Inherited Hunger Quotes

Our world is not safe. It is a toxic swamp populated by predators and parasites. The odds are stacked against us from the moment of conception. We survive only because we fight the elements, hunger, disease, each other. And, although civilization promises us safe harbor, that promise is a fairy tale. Only the storm is real. It comes for each of us. And we cannot win. We can only choose how we will suffer our defeat. We can meekly take our beatings, and die like lemmings, finding solace in the belief that we shall one day inherit the earth. Or, we can plunge into the chaos with eyes wide open, taking comfort instead from the bruises, scars, and broken bones which prove that we fought to live and die as gods.

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God. Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. -- Matthew 5

In theory, the risk of business failure can be reduced to a number, the probability of failure multiplied by the cost of failure. Sure, this turns out to be a subjective analysis, but in the process your own attitudes toward financial risk and reward are revealed. By contrast, personal risk usually defies quantification. It's a matter of values and priorities, an expression of who you are. "Playing it safe" may simply mean you do not weigh heavily the compromises inherent in the status quo. The financial rewards of the moment may fully compensate you for the loss of time and fulfillment. Or maybe you just don't think about it. On the other hand, if time and satisfaction are precious, truly priceless, you will find the cost of business failure, so long as it does not put in peril the well-being of you or your family, pales in comparison with the personal risks of no trying to live the life you want today. Considering personal risk forces us to define personal success. We may well discover that the business failure we avoid and the business success we strive for do not lead us to personal success at all. Most of us have inherited notions of "success" from someone else or have arrived at these notions by facing a seemingly endless line of hurdles extending from grade school through college and into our careers. We constantly judge ourselves against criteria that others have set and rank ourselves against others in their game. Personal goals, on the other hand, leave us on our own, without this habit of useless measurement and comparison. Only the Whole Life Plan leads to personal success. It has the greatest chance of providing satisfaction and contentment that one can take to the grave, tomorrow. In the Deferred Life Plan there will always be another prize to covet, another distraction, a new hunger to sate. You will forever come up short.

How could something that had never been his leave a hunger nothing else could fill?

I made my way to the living room and sat down on the sofa. Hannah followed a moment later and sat down opposite me. She looked exhausted. ‘You look exhausted,’ I told her. ‘Thank you.’ ‘No, no, it’s not that you look bad,’ I said, backtracking. ‘You just look more tired than usual.’ ‘Mmm hmmm,’ said Hannah. ‘Not that you usually look tired.’ Hannah rolled her eyes. I decided I was talking too much and turned my attention to the pitiful collection of ‘80s music cassettes that she’d inherited when she moved into the apartment. Then I started talking again. ‘You know, you’re only one album away from owning Bananarama’s full back catalogue.’ I looked over to Hannah. She wasn’t laughing. That felt strange. She always laughed at my crappy music cassette jokes. I tried another.

What the lyric essay inherits from the public essay is a fact-hungry pursuit of solutions to problems,

the meek, who suffer spoliation rather than jeopardize their souls in contention, shall inherit the earth; those that hunger and thirst for the truth shall be fed in rich abundance;

These things cannot be stopped: An inherited strength of will. One’s dreams. The ebb and flow of the ages. As long as people hunger for freedom, these things will exist. — Gold Roger King of the Pirates

But William Stoner knew of the world in a way that few of his younger colleagues could understand. Deep in him, beneath his memory, was the knowledge of hardship and hunger and endurance and pain. Though he seldom thought of his early years on the Booneville farm, there was always near his consciousness the blood knowledge of his inheritance, given him by forefathers whose lives were obscure and hard and stoical and whose common ethic was to present to an oppressive world face that were expressionless and hard and bleak.

By the mistaken benevolence of deceased relatives both young men were placed out of reach of hunger, and so, meditating high achievements, idled their time pleasantly away, and revelled in the careless joys of a Bohemianism devoid of the sharp reasoning of adversity.

But while the residents were shocked by the violence, they were also often surprised by the mundaneness of it all. Discovered the extent of perversity the heart is capable of as they sat at home with nothing to do, and found that it was possible, faced with the stench of unimaginable evil, for a human being to grow bored, yawn, be absorbed by the problem of a missing sock, by neighborly irritations, to feel hunger skipping like a little mouse inside a tummy and return, once again, to the pressing matter of what to eat.... There they were, the most commonplace of them, those quite mismatched with the larger-than-life questions, caught up in the mythic battles of past vs. present, justice vs. injustice—the most ordinary swept up in extraordinary hatred, because extraordinary hatred was, after all, a commonplace event.

Is this really what we want to do? Kill ourselves off completely? In the hopes that — what? Some decent species will inherit the smoking remains of the earth?

Thirteen is even larger than I thought.” “Can’t take credit for much of it,” says Boggs. “We basically inherited the place. It’s been all we can do to keep it running.

I don’t want to talk about dying songbirds. They bring up thoughts of my father’s death and Rue’s death and Maysilee Donner’s death and my mother inheriting her songbird. Oh, great, and now I’m thinking of Gale, deep down in that horrible mine, with President Snow’s threat hanging over his head. So easy to make it look like an accident down there. A silent canary, a spark, and nothing more.

And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain: and when he was set, his disciples came unto him: And he opened his mouth, and taught them, saying, Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God. Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.

But William Stoner knew of the world in a way that few of his younger colleagues could understand. Deep in him, beneath his memory, was the knowledge of hardship and hunger and endurance and pain. Though he seldom thought of his early years on the Booneville farm, there was always near his consciousness the blood knowledge of his inheritance, given him by forefathers whose lives were obscure and hard and stoical and whose common ethic was to present to an oppressive world faces that were expressionless and hard and bleak.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

For human beings. We almost went extinct fighting one another before. Now our numbers are even fewer. Our conditions more tenuous. Is this really what we want to do? Kill ourselves off completely? In the hopes that — what? Some decent species will inherit the smoking remains of the earth?” “I

Despite his mellow, Zen-like demeanor, the appearance of that bookcase betrayed an urgency. A hunger. This thing meant something to him. Of course I had always known that, but there was something about seeing it rendered in rich mahogany that gave it weight—not only the weight of the wood or the tomes on its shelves, but the weight of his ambition, an ambition that was now my inheritance.

What a story it is. It is filled with suffering and hunger and cold and death. It is replete with accounts of freezing rivers that had to be waded through; of howling blizzards; of the long, slow climb up Rocky Ridge. with the passing of this anniversary year, it may become largely forgotten. But hopefully it will be told again and again to remind future generations of the suffering and the faith of those who came before. Their faith is our inheritance. Their faith is a reminder to us of the price they paid for the comforts we enjoy.

There was one more consideration. He had something Sejanus Plinth wanted, and wanted badly. Sejanus had already usurped his position, his inheritance, his clothes, his candy, his sandwiches, and the privilege due a Snow. Now he was coming for his apartment, his spot at the University, his very future, and had the gall to be resentful of his good fortune. To reject it. To consider it a punishment, even. If having Marcus as a tribute made Sejanus squirm, then good. Let him squirm. Lucy Gray was one thing belonging to Coriolanus that he would never, ever get

Queer little twists and quirks go into the making of an individual. To suppress them all and follow clock and calendar and creed until the individual is lost in the neutral gray of the host is to be less than true to our inheritance. Life, that gorgeous quality of life, is not accomplished by following another man’s rules. It is true we have the same hungers and same thirsts, but they are for different things and in different ways and in different seasons. Lay down your own day, follow it to its noon, your own noon, or you will sit in an outer hall listening to the chimes but never reaching high enough to strike your own

My mother has always loved piano music and hungered to play. When she was in her early sixties, she retired from her job as a computer programmer so that she could devote herself more fully to the piano. As she had done with her dog obsession, she took her piano education to an extreme. She bought not one, not two, but three pianos. One was the beautiful Steinway B, a small grand piano she purchased with a modest inheritance left by a friend of her parents’. She photocopied all of her music in a larger size so she could see it better and mounted it on manila folders. She practiced for several hours every day. When she wasn’t practicing the piano she was talking about the piano. I love pianos, too, and wrote an entire book about the life of one piano, a Steinway owned by the renowned pianist Glenn Gould. And I shared my mother’s love for her piano. During phone conversations, I listened raptly as she told me about the instrument’s cross-country adventures. Before bringing the Steinway north, my mother had mentioned that she was considering selling it. I was surprised, but instead of reminding her that, last I knew, she was setting it aside for me, I said nothing, unable to utter the simple words, “But, Mom, don’t you remember your promise?” If I did, it would be a way of asking for something, and asking my mother for something was always dangerous because of the risk of disappointment.

Here in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus was saying that we are blessed because we are experiencing God’s reign in our midst and will experience it yet more in the future reign. Each Beatitude begins with the joy, the happiness, the blessedness, of the good news of participation in God’s gracious deliverance. And each Beatitude ends by pointing to the reality of God’s coming reign: in God’s kingdom, those who mourn will be comforted, the humble will inherit the earth, those who hunger for righteousness will be filled, mercy will be shown, people will see God, peacemakers will be called children of God, and the faithful will be members of the kingdom of God. And this experience was already beginning in Jesus.

Blessed are the generous in love: for theirs is the Love of the Goddess. Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the poor: for they shall inherit the Earth. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after the knowledge: for they shall be enlightened. Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall be loved by the Goddess. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the avatars of the Goddess. Blessed are they who are persecuted: for theirs will be the Goddesses' justice. Blessed are you of the Goddess when the ignorant shall revile you, And persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for the Goddesses sake.

We that are bred up in learning, and destinated by our parents to this end, we suffer our childhood in the grammar-school, which Austin calls magnam tyrannidem, et grave malum, and compares it to the torments of martyrdom; when we come to the university, if we live of the college allowance, as Phalaris objected to the Leontines, [Greek: pan ton endeis plaen limou kai phobou] , needy of all things but hunger and fear, or if we be maintained but partly by our parents' cost, do expend in unnecessary maintenance, books and degrees, before we come to any perfection, five hundred pounds, or a thousand marks. If by this price of the expense of time, our bodies and spirits, our substance and patrimonies, we cannot purchase those small rewards, which are ours by law, and the right of inheritance, a poor parsonage, or a vicarage of 50 l. per annum, but we must pay to the patron for the lease of a life (a spent and out-worn life) either in annual pension, or above the rate of a copyhold, and that with the hazard and loss of our souls, by simony and perjury, and the forfeiture of all our spiritual preferments, in esse and posse, both present and to come. What father after a while will be so improvident to bring up his son to his great charge, to this necessary beggary? What Christian will be so irreligious, to bring up his son in that course of life, which by all probability and necessity, coget ad turpia, enforcing to sin, will entangle him in simony and perjury, when as the poet said, Invitatus ad hæc aliquis de ponte negabit: a beggar's brat taken from the bridge where he sits a begging, if he knew the inconvenience, had cause to refuse it." This being thus, have not we fished fair all this while, that are initiate divines, to find no better fruits of our labours, [2030] hoc est cur palles, cur quis non prandeat hoc est? do we macerate ourselves for this? Is it for this we rise so early all the year long? [2031] "Leaping" (as he saith) "out of our beds, when we hear the bell ring, as if we had heard a thunderclap." If this be all the respect, reward and honour we shall have, [2032] frange leves calamos, et scinde Thalia libellos: let us give over our books, and betake ourselves to some other course of life; to what end should we study?

Now are you truly my Brothers and Sisters, having tasted the sap of my veins here in the shadow of almighty Helgrind. Blood calls to blood, and if ever your Family should need help, do then what you can for the Church and for others who acknowledge the power of our Dread Lord.… To affirm and reaffirm our fealty to the Triumvirate, recite with me the Nine Oaths.… By Gorm, Ilda, and Fell Angvara, we vow to perform homage at least thrice a month, in the hour before dusk, and then to make an offering of ourselves to appease the eternal hunger of our Great and Terrible Lord.… We vow to observe the strictures as they are presented in the book of Tosk.… We vow to always carry our Bregnir on our bodies and to forever abstain from the twelve of twelves and the touch of a many-knotted rope, lest it corrupt …

Blessed are the poor in spirit; yours is the kingdom of heaven! What could the church do, not just say, that would make the poor in spirit believe that? Blessed are the mourners; they shall be comforted! How will the mourners believe that, if we are not God's agents in bringing that comfort? Blessed are the meek; they shall inherit the earth. How will the meet ever believe such nonsense if the church does not stand up for the rights against the rich and the powerful, in the name of the crucified Messiah who had nowhere to lay his head? Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for God's justice; how will that message get through, unless we are prepared to stand alongside those who are denied justice and go on making a fuss until they get it? Blessed are the merciful; how are people to believe that, in a world where mercy is weakness, unless we visit the prisoner and welcome the prodigal? Blessed are the pure in heart; how will people believe that, in a world where impurity is a big business, unless we ourselves are worshipping the living God until our own hearts are set on fire and scorched through with his purity? Blessed are the peacemakers; how will we ever learn that, in a world where war in one country means business for another,, unless the church stands in the middle and says that there is a different way of being human, a different way of ordering our common life? Blessed are the persecuted and insulted for the kingdom's sake, for Jesus' sake; how will that message ever get across if the church is so anxious not to court bad publicity that it refuses ever to say or do anything that might get it into trouble either with the authorities, for being so subversive, or with the revolutionaries, for insisting that the true revolution begins at the foot of the cross?

How we doing on the Beatitudes?” “Pardon me?” “The blesseds.” “We’ve got: Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness; blessed are the poor in spirit, the pure in heart, the whiners, the meek, the—” “Wait, what are we giving the meek?” “Let’s see, uh, here: Blessed are the meek, for to them we shall say, ‘attaboy.’” “A little weak.” “Yeah.” “Let’s let the meek inherit the earth.” “Can’t you give the earth to the whiners?” “Well then, cut the whiners and give the earth to the meek.” “Okay. Earth to the meek. Here we go. Blessed are the peacemakers, the mourners, and that’s it.” “How many is that?” “Seven.” “Not enough. We need one more. How about the dumbfucks?” “No, Josh, not the dumbfucks. You’ve done enough for the dumbfucks. Nathaniel, Thomas—” “Blessed are the dumbfucks for they, uh—I don’t know—they shall never be disappointed.” “No, I’m drawing the line at dumbfucks. Come on, Josh, why can’t we have any powerful guys on our team? Why do we have to have the meek, and the poor, the oppressed, and the pissed on? Why can’t we, for once, have blessed are the big powerful rich guys with swords?” “Because they don’t need us.” “Okay, but no ‘Blessed are the dumbfucks.’” “Who then?” “Sluts?” “No.” “How about the wankers? I can think of five or six disciples that would be really blessed.” “No wankers. I’ve got it: Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake.” “Okay, better. What are you going to give them?” “A fruit basket.” “You can’t give the meek the whole earth and these guys a fruit basket.” “Give them the kingdom of heaven.” “The poor in spirit got that.” “Everybody gets some.” “Okay then, ‘share the Kingdom of Heaven.’” I wrote it down. “We could give the fruit basket to the dumbfucks.” “NO DUMBFUCKS!” “Sorry, I just feel for them.” “You feel for everyone, Josh. It’s your job.” “Oh yeah. I forgot.” We finished writing the sermon only a few hours before Philip and Thaddeus returned from Judea leading three thousand of John’s followers.

was a commonplace among his colleagues—especially the younger ones—that he was a “dedicated” teacher, a term they used half in envy and half in contempt, one whose dedication blinded him to anything that went on outside the classroom or, at the most, outside the halls of the University. There were mild jokes: after a departmental meeting at which Stoner had spoken bluntly about some recent experiments in the teaching of grammar, a young instructor remarked that “To Stoner, copulation is restricted to verbs,” and was surprised at the quality of laughter and meaningful looks exchanged by some of the older men. Someone else once said, “Old Stoner thinks that WPA stands for Wrong Pronoun Antecedent,” and was gratified to learn that his witticism gained some currency. But William Stoner knew of the world in a way that few of his younger colleagues could understand. Deep in him, beneath his memory, was the knowledge of hardship and hunger and endurance and pain. Though he seldom thought of his early years on the Booneville farm, there was always near his consciousness the blood knowledge of his inheritance, given him by forefathers whose lives were obscure and hard and stoical and whose common ethic was to present to an oppressive world faces that were expressionless and hard and bleak. And though he looked upon them with apparent impassivity, he was aware of the times in which he lived. During that decade when many men’s faces found a permanent hardness and bleakness, as if they looked upon an abyss, William Stoner, to whom that expression was as familiar as the air he walked in, saw the signs of a general despair he had known since he was a boy. He saw good men go down into a slow decline of hopelessness, broken as their vision of a decent life was broken; he saw them walking aimlessly upon the streets, their eyes empty like shards of broken glass; he saw them walk up to back doors, with the bitter pride of men who go to their executions, and beg for the bread that would allow them to beg again; and he saw men, who had once walked erect

After the Grand Perhaps” After vespers, after the first snow has fallen to its squalls, after New Wave, after the anorexics have curled into their geometric forms, after the man with the apparition in his one bad eye has done red things behind the curtain of the lid & sleeps, after the fallout shelter in the elementary school has been packed with tins & other tangibles, after the barn boys have woken, startled by foxes & fire, warm in their hay, every part of them blithe & smooth & touchable, after the little vandals have tilted toward the impossible seduction to smash glass in the dark, getting away with the most lethal pieces, leaving the shards which travel most easily through flesh as message on the bathroom floor, the parking lots, the irresistible debris of the neighbor’s yard where he’s been constructing all winter long. After the pain has become an old known friend, repeating itself, you can hold on to it. The power of fright, I think, is as much as magnetic heat or gravity. After what is boundless: wind chimes, fertile patches of the land, the ochre symmetry of fields in fall, the end of breath, the beginning of shadow, the shadow of heat as it moves the way the night heads west, I take this road to arrive at its end where the toll taker passes the night, reading. I feel the cupped heat of his left hand as he inherits change; on the road that is not his road anymore I belong to whatever it is which will happen to me. When I left this city I gave back the metallic waking in the night, the signals of barges moving coal up a slow river north, the movement of trains, each whistle like a woodwind song of another age passing, each ambulance would split a night in two, lying in bed as a little girl, a fear of being taken with the sirens as they lit the neighborhood in neon, quick as the fire as it takes fire & our house goes up in night. After what is arbitrary: the hand grazing something too sharp or fine, the word spoken out of sleep, the buckling of the knees to cold, the melting of the parts to want, the design of the moon to cast unfriendly light, the dazed shadow of the self as it follows the self, the toll taker’s sorrow that we couldn’t have been more intimate. Which leads me back to the land, the old wolves which used to roam on it, the one light left on the small far hill where someone must be living still. After life there must be life.

Rachel respected her father and inherited his hunger for learning. A diligent student, she and her siblings walked a kilometre every day to and from school, come rain or shine. They studied from 8 a.m. to 1.30 p.m. but were then free to read or play.

Al-Askarî gives examples of the high esteem shown to scholars and the important position in society they occupy, often in spite of their lowly origins which ordinarily would not have allowed them to advance far beyond their fathers’ menial situations. Much more numerous, and more interesting, are the anecdotes and remarks on the diffi culties that must be overcome on the road to knowledge. He cites the statement concerning the six qualities needed: a penetrating mind, much time, ability, hard work, a skilful teacher, and desire (or, in the parlance of our own time, “motivation,” shahwah). On his own, he adds the very elementary need for “nature,” that is, an inherited physical endowment, such as Muslim philologians of al-Askarî’s type always claimed as essential for their intellectual pursuits. The search for knowledge must be unselfi sh. As the author repeats over and over again, it is a never ending process. Persistent study sharpens the natural faculties. The hunger for knowledge is never stilled, as proclaimed by traditions ascribed to the Prophet. Stationariness means ultimate failure, according to the widely quoted saying that “man does not cease knowing as long as he studies, but once he gives up studying, he is the most ignorant of men.” Constant travel in search of knowledge and regular attendance at the teacher’s lectures are mandatory. The prospect of learning something not known before should make a man forget his home and his family and endure all possible hardships, as illustrated by an anecdote about al-Asmaî. Scholars refrain at times from certain foods as too luxurious or as harmful to the powers of memory. They study all night long.

5:3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to them. 5:4 “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. 5:5 “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. 5:6 “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied. 5:7 “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. 5:8 “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. 5:9 “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the children of God. 5:10 “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to them. 5:11 “Blessed are you when people insult you and persecute you and say all kinds of evil things about you falsely on account of me. 5:12 Rejoice and be glad because your reward is great in heaven, for they persecuted the prophets before you in the same way.

It's almost pathetic, that you're so thoroughly lacking in charm that Lisavet could never lower herself to love you. A low-ranking casttoff in the House of your birth—a bastard son, beloved by no one—and now the only way for you to realize your ambition is to pick at the leavings of another's inheritance like a vulture stripping meat from a bloated corpse. At least, that's what's rumored. Tell us, Ivor, is it true? Or would you prefer to forfeit in the interest of protecting what little remains of your dignity?

The judge was pained by the scene of them before they’d even properly embarked on the evening—two white-haired Fitzbillies in the corner of the club, water-stained durries, the grimacing head of a stuffed bear slipping low, half the stuffing fallen out. Wasps lived in the creature’s teeth, and moths lived in its fur, which also fooled some ticks that had burrowed in, confident of finding blood, and died of hunger.

  3  “Blessed are the poor in spirit,* for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.a   4  * Blessed are they who mourn,b for they will be comforted.   5  * Blessed are the meek,c for they will inherit the land.   6  Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness,* for they will be satisfied.   7  Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.d   8  * Blessed are the clean of heart,e for they will see God.   9  Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.   10  Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness,* for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.f   11  Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you [falsely] because of me.g   12  * Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven.h Thus they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

MAT5.1 And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain: and when he was set, his disciples came unto him:  MAT5.2 And he opened his mouth, and taught them, saying,  MAT5.3 Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. MAT5.4 Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. MAT5.5 Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. MAT5.6 Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. MAT5.7 Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. MAT5.8 Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. MAT5.9 Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God. MAT5.10 Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. MAT5.11 Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. MAT5.12 Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.

I had seen plenty of men and their cocks in my twenty-three years, and I wasn't convinced that buck naked was a man's best presentation

For example, just a little time feeling hunger and crying or feeling cold and fussing helps an infant/body know his or her own wants. If the caretaker is feeding the infant/body before it is even hungry, it loses contact with its instincts. And if the infant /body is kept from exploring, it does not get used to the world. The caretaker/you is reinforcing the impression that the world is threatening and the infant/body cannot survive out there. There are no opportunities to avoid, manage, or endure overarousal. Everything remains unfamiliar and overarousing. In terms of the previous chapter, the infant/body does not have enough successful approach experiences to balance the strong, inherited pause-to-check system that can take over and become too inhibiting.

How blissfulf the destitute, abjectg in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of the heavens; 4How blissful those who mourn, for they shall be aided; 5How blissful the gentle, for they shall inherit the earth; 6How blissful those who hunger and thirst for what is right, for they shall feast; 7How blissful the merciful, for they shall receive mercy; 8How blissful the pure in heart, for they shall see God; 9How blissful the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God; 10How blissful those who have been persecuted for the sake of what is right, for theirs is the Kingdom of the heavens; 11How blissful you when they reproach you, and persecute you and falsely accuse you of every evil for my sake: 12Rejoice and be glad, for your reward in the heavens is great; for thus they persecuted the prophets before you.

There is no chance for other matter in the stomach of a hungry person.

What’s new about Christian fasting is that it rests on all this finished work of the Bridegroom. It assumes that. It believes that. It enjoys that. The aching and yearning and longing for Christ and his power that drive us to fasting are not the expression of emptiness. Need, yes. Pain, yes. Hunger for God, yes. But not emptiness. The firstfruits of what we long for have already come. The down payment of what we yearn for is already paid. The fullness that we are longing for and fasting for has appeared in history, and we have beheld his glory. It is not merely future. We do not fast out of emptiness. Christ is already in us the hope of glory (Colossians 1:27). We have been “sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is [now!] the guarantee of our inheritance” (Ephesians 1:13–14; see also 2 Corinthians 1:22;5:5). We have tasted the powers of the age to come, and our fasting is not because we are hungry for something we have not experienced, but because the new wine of Christ’s presence is so real and so satisfying. We must have all that it is possible to have. The newness of our fasting is this: its intensity comes not because we have never tasted the wine of Christ’s presence, but because we have tasted it so wonderfully by his Spirit, and cannot now be satisfied until the consummation of joy arrives. The new fasting, the Christian fasting, is a hunger for all the fullness of God (Ephesians 3:19), aroused by the aroma of Jesus’ love and by the taste of God’s goodness in the gospel of Christ (1 Peter 2:2–3).

Know Your Ground Despite my blistered hands And calloused knuckles And over-taxed knees I cannot grow tomatoes It’s the soil, they said, Have your tested your levels? Calcium. Sand. Nitrogen. Clay. You must know your ground. But only lately have I walked this land Of my inheritance, Only recently looked At the wild mystery That lives beneath my toes, Only newly raked My fingers through earth And wondered, Is this bone that eroded To silt in my hand? Life that bled iron To fashion this bed? History that tastes So sweet on my tongue? In my frivolous hunger I surrendered my birthright. In your just disapproval I fled from my ground And now I fear this dormant soil Will never grow for me.

At the same time, she saw on the streets and subways of New York a depth of poverty unlike anything she'd ever witnessed in Europe, and realized that unemployment or even a poorly paid job in the US could lead to abject homelessness, hunger, and desperation. Compounding Partanen's anxiety was the fact that, while poverty was often visible, wealth frequently was not; she eventually realized that many of the people whom she thought of as her peers were not living on their earnings, but on inheritances or family support. Worst of all, it really did seem difficult to earn enough to own a home, send her kids to college, or have reliable health-care insurance. Paradoxically, as her insecurities added up, she found herself wanting to spend more money, rather than less. 'It was striking to me that I, who had grown up in a Nordic country and had not felt that before, got caught up in it quite quickly after moving to America. I felt like I should be consuming more,' Partanen said, 'You want to buy more things that will make you feel like you're making it, and like you are safe.

In general, the prevalence of secure attachment is low across all diagnostic subgroups of eating disorders. In addition to individuals with such acquired deficits in affect regulation, however, there are individuals with inherited deficits in their neurobiological functions that may predispose them to affective dysregulation (Barry et al. 2008; Belsky 2006). We can conceive of persons with eating disorders as attempting to drown out anguished feelings by frantic self-stimulatory activities. This could be seen as a common denominator to such behaviours as starvation, bingeing, vomiting and hyperactivity. The absence of reliable internal self-regulation may cause the eating disordered patient to feel inadequate, ineffective and out of control. The symptoms can be seen as misguided attempts to organize emotions and other internal states more meaningfully.