Greedy Family Quotes

Ever since the Christmas of '53, I have felt that the yuletide is a special hell for those families who have suffered any loss or who must admit to any imperfection; the so-called spirit of giving can be as greedy as receiving--Christmas is our time to be aware of what we lack, of who's not home.

THE UNFORGIVEN Tell me if you've ever had to deal with these kinds of people: The kind who take and don't give. The kind to whom you give and give, And they keep asking. The kind to whom you give and give and they say you gave nothing. The kind whom have never offered anything, But act like they're the ones providing EVERYTHING. The kind you give and give, But take more than you can give. And when they have already taken everything, They get mad at you when you say you have Nothing more to give. The unforgiving, The misgiving, Wastefully living - And selfishly driven. The rat that never gives back, Yet is so quick to attack - Because they think the word TAKING Seriously means GIVING.

As a matter of simple logic, there's no difference at all, that I can see, between the man who's greedy for material treasure —or even intellectual treasure — and the man who's greedy for spiritual treasure. As you say, treasure's treasure, God damn it, and it seems to me that ninety percent of all the world-hating saints in history were just as acquisitive and unattractive, basically, as the rest of us are.

On Generosity On our own, we conclude: there is not enough to go around we are going to run short of money of love of grades of publications of sex of beer of members of years of life we should seize the day seize our goods seize our neighbours goods because there is not enough to go around and in the midst of our perceived deficit you come you come giving bread in the wilderness you come giving children at the 11th hour you come giving homes to exiles you come giving futures to the shut down you come giving easter joy to the dead you come – fleshed in Jesus. and we watch while the blind receive their sight the lame walk the lepers are cleansed the deaf hear the dead are raised the poor dance and sing we watch and we take food we did not grow and life we did not invent and future that is gift and gift and gift and families and neighbours who sustain us when we did not deserve it. It dawns on us – late rather than soon- that you “give food in due season you open your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing.” By your giving, break our cycles of imagined scarcity override our presumed deficits quiet our anxieties of lack transform our perceptual field to see the abundance………mercy upon mercy blessing upon blessing. Sink your generosity deep into our lives that your muchness may expose our false lack that endlessly receiving we may endlessly give so that the world may be made Easter new, without greedy lack, but only wonder, without coercive need but only love, without destructive greed but only praise without aggression and invasiveness…. all things Easter new….. all around us, toward us and by us all things Easter new. Finish your creation, in wonder, love and praise. Amen.

It seems there is always a road with bends and forks to choose, and taking one path means you can never take another one. There's no starting over nor undoing the steps I've taken. It isn't like I'd want to not have my little ones and Jack and that ranch, it is part of life to have to support yourself. It's just that I want everything, my insides are not just hungry, but greedy. I want to find out all the things in the world and still have a family and a ranch. Maybe part of passing that test was a marker for where I've been, but it feels more like a pointer for something I'll never reach. (November 29, 1887 entry, pg 309)

Advertising executives must be wringing their greedy hands over the prospect, anxious for their next holiday campaign. Mom is helpless before them all. We’re not a family anymore. We’re a commodity in an Amazon database. Are we humans, or consumers?

Nations slaughter each other for family quarrels, cutting each other’s throats in the name of the Ruler of the Universe, knavish and greedy priests working on their imagination by means of their love of the marvellous and their fears.

The novelist Dumas would one day borrow features from both of his uncles, not to mention his grandfather, the acknowledged scoundrel, in fashioning the central villains of The Count of Monte Cristo. Reading court documents detailing the sordid unraveling of Charles's sham fortune, which would have devastating effects on his daughter and her unsuspecting husband, I couldn't help thinking that one of the interesting things about Dumas's villains is that, while greedy and unprincipled themselves, they produce children who can be innocent and decent. This was something that the writer understood very well from his own family.

I know the Press only too well. Almost all editors hide away in spider-dens, men without thought of Family or Public Interest or the humble delights of jaunts out-of-doors, plotting how they can put over their lies, and advance their own positions and fill their greedy pocketbooks by calumniating Statesmen who have given their all for the common good and who are vulnerable because they stand out in the fierce Light that beats around the Throne. Zero Hour, Berzelius Windrip.

The Shire at this time had hardly any ‘government’. Families for the most part managed their own affairs. Growing food and eating it occupied most of their time. In other matters they were, as a rule, generous and not greedy, but contented and moderate, so that estates, farms, workshops, and small trades tended to remain unchanged for generations.

Some people shy away from boldly claiming what they most wish for. Maybe they fear it'll make them look pushy. Or greedy. Or ungrateful for what they have. But when you keep your dreams hidden away, when you hide them under a sofa cushion, they never get the light they need to grow

Ever since the Christmas of ’53, I have felt that the yuletide is a special hell for those families who have suffered any loss or who must admit to any imperfection; the so-called spirit of giving can be as greedy as receiving—Christmas is our time to be aware of what we lack, of who’s not home.

The Realistic Vision recognizes the need for strict moral education through parents, family, friends, and community because people have a dual nature of being selfish and selfless, competitive and cooperative, greedy and generous, and so we need rules and guidelines and encouragement to do the right thing.

Anyway, most of the chapter is Bella telling us how much pain she's in. First she's about to die because delivering Optimus Beyonce nearly killed her. And then she goes on and on about how hot and awful the vampire venom feels as it takes hold of her body. She's in agony and there's nothing she can do about it. Good! I hope it hurts. This is what you get, Bella Swan. This is what you get for being a greedy, self-centered jerk. This is what happens to people who let thousands die in Italy. This is what you get for ruining Jacob's life and ignoring your human friends because you'd rather spend time with pretty people. This is what happens to selfish brats that have no regard for their family. This is what you get for being weak and dependent. This is what you get for lying to your father. This is what you get for crying and complaining about your perfect life. This is what you get for spending pages and pages describing freaking magnets! THIS IS WHAT YOU GET! I only wish the pain lasted longer than a chapter. An entire book of Bella's torture would be nice. And maybe if the book were illustrated…with Octo-Bears…I would finally sympathize with this, the least likable character in the history of novels. Bella, I do not care one tiny bit that you're in pain.

So the first biological lesson of history is that life is competition. Competition is not only the life of trade, it is the trade of life—peaceful when food abounds, violent when the mouths outrun the food. Animals eat one another without qualm; civilized men consume one another by due process of law. Co-operation is real, and increases with social development, but mostly because it is a tool and form of competition; we co-operate in our group—our family, community, club, church, party, “race,” or nation—in order to strengthen our group in its competition with other groups. Competing groups have the qualities of competing individuals: acquisitiveness, pugnacity, partisanship, pride. Our states, being ourselves multiplied, are what we are; they write our natures in bolder type, and do our good and evil on an elephantine scale. We are acquisitive, greedy, and pugnacious because our blood remembers millenniums through which our forebears had to chase and fight and kill in order to survive, and had to eat to their gastric capacity for fear they should not soon capture another feast. War is a nation’s way of eating. It promotes co-operation because it is the ultimate form of competition. Until our states become members of a large and effectively protective group they will continue to act like individuals and families in the hunting stage.

Remember, Little Ones, everything is not important all the time. Only living is important all the time. Not things. Not money. Not more things and more endless money. Spend well the quality of your time. And yes, be greedy with your hours. If only to then give those hours away as the most precious gifts you have to offer to yourself, your family, and your friends. And yes, to my Little Ones.” –From The Legacy Letters–“The Everything and Nothing of Money.

Russell’s lips were just framing an expression of disapproval when Grace stepped around Violet. His pupils expanded, making his dark eyes look even darker. There was something almost greedy in this look he bestowed on Grace. --Farewell My Life: Buona Notte Vita Mia

What did “good government” really mean? Langlie and his brotherhood promised an end to political corruption. (There’s no evidence that Langlie ever even took a drink, much less a bribe.) The days of “honest graft” were over, at least for a while. But seen from another perspective—that of ordinary citizens without access to Langlie and Abram’s elite network—Langlie didn’t so much end corruption as legalize it. Langlie wasn’t opposed to a government organized around the interests of the greedy; he just didn’t want to have to break the law to serve them.

There are three things I like about cannoli; they are a wonderfully greedy pleasure known the world over, their cameo appearance in The Godfather was made famous by Corleone family capo, “Fat Pete” Clemenza, and they don’t use their celebrity status to tell me how to live my life.

All these “ifs” fill our minds with anxious thoughts and make us wonder constantly what to do and what to say in case something should happen in the future. Much, if not most, of our suffering is connected with these preoccupations. Possible career changes, possible family conflicts, possible illnesses, possible disasters, and a possible nuclear holocaust make us anxious, fearful, suspicious, greedy, nervous, and morose. They prevent us from feeling a real inner freedom. Since we are always preparing for eventualities, we seldom fully trust the moment. It is no exaggeration to say that much human energy is invested in these fearful preoccupations.

You are all too rich to be happy, child. For must not each of you be the constitutions of your family marry to be still richer? People who know in what their main excellence consists are not to be blamed (are they?) for cultivating and improving what they think most valuable? Is true happiness any part of your family-view?—So far from it, that none of your family but yourself could be happy were they not rich. So let them fret on, grumble and grudge, and accumulate; and wondering what ails them that they have not happiness when they have riches, think the cause is want of more; and so go on heaping up till Death, as greedy an accumulator as themselves, gathers them into his garner!

It would have been good to be the girl who helped solved the Katharina Linden case, instead of the girl whose grandmother had exploded at the family Advent dinner. I wasn't greedy; it needn't have been Katharina's actual corpse that we found; a severed head - a finger - even a piece of her clothing would have been enough; the little red bow from her hair, perhaps.

Remember, Little Ones, everything is not important all the time. Only living is important all the time. Not things. Not money. Not more things and more endless money. Spend well the quality of your time. And yes, be greedy with your hours. If only to then give those hours away as the most precious gifts you have to offer to yourself, your family, and your friends.

It wouldn’t be Hogswatch when I was a kid without a pillowcase hanging by the fire—” “A pillowcase?” said the Senior Wrangler, sharply. “Well, you can’t get much in a stocking,” said the Dean. “Yes, but a whole pillowcase?” the Senior Wrangler insisted. “Yes. What of it?” “Is it just me, or is that a rather greedy and selfish way to behave? In my family we just hung up very small socks,

People who sacrifice their relationships, their families, and their health in pursuit of some ideal or dream are often useful to a community, but they are lopsided. The father who spends every waking hour with his research or his art or his reign may bless all the world, maybe, but he certainly brings untold misery to his spouse and his children—never asking if they wish to sacrifice their father for such long odds. He is a tyrant, a man collapsed into a single dimension, less a man than a beast, yet all too often, we praise him. We’re so greedy for what geniuses may give us, so selfish for our own gain that we call them unselfish. We speak of their sacrifice. Could we be more blind?

After all, a kiss between real lovers is not some type of contract, a neatly defined moment of pleasure, something obtained by greedy conquest, or any kind of clear saying of how it is. It is a grief-drenched hatching of two hearts into some ecstatic never-before-seen bird whose new uncategorizable form, unrecognized by the status quo, gives the slip to Death's sure rational deal. For love is a delicious and always messy extension of life that unfrantically outgrows mortality's rigid insistence on precise and efficient definition. Having all the answers means you haven't really ecstatically kissed or lived, thereby declaring the world defined and already finished. Loving all the questions on the other hand is a vitality that makes any length of life worth living. Loving doesn't mean you know all the notes and that you have to play all the notes, it just means you have to play the few notes you have long and beautifully. Like the sight of a truly beautiful young woman, smooth and gliding, melting hearts at even a distant glimpse, that no words, no matter how capable, can truly describe; a woman whose beauty is only really known by those who take a perch on the vista of time to watch the years of life speak out their long ornate sentences of grooves as they slowly stretch into her smoothness, wrinkling her as she glides struggling, decade by decade, her gait mitigated by a long trail of heavy loads, joys, losses, and suffering whose joint-aching years of traveling into a mastery of her own artistry of living, becomes even more than beauty something about which though we are even now no more capable of addressing than before, our admiration as original Earth-loving human beings should nonetheless never remain silent. And for that beauty we should never sing about, but only sing directly to it. Straightforward, cold, and inornate description in the presence of such living evidence of the flowering speech of the Holy in the Seed would be death of both the beauty and the speaker. Even if we always fail when we speak, we must be willing to fail magnificently, for even an eloquent failure, if in the service of life, feeds the Divine. Is it not a magical thing, this life, when just a little ash, cinder, and unclear water can arrange themselves into a beautiful old woman who sways, lifts, kisses, loves, sickens, argues, loses, bears up under it all, and, wrinkling, still lives under all that and yet feeds the Holy in Nature by just the way she moves barefoot down a path? If we can find the hearts, tongues, and brightness of our original souls, broken or not, then no matter from what mess we might have sprung today, we would be like those old-time speakers of life; every one of us would have it in our nature to feel obligated by such true living beauty as to know we have to say something in its presence if only for our utter feeling of awe. For, finally learning to approach something respectfully with love, slowly with the courtesy of an ornate indirectness, not describing what we see but praising the magnificence of her half-smiles of grief and persistent radiance rolling up from the weight-bearing thumping of her fine, well-oiled dusty old feet shuffling toward the dawn reeds at the edge of her part of the lake to fetch a head-balanced little clay jar of water to cook the family breakfast, we would know why the powerful Father Sun himself hurries to get his daily glimpse of her, only rising early because she does.

Perhaps Bufalino’s closest friend was Philadelphia crime boss Angelo Bruno. Law enforcement referred to Bufalino as “the quiet Don Rosario”; Bruno was known as the “Docile Don” for his similar low-key approach to heading a major crime family. Like Bufalino’s family, the Bruno crime family was not permitted to deal in drugs. Because of his perceived old-fashioned ways Bruno was killed by greedy underlings in 1980. Bruno’s demise would lead to everlasting anarchy in his family. His successor, Philip “Chicken Man” Testa, was literally blown up a year after taking over. Testa’s successor, Nicodemus “Little Nicky” Scarfo, is now serving multiple life sentences for murder, having been betrayed by his own underboss and nephew. Little Nicky’s successor, John Stanfa, is serving five consecutive life sentences for murder. Frank Sheeran got a Christmas card every year from John Stanfa in his Leavenworth cell. John Stanfa’s successor, Ralph Natale, is the first boss to turn government informant and testify against his own men. Frank Sheeran calls Philadelphia “the city of rats.” On the other hand, Russell Bufalino lived a long life. He died of old age in a nursing home in 1994 at the age of ninety. He controlled his “family” until the day he died, and unlike Angelo Bruno’s Philadelphia family, not a sign of discord has been reported in the Bufalino family since his death. Frank

My father was exceptionally tall and exceptionally handsome, and he only had to walk into a room to dominate the assembly of people. He revelled in the latest fashions and the most beautiful rich cloths and color. He was infallibly attractive to women, unable to help himself, greedy for their attention; and God knows they could not restrain their desires. A room full of women was always half in love with my father, and their husbands torn between admiration and envy. Best of all, he had my exceptionally beautiful mother always at his side and a quiverful of exquisite daughters trailing behind him. We were always a stained-glass window in motion, an icon of beauty and grace. My Lady the King’s Mother knows that we were a royal family beyond compare: regal, fruitful, beautiful, rich. She was at our court as a lady-in-waiting and she saw for herself how the country saw us, as fairy-tale monarchs. She is driving herself quite mad trying to make her awkward, paler, quieter son match up. She

Choosing any particular lifestyle is disquieting. Decision-making requires giving up something and believing in something. I abhor making choices because I am greedy and insincere. I might create a stronger sense of self if I made conscious choices, by selecting what truly matters in my life, by dedicating my very being to a central precept. I remain unengaged with any stabilizing concepts and my self is in a constant state of changing. I spend time composing a self, only to turn about and destroy my unsatisfactory self, resulting in a continual state of making and revamping my sense of self. Just when family members and friends think they know who I am, I drastically change. People cannot love or even profess affection for a flaky person such as me, a Proteus-like elusive sea creature that is in a constant state of metamorphosis, a person they cannot pin down or pigeonhole as a specific type of person. My staunch refusal to commit to any permanent membrane ensures that I will always remain unknown and therefore unloved and unlovable.

may sound strange to American readers that by “eating their own lambs” the Heddles were breaking the law. The fact is that during the war, and for several years after, the people of Britain were strictly rationed. Each person was provided with a book containing coupons for food and clothing. Rationed food included meat, eggs, bacon, cheese, sugar, tea, butter, and fats, etc., etc. The coupons were given up every week for the food. In this way everyone was able to obtain a fair share of the very limited supply of necessary food. Greedy people who had no conscience and plenty of money were able to obtain extra food “under the counter” but the law was strictly enforced. Even farmers were not allowed to kill and eat their own animals, so by killing and eating their lambs the Heddles were liable to severe penalties. The rations allowed by law were very frugal and everybody lost weight but it did us no harm and we were doing it as part of the war effort so nobody grumbled. Many factories in Britain were requisitioned to make precision instruments and other articles which were needed for the war so it soon became impossible to buy clocks and kettles and pots and pans and hairpins. D.

In 1848, Alexis de Toqueville attempted to describe the origins of this regional imperialism: Those Americans who go out far away from the Atlantic Ocean, plunging into the West, are adventurers impatient of any sort of yoke, greedy for wealth, and often outcasts from the states in which they were born. They arrive in the depths of the wilderness without knowing one another. There is nothing of tradition, family feeling, or example to restrain them, laws have little sway over them, and mores still less. Therefore, the men who are continually pouring in to increase the population of the Mississippi Valley are in every respect inferior to the Americans living within the former limits of the Union. Nevertheless, they already have great influence over its counsels, and they are taking their place in the government of public affairs before they have learned to rule themselves … [When a state has a population of 2 million and is one quarter the size of France] it feels itself strong, and if it continues to want union as something useful to its well-being, it no longer regards it as necessary to its existence, it can do without it, and although consenting to remain united, it soon wants to be preponderant.

Businesses call this “profit.” Marx called it “surplus value.” For Marx, the crucial question is: Who gets this surplus value? Who is entitled to the profit that businesses accumulate? Marx insisted that this profit belongs wholly to the workers. They earned it, so they deserve to share it. In reality, however, the entrepreneur or the capitalist gets it. If he has investors, they too share it. Marx regarded this as the most scandalous form of exploitation. He insisted that workers spend only part of their day working to benefit themselves; the rest of the time they spend working to benefit the capitalists. Basically the capitalists are stealing from the workers. Yet Marx recognized that this was the essence of capitalism. Only a workers’ revolution, Marx believed, would end this unjust arrangement. Notice that Marx isn’t condemning the capitalist for taking “excessive” profits; he is condemning the capitalist for taking any profits. Marx, I want to emphasize, was not a progressive con man. He passionately believed that capitalists were greedy, corrupt exploiters. The reason he felt that way was that he was a complete ignoramus about business. He simply had no idea how businesses actually operate. Marx never ran a business. He never even balanced his checkbook. He was a lifelong leech. He had all his expenses paid for by his partner, Friedrich Engels, who inherited his father’s textile companies. Progressives like to portray Engels as a businessman but in fact he too didn’t actually operate the family business. He had people to do that for him. Freed from the need to work, Engels was a man of leisure and a part-time intellectual. Ironically Marx and Engels were both dependent on the very capitalism they scorned.

Palo Mayombe is perhaps best known for its display of human skulls in iron cauldrons and accompanied by necromantic practices that contribute to its eerie reputation of being a cult of antinomian and hateful sorcerers. This murky reputation is from time to time reinforced by uninformed journalists and moviemakers who present Palo Mayombe in similar ways as Vodou has been presented through the glamour and horror of Hollywood. It is the age old fear of the unknown and of powers that threaten the established order that are spawned from the umbra of Palo Mayombe. The cult is marked by ambivalence replicating an intense spectre of tension between all possible contrasts, both spiritual and social. This is evident both in the history of Kongo inspired sorcery and practices as well as the tension between present day practitioners and the spiritual conclaves of the cult. Palo Mayombe can be seen either as a religion in its own right or a Kongo inspired cult. This distinction perhaps depends on the nature of ones munanso (temple) and rama (lineage). Personally, I see Palo Mayombe as a religious cult of Creole Sorcery developed in Cuba. The Kongolese heritage derives from several different and distinct regions in West Africa that over time saw a metamorphosis of land, cultures and religions giving Palo Mayombe a unique expression in its variety, but without losing its distinct nucleus. In the history of Palo Mayombe we find elite families of Kongolese aristocracy that contributed to shaping African history and myth, conflicts between the Kongolese and explorers, with the Trans-Atlantic slave trade being the blood red thread in its development. The name Palo Mayombe is a reference to the forest and nature of the Mayombe district in the upper parts of the deltas of the Kongo River, what used to be the Kingdom of Loango. For the European merchants, whether sent by the Church to convert the people or by a king greedy for land and natural resources, everything south of present day Nigeria to the beginning of the Kalahari was simply Kongo. This un-nuanced perception was caused by the linguistic similarities and of course the prejudice towards these ‘savages’ and their ‘primitive’ cultures. To write a book about Palo Mayombe is a delicate endeavor as such a presentation must be sensitive both to the social as well as the emotional memory inherited by the religion. I also consider it important to be true to the fundamental metaphysical principles of the faith if a truthful presentation of the nature of Palo Mayombe is to be given. The few attempts at presenting Palo Mayombe outside ethnographic and anthropological dissertations have not been very successful. They have been rather fragmented attempts demonstrating a lack of sensitivity not only towards the cult itself, but also its roots. Consequently a poor understanding of Palo Mayombe has been offered, often borrowing ideas and concepts from Santeria and Lucumi to explain what is a quite different spirituality. I am of the opinion that Palo Mayombe should not be explained on the basis of the theological principles of Santeria. Santeria is Yoruba inspired and not Kongo inspired and thus one will often risk imposing concepts on Palo Mayombe that distort a truthful understanding of the cult. To get down to the marrow; Santeria is a Christianized form of a Yoruba inspired faith – something that should make the great differences between Santeria and Palo Mayombe plain. Instead, Santeria is read into Palo Mayombe and the cult ends up being presented at best in a distorted form. I will accordingly refrain from this form of syncretism and rather present Palo Mayombe as a Kongo inspired cult of Creole Sorcery that is quite capable

I have been in many dugouts, Ludwig,” he goes on. “And we were all young men who sat there around one miserable slush lamp, waiting, while the barrage raged overhead like an earthquake. We were none of your inexperienced recruits, either; we knew well enough what we were waiting for and we knew what would come. —But there was more in those faces down in the gloom there than mere calm, more than good humour, more than just readiness to die. There was the will to another future in those hard, set faces; and it was there when they charged, and still there when they died. —We had less to say for ourselves year by year, we shed many things, but that one thing still remained. And now, Ludwig, where is it now? Can’t you see how it is perishing in all this pig’s wash of order, duty, women, routine, punctuality and the rest of it that here they call life? —No, Ludwig, we lived then! And you tell me a thousand times that you hate war, yet I still say, we lived then. We lived, because we were together, and because something burned in us that was more than this whole muck heap here!” He is breathing hard. “It must have been for something, Ludwig! When I first heard there was revolution, for one brief moment I thought: Now the time will be redeemed—now the flood will pour back, tearing down the old things, digging new banks for itself—and, by God, I would have been in it! But the flood broke up into a thousand runnels; the revolution became a mere scramble for jobs, for big jobs and little jobs. It has trickled away, it has been dammed up, it has been drained off into business, into family, and party. —But that will not do me. I’m going where comradeship is still to be found.” Ludwig stands up. His brow is flaming, his eyes blaze. He looks Rahe in the face. “And why is it, Georg? Why is it? Because we were duped, I tell you, duped as even yet we hardly realize; because we were misused, hideously misused. They told us it was for the Fatherland, and meant the schemes of annexation of a greedy industry. —They told us it was for Honour, and meant the quarrels and the will to power of a handful of ambitious diplomats and princes. —They told us it was for the Nation, and meant the need for activity on the part of out-of-work generals!” He takes Rahe by the shoulders and shakes him. “Can’t you see? They stuffed out the word Patriotism with all the twaddle of their fine phrases, with their desire for glory, their will to power, their false romanticism, their stupidity, their greed of business, and then paraded it before us as a shining ideal! And we thought they were sounding a bugle summoning us to a new, a more strenuous, a larger life. Can’t you see, man? But we were making war against ourselves without knowing it! Every shot that struck home, struck one of us! Can’t you see? Then listen and I will bawl it into your ears. The youth of the world rose up in every land, believing that it was fighting for freedom! And in every land they were duped and misused; in every land they have been shot down, they have exterminated each other! Don’t you see now? —There is only one fight, the fight against the lie, the half-truth, compromise, against the old order. But we let ourselves be taken in by their phrases; and instead of fighting against them, we fought for them. We thought it was for the Future. It was against the Future. Our future is dead; for the youth is dead that carried it. We are merely the survivors, the ruins. But the other is alive still—the fat, the full, the well content, that lives on, fatter and fuller, more contented than ever! And why? Because the dissatisfied, the eager, the storm troops have died for it. But think of it! A generation annihilated! A generation of hope, of faith, of will, strength, ability, so hypnotised that they have shot down one another, though over the whole world they all had the same purpose!” His

Their Graces bought me, you know. They’d acquired my brother Devlin the year before, and my mother, inspired by this development, threatened to publish all manner of lurid memoirs regarding His Grace.” Acquired her brother? As if he were a promising yearling colt or an attractive patch of ground? “You are going to burden me with the details of your family past, I take it?” “You are the man who glories in details.” Without the least rude inflection, she made it sound like a failing. “My point is that my mother sold me. She could just as easily have sold me to a brothel. It’s done all the time. Unlike your sisters, Mr. Hazlit, I do not take for granted the propriety with which I was raised. You may ignore it if you please; I will not.” She had such a lovely voice. Light, soft, lilting with a hint of something Gaelic or Celtic… exotic. The sound of her voice was so pretty, it almost disguised the ugliness of her words. “How old were you?” “Five, possibly six. It depends on whether I am truly Moreland’s by-blow or just a result of my mother’s schemes in his direction.” Six years old and sold to a brothel? The food he’d eaten threatened to rebel. “I’m… sorry.” For calling her a dollymop, for making her repeat this miserable tale, for what he was about to suggest. She turned her head to regard him, the slight sheen in her eyes making him sorrier still. Sorrier than he could recall being about anything in a long, long time. Not just guilty and ashamed, but full of regret—for her. The way he’d been full of regret for his sisters and powerless to do anything but support them in their solitary struggles. He shoved that thought aside, along with the odd notion that he should take Magdalene Windham’s hand in some laughable gesture of comfort. He passed her his handkerchief instead. “This makes the stated purpose of my call somewhat awkward.” “It makes just about everything somewhat awkward,” she said quietly. “Try a few years at finishing school when you’re the daughter of not just a courtesan—there are some of those, after all—but a courtesan who sells her offspring. I realized fairly early that my mother’s great failing was not a lack of virtue, but rather that she was greedy in her fall from grace.” “She exploited a child,” Hazlit said. “That is an order of magnitude different from parlaying with an adult male in a transaction of mutual benefit.” “Do you think so?” She laid his handkerchief out in her lap, her fingers running over his monogrammed initials. “Some might say she was protecting me, providing for me and holding the duke accountable for his youthful indiscretions.” Despite her mild tone, Hazlit didn’t think Miss Windham would reach those conclusions. She might long to, but she wouldn’t. By the age of six a child usually had the measure of her caretakers. And to think of Maggie Windham at six… big innocent green eyes, masses of red hair, perfect skin… in a brothel. “I

The house squatted around them, vast, empty, unnecessary and indestructible. You had to be a fat busy Victorian family to expand enough to fill up basements and passages and conservatives and attics. You had to have an army of bootboys and nurses and parlourmaids. You had to have a complicated greedy system of living that used up plenty of space and people and just in the daily business of eating and sleeping and keeping clean. You had to multiply your requirements and your possessions, activate that panel of bells in the kitchen - Drawing-Room and Master Bedroom and Library - keep going a spiral of needs and people to satisfy the needs. if you did not, if you contracted into three people without such needs, then a house like this became a dinosaur, occupying too much air and ground and demanding to be fed new sinks and drainpipes and a sea of electricity. Such a house became a fossil, stranded among neighbours long since chopped up into flats and bed-sitting-rooms, or sleek modern houses that had a suitable number of rooms for correct living in the late twentieth century. It and its kind, stood awkwardly on the fringes of a city renowned for old and beautiful buildings: they were old, and unbeautiful.

Givers are never greedy, The Greedy never give.

Love thy god and family, distrust politicians and use every minute of your time to progress towards your goals and you just might survive our twisted, cheating and greedy human world.

Commercial farming makes up only twenty-eight percent of this country’s land. But there’s a black farmers’ union that represent six percent of that. The Development Trust, which is government, has three percent. There are black tenant farmers with four percent. And Forestry has one percent. That leaves whites with about fourteen percent of the country’s land. Doesn’t sound the same as seventy percent, does it? And that fourteen percent produced about sixty-five percent of all agricultural produce and fifty percent of foreign earnings, and employed or supported almost two million people. But all you ever heard about was us greedy white farmers.” Everyone

Notice that Marx isn’t condemning the capitalist for taking “excessive” profits; he is condemning the capitalist for taking any profits. Marx, I want to emphasize, was not a progressive con man. He passionately believed that capitalists were greedy, corrupt exploiters. The reason he felt that way was that he was a complete ignoramus about business. He simply had no idea how businesses actually operate. Marx never ran a business. He never even balanced his checkbook. He was a lifelong leech. He had all his expenses paid for by his partner, Friedrich Engels, who inherited his father’s textile companies. Progressives like to portray Engels as a businessman but in fact he too didn’t actually operate the family business. He had people to do that for him. Freed from the need to work, Engels was a man of leisure and a part-time intellectual. Ironically Marx and Engels were both dependent on the very capitalism they scorned.

Victorious, the greedy Japanese took over the city, froze my bank account, and confiscated my family’s fortune

Organizations wisely expect their leaders to be men and women of character. They intuitively understand that people won’t follow leaders they don’t respect and trust. In the Scripture, the Lord gives clear qualifications for leading others in the church. The overseer must be above reproach, gentle and hospitable, not greedy, lead his family well, and have a good reputation with outsiders.1 If there are clearly defined qualifications for leading, then one can be disqualified from leading others.2

Mobile apps and phone games are fast becoming known as the, SSS, of life. Sex! Sales! Slavery! They don't care about the impact of their apps or games. They just care about their bottom lines. Users are bombarded with sexy and scantily clad characters on an hourly basis. In game or app costs are going through the roof and are also hard to stop unless you pay money. (another form of blackmail) Slavery becomes people, both young and old, are becoming entrapped by the apps and games. It becomes an addiction and a way of life just like drugs and alcohol. As long as they can rake in millions of profit, these people do not care about you, your family or the people that they ensnare. They only care about the money. Their food for a greedy lifestyle.

Which they never faced and the people were given duties to protect the only planet as far as now were given money, love, and everything they needed. Ultimate creator who is actual god said to these protection people that remember one thing universe created all, that is it, visitors are from another planet and these dark people are actual owners of this planet and as universe is one, this people should not affected at all, then adam tale and No - One god was born, and those people were secret enough to cover their faces but it is not necessary at all because they don't have secrets to protect. And then history happened, wars for money, rule, slavery everything happened and as these things were going completely inhuman, man made law was to be produced. Then boundaries segragated born countries. But before these visitors visited this planet, whatever was in this planet was very beautiful and these dark people moved across continents as continents shifted by natural process and whatever they were doing before these visitors was completely natural just like animals mating on outdoors, deer runs before tiger, kill or getting killed ecology and evolution. But after these visitors these dark people learned how to do things properly with proper knowledge but because high attitude and enslaving nature of these visitors, these people went against it and again wars, instability and all. the protection people always remembered three things law, business, love and family. The god was to come to find out the truth but when he came, everything was almost settled. And god has decided not to end here for recreation and it is not needed as far as now, but he decided to go after who were sent by visitors (i.e - Visitors from another planet that came to this planet as greedy nature), because god once gave a word to these visitors when they were in their planet that, i have to go after your clan that been sent to search other possible creations beyond my limits and is there another god or creator or universe. But these visitors said whomever been sent were never returned but god told them I will go after them by any means and wherever you will establish, stablish peace. That's all

The individual selectionists who dominate today’s neo-Darwinism believe that humans and animals are driven by the voracity of genes. A gene sufficiently greedy to guarantee that many copies of itself make it into the next generation will rapidly expand its family tree. Genes which program for self-denial and give up what they have to help out strangers may fail to breed entirely. Their number will shrink decade after decade until the unselfish utterly fade away. Those who survive will be cynics preprogrammed by natural selection to commit an act of generosity only if their donations pay off in hordes of progeny.

We can advocate for our families, or in the service of a cause or campaign, but if we’re simply asking for more money on our own behalf and because we have the temerity to believe we deserve it, we are liable to be called greedy.

So greedy. From pillow princess to bossy bottom. I approve. Why don’t you just sit on my face, Freckles, then you can just do all the work yourself.

A family man shouldn't trade his peace for profits, it is the job of a businessman.

Self-discipline means becoming a student on your own initiative. I challenge you to continually learn about what you do, what you eat, and how you think as it relates to avoiding disease and developing optimal health. If the consumer does not develop self-discipline, then he or she is at the mercy of a greedy supplier and the incorrect information that abounds in the environment. … But you don’t have to be. Exercise self-discipline, and foster it in your family. Learn what to do for optimal health, and do it!

When we allow material things to be more important than spiritual things, we lost a lot of very important ways in life, many fear dying and are so concerned about what they do if someone stole all their position, did we not come into this world naked? can we take all our riches with us when we pass? is success what really makes a man or women hear? can we actually buy real love? the twisted ways of thinking come from greedy people, a person who work hard should be paid more than one who work less but that's not the case here, it is all backwards this is what a man has brought forth because of the attitude that being certainly religion or family tree entitles them to it what they really forget is what we are from the same family

Needless to say, Lot kept his faith to himself. He told no one of his family background, for fear of them discovering his religion. He never told anyone who he really was. He also saw that the society that touted itself as the “Cities of Love” was actually quite inhospitable to strangers and visitors. Traveling merchants who came to sell their wares in the cities were usually beat up and run out of town, because they were considered greedy. In reality, it was because their prices were so cheap. But the local workers maintained a greedy control over the marketplace. The city took so much of the workers’ income, they barely had enough to live on. So, they did not want anyone else to have what they could not.

turned the majority of their kingdom — the peasants, workers, and slaves — against the wealthy members of society. They encouraged hatred of the rich for their ostentatious conspicuous consumption —all the rich, that is, except for the royal family, whose wealth was needed to rule beneficently. Then they confiscated most of the wealth of these “greedy” rich through excessive taxation, in the name of spreading the wealth around, so that “all would be equal.” But the rich were ruined and could no longer afford to employ the poor commoners in their fields and storehouses. The government then had to confiscate the means of production and place all citizens in their care as wards of the state. So commoners ended up not much different than slaves. They depended upon the government for their daily bread, their shelter, and even their health. The daily survival of the citizens was completely in the hands of Semiramis and Mardon.

They’ve gone, love. Stay a moment more. There’s nothing to be gained by haste at this point, and we need to sort this out before we face your family.” Love? Now he called her love? “Let me go. I can’t breathe…” She tried to wrestle free, but he had his hand on the back of her head, his arm around her back. Out in the hallway, the front door didn’t close; it banged shut with the impact of a rifle shot ricocheting through the house… and through the rest of Eve’s blighted, miserable life. “Mama slammed that door, Lucas Denning. Her Grace, the Duchess of Moreland, slammed a door, because of me, because of my stupid, selfish, useless, greedy, stupid, asinine…” There were not words to describe the depth of the betrayal she’d just handed her family. She collapsed against Deene’s chest, misery a dry, scraping ache in her throat. “Eve, many couples anticipate their vows, even a few couples closely associated with the Duchess of Moreland.” The reason in his voice had her hands balling to fists. “I will not marry you.” She could not, not him of all men. That signal fact gave her scattering wits a rallying point. Deene did not argue. When an argument was imperative, he did not argue. His hand stroked slowly over her hair, and as the fighting instinct coursing through Eve’s body struggled to stand against a swamping despair, some part of Eve’s brain made a curious observation: Deene was breathing in a slow, unhurried rhythm, and as a function of the intimacy of their posture, Eve was breathing in counterpoint to him. The same easy, almost restful tempo, but her exhale matched his inhale. “We cannot marry, Deene. I won’t have it. A white marriage was as far as I was willing to go, and then only to the right sort of man, a man who would never seek to… impose conjugal duties on me.” His arms fell away, when Eve would very much have liked them to stay around her. Better he not see her face, better she not have to see his lovely blue eyes going chill and distant. “We need to set you to rights.” His hands on her shirt were deft and impersonal, his fingers barely touching her skin. The detachment in his touch was probably meant to be a kindness, but it… hurt. “Lucas, I cannot think.” “We’ll think this through together. I can guarantee you not a soul will be coming through that door until we decide to pass through it ourselves.” “I hate that you can be so calm.” And—worst

It is not the love of money that is evil—it is the lack of money that causes evil. It is working at a job we hate that is evil. Working hard yet not earning enough to provide for our families is evil. For some, being deeply in debt is evil. Fighting with people you love over money is evil. Being greedy is evil. Committing criminal or immoral acts to get money is evil. Money by itself is not evil. Money is just money.

Polly's embarrassment revealed her regret that she should have given in to the age-old temptation of saying something disagreeable even to her oldest and most useful friend. But she had committed herself now. "I relate it," she replied in a bolder tone, "to my apprehension that you are using your perfectly proper wish to do great and noble things with Eric's money to disguise your equally natural desire to keep it out of the greedy hands of his family.

It’s almost Thanksgiving,” she said. “You’re sure you want to stay here?” He shrugged. “Mel and Jack can’t leave—she has babies coming. Preacher and Paige are here—that’s family. If you want to go to Sam’s, I’ll do that with you. But I don’t want to go to L.A. yet.” “You aren’t keeping me a secret from the Valenzuelas, are you?” “God, no, I’ve told them all, every one of them. I even told them to look out—you’re bilingual and tricky. But I’m not ready to share you. In my mother’s Catholic household, it would be separate bedrooms because we’re not married. Even though I’m thirty-seven and she knows we’re living together—it’s her Catholic home. We could stay in a hotel, but I think we’ll visit later. Just give me a little more time. I’ve never been this happy in my life and all day long I look forward to when we’re finally alone together.” He played with the hair that fell to her shoulder. “I’m greedy. This is the best my life has ever been.” “What about Christmas?” she asked him. “What about it?” “Will your family be upset it we go to Dad’s for Christmas? Because my whole family plus Mel’s sister, brother-in-law and the kids will be there—and I want to be with them.” “Then that’s where we’ll be. We can join the Valenzuelas another time. You have to remember, mija—my family is so large that my parents don’t expect to have all the kids together with their own families every year. We’ll do Christmas with them another year.” Thanksgiving

Don’t you just look perfect with a baby.” My head turned to look at Kash’s grandma who had just sat down on my left. She was a short woman that, from my limited interaction with her, looked like she lived to feed her family and give hugs. She was absolutely adorable. My eyes automatically dropped to the sleeping baby, and I gave her a small smile as I laughed awkwardly. “Um . . .” How do you respond to that? “That was a compliment, dear. You look very comfortable like that, like you were made to hold a baby.” “Oh, well thank you.” That so didn’t sound like a compliment. It felt like it should be followed up with Kash telling me I should be barefoot in the kitchen. “So beautiful,” she murmured as she touched my engagement ring and looked happily back up at me. “Do you plan to give me more great-grandchildren soon? I’ll be here for only so long . . .” she trailed off and laughed heartily. “I don’t know about that, we haven’t really talked about it. We’re still young,” I cut off quickly when I realized Ava was barely older than me and already had two kids. But for shit’s sake I had barely turned twenty-two a couple months ago. I was still getting used to taking care of Trip, I didn’t even want to think about having a baby. “Of course you are, darling girl! You have all the time in the world. This is just an old woman greedy for more babies to spoil rotten. Though I’m sure with you and Logan being the only children in your families, both of your parents will be spoiling your children senseless.” My stomach dropped and I kept the smile plastered to my face. “Yeah, probably,” I murmured. A

Though there were so many unusual creatures on the Island, the royal family was entirely human and always had been. They were royal in the proper sense – not greedy, not covered in jewels, but brave and fair. They saw themselves as servants of the people which is how all good rulers should think of themselves, but often don’t.

By putting our focus on giving to others and meeting their very real needs, we can battle the greed in our hearts. Christmas is a season not of getting, but of giving, because at Christmas we are celebrating that God is the most generous and outrageous Giver in the universe. After all, he gave us his Son. Proverbs says, “Some people are always greedy for more, but the godly love to give!” (Proverbs 21:26). To pour ourselves into becoming outrageous givers is to pursue becoming more like God. God turns greedy, grasping, fearful hoarders into generous, honest, cheerful givers.

All of us, every day, inherit problems we didn't create. Motherfuckers get greedy with oil, and everything we buy gets a lot more expensive. Motherfuckers get uppity in another country, and we and our friends and family are expected to leave home to fight and die. Motherfuckers make management mistakes in distant offices, and the house of cards collapses, leaving everyone to scramble to make a living and feed our families. Motherfuckers botch a drilling operation in the ocean and fuck up the environment for the rest of us. Motherfuckers go crazy and shoot up a McDonald's, or a bank, or a school. Motherfuckers do dumb shit, and we have to deal with it.

The phenomenon seems too diverse, with too many variables (personality, family background, culture, education) to come together in one coherent picture of what makes an effective leader. There are so many flavours of figureheads: autocrats, tyrants, warlords, democrats and kings (and, rarely, queens). There are benevolent leaders and greedy leaders, reluctant leaders who have greatness thrust upon them and others who feel compelled to thrust their own, self-perceived greatness on others. We have charming leaders and Machiavellian leaders (often, the former turn out to be the latter, and it can be most disconcerting when the truth oozes out).

........................................To a man without a country, He appeared a joint sojourner. To Joshua armed but afraid, He came a valiant warrior. To Moses raised up on the mount, He was the One yet higher. To Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, He was the fourth man in the fire. To Elijah who stood as one for God, he was never less alone. For Noah's faithful family, He made an ark their home. To Ezekiel He appeared to be the light cast over the dark. To King David running from the throne, He was the true Monarch. To Daniel at the bite of death, He was the lock upon their jaws. To King Solomon who'd had it all, He was the only worthy cause. To a sinking fisherman, He was life upon the water. To a grieving Jairus, He was life unto his daughter. To a woman at the well, He was complete acceptance. To a doubting Thomas, He was the proof for his reluctance. To a dozen throwbacks from the world, He unleashed His awesome power. From a greedy grave of several days burst forth his finest hour. ........................................

To a man without a country, He appeared a joint sojourner. To Joshua armed but afraid, He came a valiant warrior. To Moses raised up on the mount, He was the One yet higher. To Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, He was the fourth man in the fire. To Elijah who stood as one for God, he was never less alone. For Noah's faithful family, He made an ark their home. To Ezekiel He appeared to be the light cast over the dark. To King David running from the throne, He was the true Monarch. To Daniel at the bite of death, He was the lock upon their jaws. To King Solomon who'd had it all, He was the only worthy cause. To a sinking fisherman, He was life upon the water. To a grieving Jairus, He was life unto his daughter. To a woman at the well, He was complete acceptance. To a doubting Thomas, He was the proof for his reluctance. To a dozen throwbacks from the world, He unleashed His awesome power. From a greedy grave of several days burst forth his finest hour." ~Things pondered

But if you’d waited before buying an annuity and suddenly go to that great spaceship in the sky before handing over your cash, then your family or friends or your dog will get your money - rather them than some greedy

I have seen people who value wealth more than their family, Wealth can be replaced but the family can't.

Kordas reflected that in the eyes of some, these would be halcyon days indeed. Imagine having no poor! Even in the Duchy, there had been poor. I’ll enjoy this while it lasts. Because people would always be greedy, the strong would always take from the weak, and there was only so much even a King could do about that. Only a fool would think otherwise. All I can do is my best. And that goes for Restil; at least we’ve brought him up well. But when the rot set in, as it inevitably would, would it penetrate as far as the now—royal family?

For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. And having food and clothing, with these we shall be content. But those who desire to be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and harmful lusts which drown men in destruction and perdition. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, for which some have strayed from the faith in their greediness, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows. - 1 Timothy 6:7-10

Their father, seated near one end of the long table, smiles broadly. "Pass the vinegar, please!" His voice is so deep and loud that everyone turns to watch him. Holding a steaming dumpling in a large porcelain spoon, he drips a bit of sooty vinegar on top, greedy and focused. He picks up a sliver of ginger, using his chopsticks with the precision of a surgeon, and places it over the dumpling's puckered nipple. He raises the spoon to his mouth and takes a bite. "Hmm. It's good," he announces. "But I like my dumplings made with pork. Hot meat juice gushing into my mouth at the first bite. Hot, greasy, delicious pork juice!" Dagou's chest swells. "You know they're vegetarians here." "You prefer plain dumplings?" their father shoots back. Dagou doesn't answer. He and their father favor meat in all of their food. "I have nothing against 'plain food,'" their father says, addressing the community at large. "Winnie says it's sinful to eat living creatures, it amounts to killing, it's an act of violence, especially because the choice is an act of will, because we can decline to eat meat, because it's okay----and maybe even healthier, Winnie says----to eat only vegetables. She says people who stop eating meat have a long life, and people who eat only vegetables have the longest life. Yeah, yeah. But, Your Elderliness"----he nods at Gu Ling Zhu Chi----"I, Leo Chao, would rather be dead than stop eating pig. I will be ash and bone chunks in a little urn before I don't eat juicy pig.

If one political party or a family keeps on ruling a nation for decades continuously, it simply means – the ruler is corrupt at its core and the subjects are born with a slave-mentality and greed syndrome.

Yes, he was wonderful and noble and charismatic—but he was also thoughtless and greedy and unfeeling.

At least I have Molly. That’s what I’ve always tried to tell myself. It feels greedy to want more when I have her. She has been the biggest joy in my life. And I guess when I started to realise that the big family I’d imagined might never exist I just tried to love her as much as four children.

Many people are mad at the escapades of billionaires in space, but the fact of the matter is, had they been invited to go with the billionaires themselves, most of them would be thrilled to their bones, for they are not really mad at the billionaires, they are mad because they can't afford such fancy travel. You see, they are the same people who save up their hard-earned money so they could have a relaxing or thrilling vacation somewhere, even though their version of vacation turns bleak in front of the glorious space vacations of the super-rich. So to those who pompously ask the question, "should people travel to space for fun", I ask, “should you have a vacation on an island for fun - should you have dinner at a fancy restaurant for fun – when countless souls are suffering from the lack of the very essentials of life?” It's all about status. A billionaire's idea of vacation is in space, whereas a regular person's idea of a vacation is on some island or in another continent. And if the billionaires are abusing resources for personal enjoyment, so are these regular people. You have no right to demand moral accountability from billionaires, if you yourself don't mind engaging in your everyday luxuries – for your luxuries may seem dim compared to those of the super-rich, but still the resources you spend on them could feed and clothe at least ten families in developing parts of the world for a year. The very existence of billionaires is a sign of economic disparities, but they are not the sole cause of those disparities. Every individual engaging in luxury beyond necessity is as much responsible for the economic disparities in society as the super wealthy. So till you learn to distinguish between necessity and luxury and thereafter abolish all trace of luxury from your own life, you are the problem yourself, as much as the greedy capitalists and politicians.

Judging by what I’ve seen, human beings are the devil’s own, his one true family. There’s nothing divine about us. We’re just a bunch of animals, greedy animals who harm their own kind, harm them to possess what they have, harm them to own. The only thing special about us is, we don’t die off when we should. We adapt. We endure. That’s our single greatest attribute as a species … our staying power. In our tolerance of misery, we are quite versatile.

By understanding the inner workings of self-justification, we can answer these questions and make sense of dozens of other things people do that otherwise seem unfathomable or crazy. We can answer the question so many people ask when they look at ruthless dictators, greedy corporate CEOs, religious zealots who murder in the name of God, priests who molest children, or family members who cheat their relatives out of inheritances: How in the world can they live with themselves? The answer is: exactly the way the rest of us do.

Ronnie stared at our grandmother. "I thought I was the shady one in the family, but Lola's got me beat." "I don't know what that means, but if you're comparing yourself to me, I don't like it. My plans are smart. Yours are just greedy," Lola Flor said sharply. Says the woman with a gambling addiction, but that was an issue for the therapist she refused to see. I wasn't foolish enough to say that out loud.

Then he said, “I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.” But God said to him, “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God. (Luke 12:16–21) The social context outlined earlier in this chapter should help us understand why Jesus has such a harsh rebuke for those who store up treasures. In poverty-stricken Judea, a huge barn of grain and goods could provide sustenance for many suffering people. A rich man who stored up his abundance rather than providing for the needs of those around him is not only a negative example—he is a villain and an oppressor. When Jesus condemns those who are “not rich toward God,” he is reprimanding those who do not share their resources with people in need. What looks like smart financial planning in our American context—saving up for the future when we have extra—is a destructive kind of greed that ignores and even contributes to the plight of the poor. It might be tempting for us to point to the differences between our culture and theirs to excuse ourselves from Jesus’s condemnation. Surely growing our 401(k)s or saving for a family trip doesn’t make us greedy? And yet, the reality of Jesus’s world is not much different from ours—people still suffer in poverty while corporations and individuals build bigger barns and store up their treasures.

When Gary Becker, an American economist, in his celebrated `Treatise of Family’ imagined a household as a primary site of production of goods and sustenance in the form of child care, meals, and shelter, besides a range of commodities such as health, happiness, self-esteem, security, sexual pleasure, and so on, he disregarded the fact that a family is also a site of reproducing inequalities and sustaining patriarchal values. Becker proposed the theory of a rational `economic man’ who makes choices based on his self-interest, but he has not contemplated the dire situations of exploitation, blackmail, and extortion within marriages in South Asian patriarchal, hierarchical societies where self-interest would turn into insatiable greediness to create an antagonistic situation where an `economic man’, driven by irrational voracity, ends up torturing and murdering `his wife’, and destroying his own family when his arbitrary demands remain unfulfilled

turned the majority of their kingdom — the peasants, workers, and slaves — against the wealthy members of society. They encouraged hatred of the rich for their indulgent consumption —all the rich, that is, except for the royal family, whose wealth was needed to rule beneficently. Then they confiscated most of the wealth of these “greedy” rich through excessive taxation, in the name of spreading the wealth around, so that “all would be equal.” But the rich were ruined and could no longer afford to employ the poor commoners in their fields and storehouses. The government then had to confiscate the means of production and place all citizens in their care as wards of the state. So commoners ended up not much different than slaves. They depended upon the government for their daily bread, their shelter, and even their health. The daily survival of the citizens was completely in the hands of Semiramis and Mardon.

Why is it that when men approach women as conquests to be won they are lauded, but when women decide to go on a hunt of their own, they’re branded as too aggressive, too eager, too greedy? Your sex didn’t corner the market on ambition. Or a love of the chase.

Givers are never greedy. Greedy ones never give.

Rich guys are weird and greedy,

Anorectics experience extreme weight loss. But you lose more than that. Hair, fingernails, teeth. You lose your friends, family, yourself. You lose your sense of the world. Of what is important beyond the not-eating. And, eventually, you lose it all. Your life. She’s greedy, anorexia is.

TO THE IGNORANT MOTHERFUCKERS who keep breaking into my house: it’s bad enough that my children and I have been homeless for 2 and a half years but now I have to deal with this. Your greediness has cost me over $35,000 in damages and the bank has put a forced insurance of $5000 on my mortgage, so as of jan 1, my mortgage payment goes up $500 a month. I hope you feel good about what you have done and I hope

The fairest babe, that has entered life this year and become the sunbeam of a family, is not, as its mother perhaps fondly calls it, a little ‘angel’, or a little ‘innocent’, but a little ‘sinner’. Alas! As it lies smiling and crowing in its cradle, that little creature carries in its heart the seeds of every kind of wickedness! Only watch it carefully, as it grows in stature and its mind develops, and you will soon detect in it an incessant tendency to that which is bad, and a backwardness to that which is good. You will see in it the buds and germs of deceit, evil temper, selfishness, self-will, obstinacy, greediness, envy, jealousy, passion, which, if indulged and let alone, will shoot up with painful rapidity.

That's the Zach I wanted back. The son I knew and loved. But it seemed almost greedy to long for that. He was alive. Shouldn't I be grateful? How dare I say it wasn't enough?

We are acquisitive, greedy, and pugnacious because our blood remembers millenniums through which our forebears had to chase and fight and kill in order to survive, and had to eat to their gastric capacity for fear they should not soon capture another feast. War is a nation’s way of eating. It promotes co-operation because it is the ultimate form of competition. Until our states become members of a large and effectively protective group they will continue to act like individuals and families in the hunting stage.

And for the first time in my life, I was greedy enough to want somethin’ like that for myself. Not just the club but a family I could call my own with a woman who’d carve her name into my bones and make me hers forever.

The Shire at this time had hardly any ‘government’. Families for the most part managed their own affairs. Growing food and eating it occupied most of their time. In other matters they were, as a rule, generous and not greedy, but contented and moderate, so that estates, farms, workshops, and small trades tended to remain unchanged for generations.

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