Injustice Clash Quotes

If there are gods, why is the world so full of pain and injustice?' 'Because of men like you.

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If there are gods, why is the world so full of pain and injustice?" "Because of men like you." "There are no men like me. There's only me.

The trap of resentment. It is probably the worst mental prison in the world. It is the inability to let go of anger and the perceived or real injustices we suffer. Some people let one or two, or maybe ten unpleasant experiences poison the rest of their lives. They let their anger ferment and rot their personality. They end up seeing themselves as victims of their parents, teachers, their peers and preachers.

If there are gods, why is the world so full of pain and injustice?

And how does one know that God is just? Because God stood against the Egyptian Empire to save some doomed slaves. God does not simply prefer Jews to Egyptians. God does not simply prefer slaves to masters. The only true God prefers justice to injustice, righteousness to unrighteousness, and is therefore God the Liberator. That very ancient Jewish tradition was destined to clash profoundly and fiercely with Roman commercialization, urbanization, and monetization in the first-century Jewish homeland.

Do you ever feel that same need? Your life is so very different from my own. The grandness of the world, the real world, the whole world, is a known thing for you. And you have no need of dispatches because you have seen so much of the American galaxy and its inhabitants—their homes, their hobbies—up close. I don’t know what it means to grow up with a black president, social networks, omnipresent media, and black women everywhere in their natural hair. What I know is that when they loosed the killer of Michael Brown, you said, “I’ve got to go.” And that cut me because, for all our differing worlds, at your age my feeling was exactly the same. And I recall that even then I had not yet begun to imagine the perils that tangle us. You still believe the injustice was Michael Brown. You have not yet grappled with your own myths and narratives and discovered the plunder everywhere around us. Before I could discover, before I could escape, I had to survive, and this could only mean a clash with the streets, by which I mean not just physical blocks, nor simply the people packed into them, but the array of lethal puzzles and strange perils that seem to rise up from the asphalt itself. The streets transform every ordinary day into a series of trick questions, and every incorrect answer risks a beat-down, a shooting, or a pregnancy. No one survives unscathed. And yet the heat that springs from the constant danger, from a lifestyle of near-death experience, is thrilling. This is what the rappers mean when they pronounce themselves addicted to “the streets” or in love with “the game.” I imagine they feel something akin to parachutists, rock climbers, BASE jumpers, and others who choose to live on the edge. Of course we chose nothing. And I have never believed the brothers who claim to “run,” much less “own,” the city. We did not design the streets. We do not fund them. We do not preserve them. But I was there, nevertheless, charged like all the others with the protection of my body. The crews, the young men who’d transmuted their fear into rage, were the greatest danger. The crews walked the blocks of their neighborhood, loud and rude, because it was only through their loud rudeness that they might feel any sense of security and power. They would break your jaw, stomp your face, and shoot you down to feel that power, to revel in the might of their own bodies.

The indissoluble clashing between justice and injustice does not fluctuate, it is perpetual.

And that was why the dogs were necessary. They were important, a balancing act, an interface, a safety buffer against instant, face-to-face, mortal clashes of loathsome and self-loathsome emotions, the very type that erupt in seconds between individuals, between clans, between nations, between sexes, doing irreversible damage all around. To stay it, to evade it, to push away those bad memories, all that pain and history and deterioration of character, you hear the barking, the onset of that savage, tribal barking, and you know then to wait indoors - quarter of an hour thereabouts - to let that soldiery go its way. In that manner you don't come into contact, you don't have to feel the powerlessness, the injustice, or worst of all, how you - a normal, ordinary, very nice human being - could want to kill or take relief at a killing.

There exists an inherent power that has the ability to shape societies, challenge the status quo, and ignite the flames of progress. It is within the pages of books that this power finds its most potent expression, for they are the vessels of knowledge, the repositories of wisdom, and the catalysts of transformation. Therefore, any attempt to ban books is not just an assault on the written word, but an assault on the very essence of freedom, intellect, and human dignity. Book banning is an act of intellectual tyranny, born out of fear, ignorance, and the desire to stifle dissent. It is a desperate attempt to control the narrative, to manipulate minds, and to maintain a stranglehold on power. By banning books, we deny ourselves the opportunity to engage in a rich tapestry of ideas, perspectives, and experiences that have the potential to broaden our horizons, challenge our assumptions, and foster empathy. History has taught us that book banning is a tool of oppressive regimes, for it seeks to suppress voices that question authority, challenge injustice, and advocate for change. It is an insidious tactic that seeks to create a uniformity of thought, a homogeneity of ideas, and a society devoid of critical thinking and independent thought. In essence, book banning is an assault on the very foundations of democracy, for it undermines the principles of free speech, intellectual diversity, and the right to access information. We must remember that the power of books lies not only in their ability to educate and enlighten but also in their capacity to provoke discomfort, challenge prevailing norms, and spark dialogue. It is through the clash of ideas, the exploration of different perspectives, and the confrontation of opposing viewpoints that societies evolve, progress, and chart a path towards a more just and equitable future. Book banning is an act of intellectual cowardice, for it seeks to shield individuals from ideas that might be uncomfortable, inconvenient, or challenging. But it is precisely in these moments of discomfort that growth, empathy, and understanding emerge. By denying ourselves the opportunity to confront difficult ideas, we deny ourselves the chance to question our own beliefs, expand our intellectual horizons, and ultimately, evolve as individuals and as a society.

AS LONG AS YOU LIVE BY YOUR OLD NATURE YOU WILL BE open to all of the injustices of men. Your temper will get you into fights, your passions will clash with your neighbors, your desires will be like tender spots open to your enemies’ arrows. Everything will be against you—attacking you from all sides. If you live at the mercy of a crowd of greedy and hungry desires, then you will never find peace. You will never be satisfied because everything will bother you. You will be like an invalid who has been bedridden for many years—anywhere you are touched you will feel pain. Your self-love is terribly touchy. No matter how slightly it is insulted, it screams, “Murderer.” Add to this all the insensitivity of others, their disgust at your weakness (and your disgust at theirs), and you have the children of Adam forever tormenting each other. The only hope is to come out of yourself. Lose all your selfinterest. Only then can you enjoy the true peace reserved for “men of good will.” Such people have no other will but God’s. If you come to such a place, then what can harm you? You will no longer be attacked through your hopes or fears. You may be worried, inconvenienced, or distressed, but you can rest in Him. Love the hand that disciplines you. Find peace in all things—even in going to the cross. Be happy

COME OUT OF YOURSELF AS LONG AS YOU LIVE BY YOUR OLD NATURE YOU WILL BE open to all of the injustices of men. Your temper will get you into fights, your passions will clash with your neighbors, your desires will be like tender spots open to your enemies’ arrows. Everything will be against you—attacking you from all sides. If you live at the mercy of a crowd of greedy and hungry desires, then you will never find peace. You will never be satisfied because everything will bother you. You will be like an invalid who has been bedridden for many years—anywhere you are touched you will feel pain. Your self-love is terribly touchy. No matter how slightly it is insulted, it screams, “Murderer.” Add to this all the insensitivity of others, their disgust at your weakness (and your disgust at theirs), and you have the children of Adam forever tormenting each other. The only hope is to come out of yourself. Lose all your selfinterest. Only then can you enjoy the true peace reserved for “men of good will.” Such people have no other will but God’s. If you come to such a place, then what can harm you? You will no longer be attacked through your hopes or fears. You may be worried, inconvenienced, or distressed, but you can rest in Him. Love the hand that disciplines you. Find peace in all things—even in going to the cross. Be happy with what you have. Wish for nothing more. Surrender to God and find true peace. —Fénelon LIVE DAY BY DAY YOUR SPIRITUAL WALK IS A LITTLE TOO RESTLESS AND uneasy.

If there are gods, why is the world so full of pain and injustice?” “Because of men like you.” “There are no men like me. There's only me.