Human Pedigree Quotes

One who feels responsible for their community, needs no ancestor to define their identity.

An anatomy lab is as choosy as a pedigreed woman seeking love: You can’t be too fat or too tall or have any communicable diseases.

You have no identity until you make one with your actions.

For hundreds of years, people have categorized others as less so they could feel like more. Color, gender, class, religion, physical handicaps, sexual orientation, and pedigree are just a few ways in which one group is divided from another. For every person who stands superior, another must be inferior. But what does it say of us as a human race when we push others down for our own needs?

Academic pedigree alone is no guarantor of useful knowledge and wisdom.

I hate this place. You can’t get a cup of coffee unless it has a backstory and a pedigree so the café can charge you as much for the cup as a normal human pays for dinner. Women drive by in cute little sports cars with more power under the hood than a Saturn V, but the speedometer will never top twenty because then they might not be seen and admired. Men window-shop in silk jackets made by indentured servants in countries they’ve never heard of while their sons all imagine they’re Tupac because they bought their thousand-dollar designer jeans a couple of sizes too big.

Far from sprouting from the grass roots or channeling the anger of know-nothings, the disdain for reason, science, humanism, and progress has a long pedigree in elite intellectual and artistic culture.

History shows us we need labels to help define our place. For hundreds of years, people have categorized others as less so they could feel like more. Color, gender, class, religion, physical handicaps, sexual orientation, and pedigree are just a few ways in which one group is divided from another. For every person who stands superior, another must be inferior. But what does it say of us as a human race when we push others down for our own needs?

Not one of them fails to ask me the same loaded question ... 'So, where are you from?' A question as mundane as it is predictable. It feels like an obligatory rite-of-passage, before the relationship can develop any further. My skin - the colour of caramel - must explain itself by offering up its pedigree. 'I'm a human being' My answer rankles with them. Not that I'm trying to be provocative. Any more than I want to appear pedantic or philosophical. But when I was just knee-high to a locust, I had already made up my mind never to define myself again.

Progressive thought is blind when it suggests that there can be no anti-white racism or an anti-semitism among the formerly oppressed or the young people in the projects because they themselves have suffered from this evil. They are the victims; they are exempt from the prejudices that affect the majority of the population. But the reverse is true: racism is multiplying at exponential rates among groups and communities, taboos are collapsing, and everything is explained in terms of physical characteristics, identity, purity, and difference. and this is a racism that is all the more certain that it is right because it is regarded as a legitimate reaction on the part of the persecuted. now we see the obsession with the pedigree and the old distinctions derived from slavery being revived, and prejudices accumulating in the name of racism. This is the end of the concept of humanity as union in diversity and the triumph of human species incompatible with each other.

History shows us we need labels to help define our place. For hundreds of years, people have categorized others as less so they could feel like more. Color, gender, class, religion, physical handicaps, sexual orientation, and pedigree are just a few ways in which one group is divided from another. For every person who stands superior, another must be inferior. But what does it say of us as a human race when we push others down for our own needs? Does it accomplish the intended goal or simply give

Those who are arrogant about their pedigree, about their culture, about their intellect, I have no business with them, give me the humble janitor, give me the illiterate construction worker, give me the dropout waitress - the humble soul will find me in their own heart, but the arrogant will argue their whole life and never understand what I am all about, what humanity is all about - it's about community, it's about listening, it's about letting go of one's self-obsessed identity to become one with humanity.

History shows us we need labels to help define our place. For hundreds of years, people have categorized others as less so they could feel like more. Color, gender, class, religion, physical handicaps, sexual orientation, and pedigree are just a few ways in which one group is divided from another. For every person who stands superior, another must be inferior. But what does it say of us as a human race when we push others down for our own needs? Does it accomplish the intended goal or simply give rise to a pattern of behavior that can never be broken?

History shows us we need labels to help define our place. For hundreds of years, people have categorized others as less so they could feel like more. Color, gender, class, religion, physical handicaps, sexual orientation, and pedigree are just a few ways in which one group is divided from another. For every person who stands superior, another must be inferior. But what does it say of us as a human race when we push others down for our own needs? Does it accomplish the intended goal or simply give rise to a pattern of behavior that can never be broken? What if we all stood equal in one another’s eyes and felt pride at our reflection? I speak of utopia and chance being ridiculed, but sitting in a village thousands of miles from everything, I will roll the dice. For one day only, maybe we could put aside our differences and come together in our sameness. For one day, we could see that past all the variations, we are all the same with similar hopes, dreams, fears, strengths, and weaknesses. For one day, we could stand together, not apart, and treat others as we would hope to be treated.

Eric Metaxas emerged as a leading voice on Christian masculinity in the Obama era. Metaxas wasn’t new to the world of evangelical publishing, or to evangelical culture more generally. Raised in the Greek Orthodox Church, Metaxas got his start writing children’s books. In 1997 he began working as a writer and editor for Charles Colson’s BreakPoint radio show, and he then worked as a writer for VeggieTales, a children’s video series where anthropomorphic vegetables taught lessons in biblical values and Christian morality. (Bob the Tomato and Larry the Cucumber became household names in 1990s evangelicalism.) Belying his VeggieTales pedigree, Metaxas brought a new sophistication to the literature on evangelical masculinity. As a witty, Yale-educated Manhattanite, Metaxas cut a different profile than many spokesmen of the Christian Right. If Metaxas’s writing wasn’t exactly highbrow, his was higher-brow than most books churned out by Christian presses. More suave in his presentation than the average evangelical firebrand, Metaxas was a rising star in the conservative Christian world of the 2000s. After Colson’s death in 2012 he took over BreakPoint, a program broadcast on 1400 outlets to an audience of eight million. That year he also gave the keynote address at the National Prayer Breakfast, where he relished the opportunity to scold President Obama to his face, castigating those who displayed “phony religiosity” by throwing Bible verses around and claiming to be Christian while denying the exclusivity of the faith and the humanity of the unborn. In 2015 he launched his own nationally syndicated daily radio program, The Eric Metaxas Show.

The man had donated his body to science, but, owing to its having been autopsied, science politely declined. An anatomy lab is as choosy as a pedigreed woman seeking love: You can’t be too fat or too tall or have any communicable diseases.

Pedigree is a word derived from the middle French phrase pied de grue—the crane’s foot—as the digits and hallux spread from a single joint at the bottom of the tibia, roughly equivalent to our ankle. This branching describes one or a few generations of a family tree,

Self-confidence has ever been the best substitute for friends, pedigree, influence, and money. It is the best capital in the world; it has mastered more obstacles, overcome more difficulties, and carried through more enterprises than any other human quality.

Posh Yet Potty (The Sonnet) One can be posh on the outside yet potty on the inside. More often than less both of these go hand in hand. Pedigree, personality, position, all are deemed important. Amidst this royal mess of things we forget to be human. We look at partisan loyalty, we look at intellectual fluency, And in the process of analysis we end up a freudian chasm. In order to find whether someone belongs in our camp, We act less of a human and more of a lifeless algorithm. It's okay if you don't know how to use spoon and fork. What matters is, to reach out and feed an empty stomach. It's okay if you don't know much fancy words and facts. What matters is, your heart beats beyond the factual muck. So, shitty or not we look on the outside, let's pay no attention, Instead let us muster all spirit towards internal ascension.

You are a little chubby - doesn't matter. You are a little skinny - doesn't matter. You don't know any table etiquette - doesn't matter. You prefer jeans over tuxedo - doesn't matter. You have tattoos all over your body - doesn't matter. You don't have a tag hanging from your neck saying religious - doesn't matter. What matters is, how you behave with those whom the society has placed at the bottom of its egotistical, megalomaniacal and barbaric hierarchy of class and pedigree.

Sonnet of Identity Tell me O Mississippi, What is my name? For I lost my sense of self, In line of service without gain. Dear mountains of Blue Ridge, Where did I come from? I fathom not the worldly titles, I deny narrowness as the norm. Character makes the person, Not pedigree and tradition. If I can lift even five lives, That’ll be my highest salvation. So forget that I asked about my identity. Service is my culture and my nationality.

We all naturally want a father who loves us. We all deeply desire a father who brings us safety and security and blessing and belonging. But in a world that is fallen and shot through with sin, the reality is this: finding such comforts is difficult indeed. Scripture tells us, however, how we may finally and lastingly come home to the heavenly Father. We are told how we may find what we were designed for. It is not through might, or pedigree, or works, or human ingenuity. It is all through the blood of Christ.

Something in the order of a 107 billion modern humans have existed, though this number depends on when exactly you start counting. All of them – of us – are close cousins, as our species has a single African origin. We don’t quite have the language to describe what that really means. It doesn’t, for example, mean a single couple, a hypothetical Adam and Eve. We think of families and pedigrees and genealogies and ancestry, and we try to think of the deep past in the same way. Who were my ancestors? You might have a simple, traditional family structure or, like me, it could be handsomely untidy, and its tendrils jumbled like old wires in a drawer. But no matter which, everyone’s past becomes muddled sooner or later.

Depressive realism has a very impressive pedigree. The Buddha pronounced that “all life is suffering” about 2,500 years ago, at roughly the time when the original Greek tragedies were composed. The Old Testament writers and prophets bequeathed us the concepts of human evil, sin, and the Fall, all this stemming from about the 5th century BCE when Adam behaved badly and doomed us all to suffering and death. From Paul through Augustine and Aquinas we have inherited the concept of original sin. The idea that we live in a “vale of tears” is probably from a Catholic hymn. Shakespeare put the phrases “to be or not to be” and “shuffle off our mortal coil” in Hamlet’s mouth in 1603. Robert Burton’s monumental The Anatomy of Melancholy was published in 1621 and George Cheyne’s The English Malady in 1733. DR is hardly a wacky modern idea owing its existence to Enlightenment- denying pessimists or to 20th century existentialists.

On the contrary, respecting the autonomy of individual animals instead of focusing on the purity of their 'wild' pedigree suggests that any positive relationship between us and them must be by mutual consent.

Everyone knows that the Puritans, powerful advocates of frugal simplicity, were suspicious of pleasure. But this strain in Christianity had some philosophical pedigree since it echoes a sentiment voiced by Plato. In several dialogues Plato argues against those who view pleasure as the ultimate good for human beings. In the Gorgias, for instance, Socrates and Callicles, an aspiring politician, go head-to-head on precisely this question. Callicles identifies the good with pleasure and understands pleasure as the gratification of desire. This is the axiom underlying his defense of oratory, since through oratory one can gain power, and with power one can gratify one’s desires. Against this, Socrates defends philosophy, which aims at truth (as opposed to mere persuasion), and likens the person who continually seeks pleasure to someone who is continually trying (and failing) to fill up a leaky pitcher. (Callicles responds by comparing the Socratic ideal of serenity to the experience of a stone.) In other works too, Plato’s distrust of pleasure is evident. He sees it as an attractive force that pulls us away from what really matters: namely, truth and virtue. In the Republic, Socrates’s initial vision of an ideal city is one in which the citizens spend their days sitting around discussing philosophy, undistracted by desires for anything beyond the satisfaction of basic needs.24 (His interlocutors reject this vision as being insufficiently civilized.) In the Phaedo philosophy is famously described as a preparation for death, in part because it helps the soul to detach itself from the body with all its sensual appetites and cravings.

Any system that facilitates allegiance to pedigree or popularity is a most disgusting stain upon the honor of a civilized society.

In the English-speaking world, talk about "love" is muddled by our tendency to squeeze many human types of love into a single syllable. C. S. Lewis recognized this problem sixty years ago, prompting him to compose a little book titled The Four Loves. The four on which Lewis concentrates all enjoy classical pedigrees: affection, friendship, romantic love (which he calls "eros"), and charity. Unsurprisingly, Lewis gives his highest praise to the last member of the group, which he presents as the distinctly Christian form of love. This is the form that answers the Lord's call to love God and neighbor. Lewis argues, however, that the other three loves bring great benefits to our lives as well. It is good to be affectionate, to have friends, to be "in love." Yet the Oxford don saw that none of these loves is from a Christian perspective "self-sufficient." "If the feeling is to be kept sweet," affection, friendship, and romance must be anchored elsewhere. Charity is the spring from which all other loves flow.

The Christian belief is that Jesus, as God, is the only one who can bring humanity back to God. He was the only person in history with such a pedigree. 1 Timothy 2:5 tells us plainly, “There is one God, and there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus.” As a man, he could represent humanity. He was tempted in every way, and yet he never sinned. Jesus is our proverbial “best foot forward” as far as humanity goes. Jesus is also God. As such he is able to serve as a “middle man” and usher us into the very presence of God. The amazing thing is that Jesus offers his righteousness to anyone who will receive it. Rather than being receptive to this offer, we complain there are not other ways to God. While it is incredibly gracious that God would offer any way back to him, people complain that he did not provide ten ways. The offer for salvation is available to all. Instead of being exclusive, Christianity is actually very inclusive. Everyone is welcome to come to Jesus. It does not matter who they are, or what they have done. The Bible tells us, “…whoever believes in him shall have eternal life” (John 3:16). Whether they be Jew, Hindu, Sikh, Greek, Canadian, African, athlete, entrepreneur, lawyer, or academic, the offer is there — come to Jesus.

Essayist and poets share many of the same alluring keystrokes, even if they are rather rabid about asserting their notable pedigree differences. The writer and the poet use the juxtaposition of words to create a lovely portrayal of the touches of sweetness and the bitter edges of life. By doing so, they clarify and affirm the bewildering array of inconsistencies, ironies, absurdities, delights, and enigmas that describe what it entails to be fully alive. Each artistic form serves the same essential purpose, which is to investigate, ponder, and explain the bouquets of comedy and tragedy, covenants of love and mercy, and stones of anger and hatred that compulsory merger contextualize human life. By linking words that explore the chaos and silence within all of nature, essayists and poets’ labor serves to uplift the author and inspire their brethren.

Dear Human, My Human, the Old Lady (that’s her name) is a Russian scientist. Old Lady made a big scientific discovery: found the key to my eternal youth. Or even to immortality, if we like. Old Lady made herself immortal first. I don’t blame her. Next, Martha-the-White-Rat. Then, me and my sister Milly—we trace our pedigree through the purest blood lines of Bavarian-born Spaniels. But then she stopped. My other siblings look all aged by now. But at my 17, I look no more than three or four. My sister Milly got stuck at puppy age. We watch the photos of our relatives on Facebook, and we are saddened that Old Lady did not make them immortal too. That she keeps it a secret. And I am so worried about my friend Fox Theodore. He is at the hight of his financial and physical might now, but I know he will age. My best friend. I once tried to unlock the Secret. Me and Raccoon. (Raccoon’s a human, but he is sort of my buddy.) That turned out to be my big mistake. Lots other Humans came coveting the Secret too, which resulted in a lot of unpleasant and funny stories. More unpleasant. In the aftermath, Old Lady had to flee and I got misplaced. All my own fault. Now I’m trying to get found. Have you seen my Old Lady? You’d recognize her: her hands and face are way too young, plus she always clips her amber brooch. If you see her, tell her where I stay: 7 White Goose Lane, Ducklingburg, South Duck United State of America P.S. Tell her from me that she is the very finest Human in the whole world and that I am very lonely here without her. Zip, the Spaniel Dog

It’s actually not that surprising that pedigree is not that predictive. Think of humans. Imagine an NBA owner who bought his future team, as ten-year-olds, based on their pedigrees. He would have hired an agent to examine Earvin