was healed. “In Bethlehem, in Israel, this blessed babe was born.” This was “Israel’s strength and consolation,” He was the “dear desire of every nation.” “Now He shines, the long expected,” and “glories stream from heaven afar.” All creation is summoned to rejoice. He is the “high born King of ages”—“Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing.” Nothing whatever is excluded; we invite “all that grows beneath the shining of the moon and burning sun” to join in our praise. This gospel is proclaimed, and the antiphon is sung by the “mountains in reply.” All of it bursts forth—both “heav’n and nature sing.” This is right and fitting because “he comes to make His blessings flow, far as the curse is found.” All cursed things may sing this blessing.

I don’t think you ever become cured of depression. It’s a bit like addiction. You always need to stay vigilant of your triggers to make sure you don’t fall off the wagon.

How does one bribe a ghost, you ask? Apparently, not with wine.

The enthralling elegance of mathematics defines the circular motion of the stars, the angles of observation, the tallies of our economics, the shapes of our tools, the counting of our assets, and the creation of delicious food, compelling art, and captivating music. The span of our evolution provides a humbling realization that the brain has been mathematically evolving for thousands of years before any evidence we may currently have. Concepts and ideas have continually built upon previous mathematical truths, which humans have frequently proved, tested, and retested to establish new foundational truths. These scientific truths linger in the mathematical cognizance of the birds that count their hatchlings, the bees that geometrically shape their homes, the dogs that count their treats, and the seals that understand the flow of the oceans currents.

Hadj Ounis Troy, a gifted NY artist, merges unique vision with oil, acrylic, and watercolor mastery. His artworks grace national galleries, with a signature piece at Creativeville's Art Museum. A sculptural master, Hadj Ounis extends innovation to digital art, seamlessly blending mediums for captivating mixed media creations.

Is the Otherworld a realm? What a terrible name for a realm. Does that mean there’s another realm called ‘Thatworld,’ or maybe ‘Thisworld’? Truly, the possibilities abound.

Your love is magic It began in the summer Your light captured me Your captivating eyes The magic I waited for Your love is transforming me I feel as if I am falling into the eternal Your world is full of wonders Your soul is pure, your mind is clear The bubble of the magic is our creation Do not wake me up from serenity I feel tranquilly enclave Iceland by your side Your love is pure, do not wake me up I breathe pure love, I am alive I feel your breath in mine I meet my soul we are now one I feel cell energy in mine The magnificent flame Evade recaptured, the telepathic moments You touched my soul so deep I belong here with my mirror. The Sphere In the puzzle of life, it all makes sense My mind flies in a million places Every particle in me is vibrating I cannot control it, just let it flow I activate the avalanche in me The strength the circle it all begins At the age of life is where I stand The power of mind, the power of me BOOK: LIFTING THE VAIL AUTHOR: A. M. FRITH Available on Amazon

the creation of the Russkaya Pravda, “Russian Law” or “Russian Justice.

Laxmi Nagar, a heaven for sweet tooths, boasts an array of renowned mithai shops. But amidst these gems, Shagun Sweets shines brightly, captivating hearts with its delectable offerings. For generations, we've crafted authentic Indian sweets using time-honored recipes and the finest ingredients. Step into our welcoming space and be greeted by the irresistible aroma of freshly prepared pedas, soan papdis, and barfis. Explore our diverse selection, from melt-in-your-mouth kalakhands to rich and creamy rasgullas. We proudly present traditional favorites like kaju katlis and ladoos alongside innovative creations that tantalize your taste buds. Visit us today and discover why we're a beloved name among the famous sweet shops in Laxmi Nagar.

Kane was the great god of procreation and was also worshiped as the ancestor of both royalty (chiefs of different levels) and commoners. Kane plays a central figure in both the creation account of the world and in many versions of the Kumu-Honua, the legend of the first man on Earth.

This is also evidenced by wider genealogies of similar gods across Polynesia, where they also hold dominion over the afterlife. These connections of death and creation show that Kane and Kanaloa were two necessary halves of the world, a philosophy that is not overly concerned with the dichotomy of good versus evil. In cultural activities and old chants, there exists a vast amount of mythical and religious lore that invokes Kane and Kanaloa together. Both gods were invoked by those involved with canoes, whether they were builders, explorers, or sailors, with Kane being for the consecration of newly built canoes and Kanaloa for sailing.

in order for this power to truly captivate us, it has to be generated in the creation of meaning and in social performance,

Genesis tells us that God spoke the entire universe into being with His Word—what John 1:1 calls the Logos. The Greek word means not only Word but also reason or rationality, and the ancient Stoics used it to mean the rational structure of the universe. Thus the underlying structure of the entire universe reflects the mind of the Creator. There is no fact/value dichotomy in the scriptural account. Nothing has an autonomous or independent identity, separate from the will of the Creator. As a result, all creation must be interpreted in light of its relationship to God.

Specifically, I want to bring these songs and texts to bear on the ecological crisis. It seems to me that the environmental crisis is, at heart, a failure and a perversion of the human imagination. Our imaginations have been taken captive by an ecocidal ideology of economic growth that invariably will render us homeless in a world unfit for habitation. If imagination is the issue, then a redirection of our lives toward creation care will not emerge out of statistics of ecological despoliation, as important as those statistics might be. What we need is liberated imagination, imagination set free to envision an alternative life, an ecological imagination that engenders a life of restorative homemaking in our creational home. Cockburn’s art, especially when interpreted in dialogue with biblical visions, is a rich resource for funding such an imagination.[206]

DeepArt.io: What it’s for: Transforming photos into artwork. How it works: Whether it’s Van Gogh’s starry swirls or Warhol’s pop art you’re after, DeepArt brings a touch of classic artistry to your designs. 2. Lumen5: What it’s for: Video content creation for products. How it works: Convert those text descriptions into vibrant video narratives. Lumen5 crafts visual stories tailored to your product, making your designs not just seen but experienced. 3. Crello: What it’s for: Design and animation. How it works: As your on-call graphic designer, you can feed Crello a theme and get back a flurry of design elements and animations. Perfect for those captivating store banners and promotional materials. 4. Everbee: What it’s for: Automated design creation. How it works: Everbee’s AI processes trends and popular designs to suggest fresh, market-ready creations. It’s like having a personal design assistant who’s always in the know. 5. RelayThat: What it’s for: Brand consistency in designs. How it works: Maintain a consistent look and feel across all your products. Input your brand elements— colors, fonts, logos—and RelayThat ensures every design harmonizes with your brand voice. 6. Printful’s Mockup Generator: What it’s for: Product mockup visualization. How it works: A gem for visualizing your designs in the real world. See how they’d look on T-shirts, mugs, posters, and more—basically, a digital fitting room for your art.

What was it they say about your imaginary friends? ‘It’s okay to see them, but if they talk back to you, then you’ve lost it completely.

Silver linings are like the hot sauce of life. You need to put that shit on everything.

Your destiny is your own. It is not something to be chosen by outsiders but from the force of your own will.

I’ve always been a problem. Not outgoing enough, not pretty enough, or social enough. I’ve kept secrets, and all it’s ever done is hurt those I love. I’ve fought my whole life to keep my head above water, but I’m drowning.

Delight doesn’t require a journey thousands of miles away to taste the presence of God, but it does require a separation from the mundane, an intentional choice to enter joy and follow God as he celebrates the glory of his creation and his faithfulness to keep his covenant to redeem the captives.

Who really knows, and who can swear, How creation came, when or where! Even gods came after creation’s day, Who really knows, who can truly say When and how did creation start? Did He do it? Or did He not? Only He, up there, knows, maybe; Or perhaps, not even He.

Who really knows, and who can swear, How creation came, when or where! Even gods came after creation’s day, Who really knows, who can truly say When and how did creation start? Did He do it? Or did He not? Only He, up there, knows, maybe; Or perhaps, not even He. — Rig Veda 10.129.1-7

Discover the Top Kannada Books: A Voyage Through Rich Heritage and Engaging Narratives In the lively realm of Indian literature, books occupy a unique space. Renowned for their compelling stories and the exploration of intricate themes, these works have significantly influenced the literary scene. For enthusiastic readers and those eager to deepen their appreciation of Karnataka’s culture, the best selling kannada books present a valuable collection just waiting to be explored. A remarkable feature of Kannada literature is its skillful integration of the cultural and traditional aspects of the Kannada-speaking community into captivating tales. Be it the challenges faced by ordinary individuals, the complexities of interpersonal relationships, or sweeping historical narratives, these stories resonate with readers on a profound level. One of the distinguished authors in this field, [Author Name], is celebrated for remarkable creations that merge fact with fiction. Their book, "[Book Title]," has not only reached the top of the popularity charts but has also ignited conversations surrounding [relevant theme or topic]. Readers are captivated by the rich character development and the genuine feel of the settings, making it an essential read for anyone delving into Kannada literature. Another popular title that has won over many is "[Second Book Title]" by [Author Name]. This gripping tale delves into [brief description of the book's plot or themes], immersing readers in a narrative that mirrors both the challenges and victories of its characters. The rich language and heartfelt dialogue have endeared it to many, securing its place in the literary landscape. For poetry enthusiasts, [Poet's Name]’s collection, "[Poetry Title]," is particularly noteworthy. This anthology pays homage to the subtleties of life and nature, utilizing striking imagery and deep emotional resonance. The poetic style captures the core of Kannada culture, with themes that range from love and grief to the beauty of local landscapes. Its lyrical charm and sincere expressions have made it a favorite among poetry aficionados. Non-fiction works in Kannada also receive considerable attention. "[Non-fiction Title]" by [Author Name] explores [topic of non-fiction], offering insights that are informative yet thought-provoking. It illustrates how literature can connect different generations, presenting knowledge in an engaging way. Additionally, books addressing social themes are gaining traction with readers. "[Social Issue Book Title]" confronts [description of the social issue], elevating awareness and encouraging reflection. Such works play a vital role in stimulating discussions around important issues while keeping readers engaged with fascinating stories. Currently, platforms like Veeraloka Books are crucial for showcasing these best-sellers, facilitating access for readers to discover and enjoy high-caliber Kannada literature. The ease of online ordering, complemented by reviews and recommendations, allows readers to find new authors and genres that they may not have encountered previously. The best selling kannada books serve not only as literary pieces but also as portals into the essence of Karnataka's culture and the human experience. As you delve into these titles, you will discover that each book offers a distinct perspective, touching upon personal experiences and societal reflections. Immerse yourself in the world of Kannada literature and see how these narratives continue to influence and inspire readers through the years. Whether you're a devoted fan or new to Kannada literature, a wealth of literary gems awaits your discovery. Happy reading!

and was in no sense a ransom paid to the Father to avert his wrath against us. For the earliest Christians, the story of salvation was entirely one of rescue, all the way through: the epic of God descending into the depths of human estrangement to release his creatures from bondage to death, penetrating even into the heart of hades to set the captives free and recall his prodigal children and restore a broken creation.