Isa Quotes

Hikayatin mo lahat ng kakilala mo na magkaroon ng kahit isa man lang paboritong libro sa buhay nila. Dahil wala nang mas kawawa pa sa mga taong literado pero hindi nagbabasa.

Kung matatakot kang harapin ang totoo at sabihin ang talagang nararamdaman mo dahil baka masaktan ka, isa lang ibig sabihin noon: ipinagkait mo na sa sarili mo ang pagiging masaya at kinarir mo ang magpakatanga.

Love is—a shade of what I feel.

Me quota ang pag-ibig. Sa bawat limang umiibig, isa lang ang magiging maligaya. Ang iba, iibig sa di sila iniibig. Iibig nang di natututo. O iibig sa wala. O di iibig kailanman.

This is what our love is––a sacred pattern of unbroken unity sewn flawlessly invisible inside all other images, thoughts, smells, and sounds.

The point is—as far as the Society is concerned—if you are not honest, and determined, and brave, then it doesn’t matter how talented you are.

In the moonlight which is always sad, as the light of the sun itself is--as the light called human life is--at its coming and its going.

That's what living in their world is-a big lie. An illusion where everyone looks the other way and pretends that nothing unpleasant exists at all, no goblins of the dark, no ghosts of the soul.

Seems like "all systems go" na 'di ba? Super compatible. Gusto n'yo ang isa't-isa. Pero 'yan ang mga nakakatakot. 'Yung akala mo okay lahat, sabay 'pag sinabi mong mahal mo s'ya. *blam!* Guguho lahat.

Isa pa, pwede nga ring yung TV talaga ang may sumpa. Dahil ang TV, para ring drugs, pero ligal. Isipin mo, bakit isa ito sa mga unang-unang pinupundar ng mga Pilipino kahit gaano sila kahirap? Kasi malaking tulong ang telebisyon para lumimot. Para tumakas sa realidad.

Hikayatin mo lahat ng mga kakilala mo na magkaroon ng kahit isa man lang paboritong libro sa buong buhay nila. Dahil wala nang mas nakakaawa pa sa mga taong literado pero hindi nagbabasa...bilang tao, may karne sa loob ng bungo mo na nangangailangan ng sustansya.

Nalilimot ng bawat isa sa inyo na habang napag-iingatan ang isang bayan ang kaniyang wika, napag-iingatan din nito ang katibayan ng kaniyang paglaya, katulad ng pagpapanatili ng isang tao sa kaniyang kasarinlan, upang mapanatili niya ang kaniyang sariling paraan ng pag-iisip. Ang wika ang pag-iisip ng bayan.

Steampunk is...a joyous fantasy of the past, allowing us to revel in a nostalgia for what never was. It is a literary playground for adventure, spectacle, drama, escapism and exploration. But most of all it is fun!

belajarlah dalam kesabaran Ayub berjalanlah bersama keberanian Ibrahim bacalah semesta melalui kecerdasan Sulaiman taklukkan angkuh dunia dengan ketangguhan Musa himpunlah semua kebijaksanaan Yakub katakanlah kebenaran semerdu suara Daud kasihilah sesama sepenuh cinta Isa lalu masukilah kebeningan dirimu bersama ketakwaan Muhammad

When someone you love dies, you are given the gift of "second chances". Their eulogy is a reminder that the living can turn their lives around at any point. You’re not bound by the past; that is who you used to be. You’re reminded that your feelings are not who you are, but how you felt at that moment. Your bad choices defined you yesterday, but they are not who you are today. Your future doesn’t have to travel the same path with the same people. You can start over. You don’t have to apologize to people that won’t listen. You don’t have to justify your feelings or actions, during a difficult time in your life. You don’t have to put up with people that are insecure and want you to fail. All you have to do is walk forward with a positive outlook, and trust that God has a plan that is greater than the sorrow you left behind. The people of quality that were meant to be in your life won’t need you to explain the beauty of your heart. They already understand what being human is----a roller coaster ride of emotions during rainstorms and sunshine, sprinkled with moments when you can almost reach the stars.

She scares the hell out of me and calms my soul at the same time. Maybe that’s what love is—a total contradiction that somehow balances out.

Those who carry the vessels of the Lord must be clean, must be holy (Isa. 52:11).

Sometimes it's hard to wait for good things to happen. - Tia Isa

The pitifulest thing out is a mob; that's what an army is--a mob; they don't fight with courage that's born in them, but with courage that's borrowed from their mass, and from their officers. But a mob without any MAN at the head of it is BENEATH pitifulness.

All three combined is...a different kind of stupid formerly unheard of by humankind.

My religion starts with “Isa” and ends with “Bella,” and I’d worship at her altar every night. Blessed be the meal I’m about to eat and all that.

Tee tööd ja näe vaeva, siis tuleb ka armastus,” ütles isa. Sina oled teind ja minu ema tegi teda ka, ega muidu nii vara surnud; aga armastus ei tulnd, teda pole tänini Vargamäel.” // Aga mis siis on? Küsib Andres endalt, ega tea vastust.

Don’t listen to Glennie,” Isa says and pats Arrov’s forearm—that’s as high as she can reach. Bella adds, “You’ll change back to your old and handsome self soon.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, Nor shall the flame scorch you. (Isa. 43:2)

Find magic in the little things, and the big things you always expected will start to show up.

The more you believe in yourself, the more the world believes in you!

That is what capitalism is—a version of feudalism in which capital replaces land, and business leaders replace kings. But the hierarchy remains. And so we still hand over our lives’ labor, under duress, to feed rulers who do no real work.

I'm a spiritual person, she said. "I believe in Allah, you know, though I don't always call It 'Allah' and I pray the way I want to pray. Sometimes I just look out at the stars and this love-fear thing comes over me, you know? And sometimes I might sit in a Christian church listening to them talk about Isa with a book of Hafiz in my hands instead of the hymnal. And you know what, Yusef? Sometimes, every once in a while, I get out my old rug and I pray like Muhammad prayed. I never learned the shit in Arabic and my knees are uncovered, but if Allah has a problem with that then what kind of Allah do we believe in?

Of course you are. Then you're going to give me multiple orgasms and pay off my mortgage too. I saw this movie, pal. It was in the fantasy section. (Isa)

A cell phone rings. I can feel the vibration through Brittany’s pants. “It’s hers,” I say. “Answer it,” Isa Instructs. I already feel like I’ve kidnapped the girl. Now I’m gonna answer her cell? Shit. Rolling her a bit, I feel for the bulge in her back pocket. “Contesta,” Isa whispers loudly, this time in Spanish. “I am,” I hiss, my fingers clumsy as I fumble for the phone. “I’ll do it,” Paco says, leaning over the seats and reaching toward Brittany’s ass. I whack his hand away. “Get your hands off her.” “Geez, man, I was just tryin’ to help.” My response is a glare.

Human existence basically is──a never to be completed imperfect tense.

Kung sana nga, naging ingrown na lang ng kuko ang pagmamahal na ito at kahit isa-isahin ko ang manikurista sa buong Pinas, matanggal lang ang lintek na pag-ibig na ito.

We should celebrate. We each married a sadistic killer.” His head tilted toward Isa as we drank our coffee. “I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard she ends up with.

Learn to appreciate loneliness for the gift that it truly is—a chance for God to finally get you alone so He can go to work on building a relationship with you.

For resurrection faith means courage to revolt against the "covenant with death" (Isa. 28:15), it means hope for the victory of life which shall swallow up and conquer life-devouring death. ~ p.14

How old are you?" Isa gasped. Okay, so she hadn't gotten around to asking some things. "One hundred and forty-three," Chance supplied, giving her a quick kiss. "But don't worry, darling. I don't feel a day over the century mark.

Three erotic paintings by Isa - $ 20K; chasing said artist in Benz SLS Coupe - $ 195K; the look on her face right at this moment - PRICELESS.

Ang pag-ibig parang rubber band na hawak ng dalawang tao on both ends. Kapag bumitaw yung isa, yung nag-hold on ang masasaktan.

If you’re gay how come you don’t dress better?” . . . “I’m undercover,” he answered. "Obviously. I’m reporting back tonight on how best to attack the heterosexual hockey male demographic.

Thank you, Glenna, that means a . . .” Arrov says, and his voice trails off when he notices that the twins are busy combing the long fur on his forearms. “What are you two doing?!”
“Just because you are a big blue giant,” Isa says, focused on her undertaking, “doesn’t mean you can stop taking care of your appearance.” “This will help get rid of those horrible knots,” Bella adds, still administering the beauty regimen.

…the whole world [is]a big, noisy puppet show meant to distract us from the fact that at the end, you’ll die, and you’ll probably be alone.

Who sees all beings in his own self and his own self in all beings, loses all fear.

See this?" Isa pulled something dark and oblong out of her purse. Chance's mouth twitched. "Turbo Vagisil?" "No, it's a taser!

legalists and theological experts with “lips close to God and hearts far away from him” (Isa. 29:13). The world hardly needs more of these.

...pwede nga ring yung TV ang may sumpa. dahil ang TV, para ring drugs, pero ligal. isipin mo, bakit isa ito sa mga unang-unang ipinupundar ng mga Pilipino kahit gaano sila kahirap? kasi malaking tulong ang telebisyon para lumimot. para tumakas sa realidad. kahit mag-isa ka lang sa bahay, nababawasan ang lungkot kung may TV. nakakatanggal-buryong kung wala kang trabaho. mas entertaining kesa sa diyaryo, at mas accessible kesa sa sine. pwede rin itong tagapag-alaga ng mga anak mo. pwedeng ulam kung sakto lang ang budget pambili ng ng bigas. at pwedeng bintana kung parang bartolina lang ang tirahang tinutulugan ng mag-anak mo, dahil may magaganda itong lugar at magagandang tao. kumpleto sa sayawan, kantahan, tawanan, pantasya, at boksing. burado ang mga suliranin mo. pag sinuswerte ka, pwede ka pang manalo.

So I guess this means Domme Isa will be retired for a while until he feels satiated. But I’ll be damned if she’ll be retired forever. I want to know the real Dylan because apparently I’ve only been fucking his representative.

To be a good soldier you must love the army. But to be a good officer you must be willing to order the death of the thing you love. That is … a very hard thing to do. No other profession requires it. That is one reason why there are so very few good officers. Although there are many good men.

Young man, be of good courage. Care not for what the world says or thinks: you will not be with the world always. Can man save your soul? No. Will man be your judge in the great and dreadful day of account? No. Can man give you a good conscience in life, a good hope in death, a good answer in the morning of resurrection? No! no! no! Man can do nothing of the sort. Then "fear not the reproach of men, neither be afraid of their revilings: for the moth shall eat them up like a garment, and the worm shall eat them like wool" (Isa. 51:7,8). Call to your mind the saying of good Colonel Gardiner: "I fear God, and therefore I have none else to fear." Go and be like him.

This is a completely heterosexual bro-hug that I offer in a totally nongay way to all my hockey brothers.

I don't believe any real artists have ever been non-political. They may have been insensitive to this particular plight or insensitive to that, but they were political, because that's what an artist is―a politician.

The wise man beholds all beings in the Self and the Self in all beings; for that reason he does not hate anyone.

War is…a violent teacher?

Paradox is an overrated threat. There is...a quality similar to inertia at work. Once an event has occurred, there is an extremely strong tendency for that event to occur. The larger, more significant, or more energetic the event, the more it tends to remain as it originally happened, despite any interference." I frowned. "There's...a law of conservation of history?

I had a book of Bible stories when I was a kid. There was a picture I'd look at twenty times every day: Jacob wrestles with the angel. I don't really remember the story, or why the wrestling --just the picture. Jacob is young and very strong. The angel is...a beautiful man, with golden hair and wings, of course. I still dream about it. Many nights. I'm...It's me. In that struggle. Fierce, and unfair. The angel is not human, and it holds nothing back, so how could anyone human win, what kind of a fight is that? It's not just. Losing means your soul thrown down in the dust, your heart torn out from God's. But you can't not lose.

go back to Allah and Rosulnya

To do it all and deprive others of doing is...a misguided notion.

Ang mga sagot ngayo'y baon-baon mo na sa kung saan ka man papunta. Sa paglisan mo ngayon, hindi ka na talaga babalik. Babalik ka man sa aking isip, nakaapak pa rin ako sa lupa kung saan bawat buhos ng ulan ay magsisimula akong mangarap muli. Ako na lang, mag-isa.

Manakah yang besar penderitaan kita dengan penderitaan Nabi Adam? Yang di dalam surga bersenang-senang dengan istrinya, lalu disuruh ke luar. Dan manakah yang susah penderitaan kita dengan penderitaan Nabi Nuh, yang menyeru umat kepada Islam, padahal anaknya sendiri tidak mau mengikuti? Sehingga seketika disuruh Tuhan segala ahli kerabatnya naik perahu, anak itu tidak ikut. Malah ikut karam dengam orang banyak di dalam gulungan banjir. Di hadapan matanya! Dan kemudian datang pula vonis Tuhan bahwa anak itu bukan keluarganya. Pernahkah kita lihat cobaan serupa yang ditanggung Ibrahim? Disuruh menyembelih anak untuk ujian, ke manakah dia lebih cinta, kepada Tuhannyakah atau kepada anaknya? Yakub dipisahkan dari Yusufnya. Yusuf diperdayakan seorang perempuan. Ayub ditimpa penyakit yang parah. Daud dan Sulaiman kena bermacam-macam fitnah. Demikian juga Zakaria dan Yahya. Yang memberikan jiwa mereka untuk korban keyakinan. Isa al-Masih pun demikian pula. Muhammad lebih-lebih lagi. Pernahkah mereka mengeluh? Tidak, karena mereka yakin bahwa kepercayaan kepada Tuhan menghendaki perjuangan dan keteguhan. Mereka tidak menuntut kemenangan lahir. Sebab mereka menang terus. Mereka memikul beban seberat itu, menjadi Rasul Allah, memikul perintah Tuhan karena cintakan manusia. Oleh karena itu mereka tempuh kesusahan, pertama membuktikan cinta akan Tuhan, kedua menggembleng batin, ketiga karna rahim yang sayang dan segenap umat.hal. 79

It is there within and among us, for we are ordained of God to be people of hope. It is there by virtue of our being in the image of the promissory God. It is sealed there in the sacrament of baptism. It is dramatized in the Eucharist—“until he come.” It is the structure of every creed that ends by trusting in God’s promises. Hope is the decision to which God invites Israel, a decision against despair, against permanent consignment to chaos (Isa 45:18), oppression, barrenness, and exile.

God cares only for what is his, busies himself with only himself, thinks only of himself, and has only himself before his eyes...He serves no higher person, and satisfies only himself. His cause is--A purely egoistic cause.

Ilang dantaon po mula ngayon, kapag naliwanagan at natubos na ang sangkatauhan, kapag wala nang mga lahi, kapag malaya na ang lahat ng mga bayan, kapag wala nang nang-aalipin at napaaalipin, mga kolonya at mga metropolis, kapag naghahari na ang iisang katarungan at ang bawat isa'y mamamayan na ng daigdig, tanging ang pagsampalataya po sa siyensiya ang malalabi. Magiging singkahulugan ng bulag na pagsamba ang patriyotismo at sinumang magmagaling na nagtataglay ng katangiang ito ay walang alinlangang ibibilanggo na tulad ng isang may nakahahawang sakit, isang manliligalig sa kaayusang lipunan.

And we neglect the glorious gospel when we fail to recognize his preeminence. How frequently we forget that everything is for him and about him. We forget that he is to be first, in our honor and in our worship. Whenever the gospel slips from our conscious thought, our religion becomes all about our performance, and then we think everything that happens or will ever happen isa bout us. When I forget the incarnation, sinless life, death, resurrection, and ascension, I quickly believe that I'm supposed to be the unrivaled supreme, and matchless one. It's at this point that I'm particularly in need of an intravenous dose of gospel truth. He is preeminent.

The most important thing to remember is that the safe word is for the client; you bring mace.

You thought giving a depressed prostitute a copy of Pretty Woman might help?

The Resurrection of Jesus is...a symbol of hope...I don't see how you can show love...without being in solidarity with the victims of this world. And if you are in solidarity with the victims, I don't see how you can avoid the cross. The theology of the cross is the theology of love in our real world.

Living long is a gift denied to many, and so it comes with a responsibility to make the most of it. At very least to appreciate it. People gripe about growing older—their aches and pains, how much harder everything is—as if they had forgotten that the alternative is dying young.

Look,” he said, “life has never been fair, and yet you continue to operate as if it is—as if once you get a few wrongs straightened out, everything else will fall into place. They won’t. You want my advice?” And before she could say no, he added, “Don’t work the system. Outsmart it.

Mag-sorry kung ikaw ang may kasalanan. Kung hindi naman, ikaw ang unang mag-reach out. I-tae sa kubeta ang lecheng pride. Kung simpleng away lang naman, kabobohan ang patagalin o palalain pa ito. Tandaan, walang perpektong relasyon. Pero ang "pagbabati" mula sa isang away, ang isa sa pinakamatamis na bahagi nito.

Hendaklah engkau jadi orang besar, yang sanggup memikul cinta yang besar. Kalau tak begitu, engkau akan beroleh cinta yang rendah dan murah, engkau menjadi pencium bumi, engkau akan jatuh ke bawah, tak jadi naik ke dalam benteng yang kuat dan teguh...yang sukar tertempuh oleh manusia biasa

Everything is at its best when it's doing exactly what it was created for. A lamp gives light. An apple gives sustenance and refreshment. A chair is perfect in being exactly what it is--a chair.

I won’t share you, Dylan. I mean that. If you think for one second now that we’re married, you can try and pull some kind of shit over on me, you’d better think again. I can take whatever you can dish out when it comes to pain, embarrassment and humiliation, and whatever else you have going on in that wicked mind of yours, but I’ll be damned if I’ll share you with another woman. Or man.” What the fuck? I almost laugh at her, but she’s so serious she would probably slap the shit out of me. “Calm the hell down. I’m not trying to pull anything over on you, okay? And seriously, a man?” “Well, I don’t know. Maybe one of your secrets is that you like getting pegged in the ass or something.” This time I laugh out loud at her and she narrows her eyes at me. "Don’t ask me to peg you either, because it’s never going to happen.” I laugh even louder. Good God this woman is funny. “I promise you that I don’t want to be pegged, Isa.

I barely duck out of the way of an empty coffee mug flying dangerously close to my head. It crashes and breaks loudly near the marble fireplace and Isa stomps into our bedroom. What the living fuck? Of course, the pussy-whipped jackass that I am, I follow her like a puppy dog, five steps behind her pouting ass. I make it to the bedroom in time to have the door promptly slammed in my face.

There is a saying that "paper is more patient than man";it came back to me on one of my slightly melancholy days,while I sat chin in hand,feeling too bored and limp even to make up my mind whether to go out or stay at home. Yes, there is no doubt that paper is patient and as I don't intend to show this cardboard-covered notebook,bearing the proud name of"diary",to anyone,unless I find a real friend,boy or girl,probably nobody cares.And now I come to the root of the matter,the reason for my starting a diary:it is that I have no such real friend. Let me put it more clearly,since no one will believe that a girl of thirteen feels herself quite alone in the world,nor is it so.I have darling parents and a sister of sixteen.I know about thirty people whom one might call friends--I have strings of boy friends,anxious to catch a glimpse of me and who,failing that,peep at me through mirrors in class.I have relations,aunts and uncles,who are darlings too,a good home,no--I don't seem to lack anything.But it's the same with all my friends,just fun and joking,nothing more.I can never bring myself to talk of anything outside the common round.We don't seem to be able to get any closer,that is the root of the trouble.Perhaps I lack confidence,but anyway,there it is,a stubborn fact and I don't seem to be able to do anything about it.

One of the most memorably unexpected events I experienced in the course of doing this book came in a dissection room at the University of Nottingham in England when a professor and surgeon named Ben Ollivere (about whom much more in due course) gently incised and peeled back a sliver of skin about a millimeter thick from the arm of a cadaver. It was so thin as to be translucent. “That,” he said, “is where all your skin color is. That’s all that race is—a sliver of epidermis.” I mentioned this to Nina Jablonski when we met in her office in State College, Pennsylvania, soon afterward. She gave a nod of vigorous assent. “It is extraordinary how such a small facet of our composition is given so much importance,” she said. “People act as if skin color is a determinant of character when all it is is a reaction to sunlight. Biologically, there is actually no such thing as race—nothing in terms of skin color, facial features, hair type, bone structure, or anything else that is a defining quality among peoples. And yet look how many people have been enslaved or hated or lynched or deprived of fundamental rights through history because of the color of their skin.

The forbidden cabinet. The forbidden fruit. That fruit is—a volume, a huge blue-lilac volume with a gold inscription slantwise: Collected Works of A.S. Pushkin. I read the fat Pushkin in the cabinet with my nose in the book and on the shelf, almost in darkness and almost right up against it and even a little bit suffocated by his weight that came right into the throat, and almost blinded by the nearness of the tiny letters. I read Pushkin right into the chest and right into the brain.

He "binds up the broken-hearted" (Isa. 61:1). As a mother is tenderest toward the most diseased and weakest child, so does Christ most mercifully incline to the weakest. Likewise he puts an instinct into the weakest things to rely upon something stronger than themselves for support. The vine steadies itself upon the elm, and the weakest creatures often have the strongest shelters. The consciousness of the church's weakness makes her willing to lean on her Beloved and to hide herself under his wing.

life has never been fair, and yet you continue to operate as if it is—as if once you get a few wrongs straightened out, everything else will fall into place. They won’t. You want my advice?” And before she could say no, he added, “Don’t work the system. Outsmart it.

He wants rough, hard, violent, dangerous sex. He craves it. We could psychoanalyze this all night, but I doubt it would do any good. Logan can no more justify his attraction to a smack across the face than I can explain how empty life feels without waterproof kohl liner.

Thought and cognition are not the same. Thought, the source of art works, is manifest without transformation or transfiguration in all great philosophy, whereas the chief manifestation of the cognitive processes, by which we acquire and store up knowledge, is the sciences. Cognition always pursues a definite aim, which can be set by practical considerations as well as by “idle curiosity”; but once this aim is reached, the cognitive process has come to an end. Thought, on the contrary, has neither an end nor an aim outside itself, and it does not even produce results; not only the utilitarian philosophy of homo faber but also the men of action and the lovers of results in the sciences have never tired of pointing out how entirely “useless” thought is—as useless, indeed, as the works of art it inspires.

pwede nga ring yung TV ang may sumpa. dahil ang TV, para ring drugs, pero ligal. isipin mo, bakit isa ito sa mga unang-unang ipinupundar ng mga Pilipino kahit gaano sila kahirap? kasi malaking tulong ang telebisyon para lumimot. para tumakas sa realidad. kahit mag-isa ka lang sa bahay, nababawasan ang lungkot kung may TV. nakakatanggal-buryong kung wala kang trabaho. mas entertaining kesa sa diyaryo, at mas accessible kesa sa sine. pwede rin itong tagapag-alaga ng mga anak mo. pwedeng ulam kung sakto lang ang budget pambili ng ng bigas. at pwedeng bintana kung parang bartolina lang ang tirahang tinutulugan ng mag-anak mo, dahil may magaganda itong lugar at magagandang tao. kumpleto sa sayawan, kantahan, tawanan, pantasya, at boksing. burado ang mga suliranin mo. pag sinuswerte ka, pwede ka pang manalo.

Prudence: And what is it that makes you so desirous to go to Mount Zion? Christian: Why, there I hope to see Him alive that did hang dead on the cross; and there I hope to be rid of all those things that to this day are in me an annoyance to me: there they say there is no death, Isa. 25:8; Rev. 21:4; and there I shall dwell with such company as I like best. For, to tell you the truth, I love Him because I was by Him eased of my burden; and I am weary of my inward sickness. I would fain be where I shall die no more, and with the company that shall continually cry, Holy, holy, holy.

I write because it’s a way of puzzling out answers to situations in the world that I don’t understand. The act of writing a book gives me the same experience that I hope reading it gives readers. It forces me to sort through the various points of view on a given issue or situation and ultimately come to a conclusion. Doing that might not change my mind, but it almost always gives me a stronger sense of why my opinion is what it is—a question we rarely ask ourselves.

Ich dachte daran, dass es jetzt nicht mehr lange dauern würde, bis ich Tschick in seinem Heim besuchen konnte, und ich dachte an Isas Brief. Auch an Horst Fricke und sein Carpe diem musste ich denken. Ich dachte an das Gewitter über dem Weizenfeld, an Pflegeschwester Hanna und den Geruch von grauem Linoleum. Ich dachte, dass ich das alles ohne Tschick nie erlebt hätte in diesem Sommer und dass es ein toller Sommer gewesen war, der beste Sommer von allen, und an all das dachte ich, während wir da die Luft anhielten und durch das silberne Schillern und die Blasen hindurch nach oben guckten, wo sich zwei Uniformen ratlos über die Wasseroberfläche beugten und in einer stummen, fernen Sprache miteinander redeten, in einer anderen Welt - und ich freute mich wahnsinnig. Weil, man kann zwar nicht ewig Luft anhalten. Aber doch ziemlich lange.

Snow is...a beautiful reminder of life and all its quirks. It makes me pause. Think. Stay still. Even my mind takes the hint. It makes me feel giddy. Like a kid. I bring my hot cocoa to the window and simply sit and reminisce...It brings me back to days of school cancellations and snow igloos and King of the Mountain games in my childhood neighborhood...That for this one moment in time, I’m not an adult with all the headaches that can accompany that responsibility, but instead, I’m still the girl in pigtails with the handmade hat and mittens, just waiting to build her next snowman.

You're a beautiful young woman walking without an escort at one in the morning. Why doesn't one of your staff at least see you to your car?" "Because they're not sexist pigs who think women are incapable of taking care of themselves." Chance rolled his eyes. "This has nothing to do with feminism. I'm all for gender equality, but the fact remains that women are targeted for more specific crimes than men, and the perpetrators of those crimes often look for circumstances such as these to attack." "See this?" Isa pulled something dark and oblong out of her purse. Chance's mouth twitched. "Turbo Vagisil?" "No, It's a taser!" Isa said indignantly. "I can take care of myself, Chance. I've been doing that just fine for the past twenty-nine and a half years before you showed up, remember?

Yes. I—I can't help liking her—just a little bit! She's not an ungenerous nature; and I am so glad her difficulties have all suddenly ended." She explained how Arabella had been summoned back, and would be enabled to retrieve her position. "I was referring to our old question. What Arabella has been saying to me has made me feel more than ever how hopelessly vulgar an institution legal marriage is—a sort of trap to catch a man—I can't bear to think of it. I wish I hadn't promised to let you put up the banns this morning!

They rode for a while in silence, a tiny island in the smoky stream of marching men. Then Lee said slowly, in a strange, soft, slow tone of voice, "Soldiering has one great trap." Longstreet turned to see his face. Lee was riding slowly ahead, without expression. He spoke in that same slow voice. "To be a good soldier you must love the army. But to be a good officer you must be willing to order the death of the thing you love. This is...a very hard thing to do. No other profession requires it. That is one reason why there are so very few good officers. Although there are many good men." Lee rarely lectured. Longstreet sensed a message beyond it. He waited. Lee said, "We don't fear our own deaths, you and I." He smiled slightly, then glanced away. "We protect ourselves out of military necessity, not do not protect yourself enough and must give thought to it. I need you. But the point is, we are afraid to die. We are prepared for our own deaths, and for the deaths of comrades. We learn that at the Point. But I have seen this happen: we are not prepared for as many deaths as we have to face, inevitably as the war goes on. There comes a time..." He paused. He had been gazing straight ahead, away from Longstreet. Now, black-eyed, he turned back, glanced once quickly into Longstreet's eyes, then looked away. "We are never prepared for so many to die. So you understand? No one is. We expect some chosen few. We expect an occasional empty chair, a toast to dear departed comrades. Victory celebrations for most of us, a hallowed death for a few. But the war goes on. And the men die. The price gets ever higher. Some officers...can pay no longer. We are prepared to lose some of us." He paused again. "But never ALL of us. Surely not all of us. But...that is the trap. You can hold nothing back when you attack. You must commit yourself totally. And yet ,if they all die, a man must ask himself, will it have been worth it?

It is possible that our present-day discussion about needs might be framed more by secular psychological theories than by Scripture. If this is so, we should be careful about saying, "Jesus meets all our needs." At first, this has a plausible biblical ring to it. Christ _is_a friend; God _is_ a loving Father; Christians _do_ experience a sense of meaningfulness and confidence in knowing God's love. It makes Christ the answer to our problems. Yet if our use of the term "needs" is ambiguous, and its range of meaning extends all the way to selfish desires, then there will be some situations where we should say that Jesus does not intend to meet our needs, but that he intends to change our needs.

He who for us is life itself descended here and endured our death and slew it by the abundance of his life. In a thunderous voice he called us to return to him, at that secret place where he came forth to us. First he came into the Virgin's womb where the human creation was married to him, so that mortal flesh should not for ever be mortal. Coming forth from thence 'as a bridegroom from his marriage bed, he bounded like a giant to run his course' (Ps 18:6). He did not delay, but ran crying out loud by his words, deeds, death, life, descent, and ascent—calling us to return to him. And he has gone from our sight that we should 'return to our heart' (Isa 46:8) and find him there. He went away and behold, here he is. He did not wish to remain long with us, yet he did not abandon us. He has gone to that place which he never left, 'for the world was made by him' (John 1:10); and he was in the world, and 'came into this world to save sinners' (1 Tim. 1:15). To him my soul is making confession, and 'he is healing it, because it was against him that it sinned' (Ps.40:5).

Having proven that solitary pleasures are as delicious as any others and much more likely to delight, it becomes perfectly clear that this enjoyment, taken in independence of the objectwe employ, is not merely of a nature very remote from what could be pleasurable to thatobject, but is even found to be inimical to that object’s pleasure: what is more, it may becomean imposed suffering, a vexation, or a torture, and the only thing that results from this abuse isa very certain increase of pleasure for the despot who does the tormenting or vexing; let usattempt to demonstrate this.”Voluptuous emotion is nothing but a kind of vibration produced in our soul by shockswhich the imagination, inflamed by the remembrance of a lubricious object, registers uponour senses, either through this object’s presence, or better still by this object’s being exposedto that particular kind of irritation which most profoundly stirs us; thus, our voluptuoustransport Ä this indescribable convulsive needling which drives us wild, which lifts us to thehighest pitch of happiness at which man is able to arrive Ä is never ignited save by twocauses: either by the perception in the object we use of a real or imaginary beauty, the beautyin which we delight the most, or by the sight of that object undergoing the strongest possiblesensation; now, there is no more lively sensation than that of pain; its impressions are certainand dependable, they never deceive as may those of the pleasure women perpetually feign andalmost never experience; and, furthermore, how much self-confidence, youth, vigor, healthare not needed in order to be sure of producing this dubious and hardly very satisfyingimpression of pleasure in a woman. To produce the painful impression, on the contrary,requires no virtues at all: the more defects a man may have, the older he is, the less lovable,the more resounding his success. With what regards the objective, it will be far more certainlyattained since we are establishing the fact that one never better touches, I wish to say, that onenever better irritates one’s senses than when the greatest possible impression has been produced in the employed object, by no matter what devices; therefore, he who will cause themost tumultuous impression to be born in a woman, he who will most thoroughly convulsethis woman’s entire frame, very decidedly will have managed to procure himself the heaviest possible dose of voluptuousness, because the shock resultant upon us by the impressionsothers experience, which shock in turn is necessitated by the impression we have of thoseothers, will necessarily be more vigorous if the impression these others receive be painful,than if the impression they receive be sweet and mild; and it follows that the voluptuousegoist, who is persuaded his pleasures will be keen only insofar as they are entire, willtherefore impose, when he has it in his power to do so, the strongest possible dose of painupon the employed object, fully certain that what by way of voluptuous pleasure he extractswill be his only by dint of the very lively impression he has produced.

Me quota ang pag-ibig. Sa bawat limang umiibig, isa lang ang magiging maligaya. Ang iba, iibig sa di sila iniibig. O iibig nang di natututo. O iibig na wala. O di iibig kailanman. Ang iba'y iibig sa maling panahon, umibig na noong 1980s, nakipagmartsa sa mga aktibista, pero ang taong nakatakda para sa kanya ay nabuhay noon pang 1930s, isang rebelde laban sa mga amerikano, matagal nang namatay. Kaya she keeps falling in love sa mga lalaking mas matatanda hinahanap sa kanila ang di mahanap na wala, hindi mapagtagpo ang kahapon at ang kasalukyan. May mga pusong pinaglalaruan. Nasa parehong building ng call center but they will never realize that they are on the same floor. Maski parang laging may strange force na humihila sa kanila para tumingin sa kabilang building. Kailanman ay di sila magtatagpo. Tanungin man siya ng boyfriend niya kung ano iyong lagi niyang tinitignan sa kabila ay di niya masasagot. At kailanman ay di niya malalaman dahil eventually ang lalaki ay lilipat sa ibang lugar, at siya, hanggang sa mamatay, di na niya malalaman kung sino nga iyong nasa kabila. Merong pinalad na nagkakilala, nagkaibigan at nagsama. Pero sa di malamang dahilan ay iniwan ng babae ang lalaki. Mabubuhay ang lalaki sa walang hanggang paghahanap. Mari-realize niya na ang pag-ibig ay laging paghahanap. Pero hindi niya kailanman mahahanap ang babae dahil ang totoong hindi niya mahanap ay ang kanyang sarili. Merong away nang away kapag magkasama pero hindi naman kaya ang makahiwalay. Merong nagmamahal lamang kapag nananakit. Meron relihiyon ang humaharang, o katayuan sa buhay, o mga magulang. Merong sila mismo ang gumagawa ng harang. Merong umiibig na habang nagtatagal ay lalong nawawalan ng IQ. Merong pag umibig ay napupundi ang 4 out of 5 senses, touch lang ang natitira. Merong ang tingin sa pag-ibig ay tali. Meron di makahakbang dahil sa pag-ibig at merong namang nakakalipad. Merong ang tingin sa pag-ibig ay hapunang walang sawsawan. Merong pag umibig ay nahaharap sa salamin, sarili ang sinasamba. Merong ang tingin sa pag-ibig ay parusa. Ang iba'y iibig sa hayop, dahil noong unang panahon ay mga hayop sila. Ang iba'y iibig sa mga bahay, kinikilig kapag hinahaplos ang barandilya, nalilibugan sa mga kisame, pinagnanasaan ang sahig. Patuloy silang mananakit sa mga babaing umiibig sa kanila dahil hindi nila kailanman malalaman ang puso nila ay gawa sa kahoy. Pero merong isa sa lima, harangan man ng kulog, ng ganid, ng lindol, ng teknolohiya, mahahanap niya ang kanyang mahal. Siya lang ang magiging maligaya.

Curiously enough, one cannot read a book: one can only reread it. A good reader, a major reader, an active and creative reader is a rereader. And I shall tell you why. When we read a book for the first time the very process of laboriously moving our eyes from left to right, line after line, page after page, this complicated physical work upon the book, the very process of learning in terms of space and time what the book is about, this stands between us and artistic appreciation. When we look at a painting we do not have to move our eyes in a special way even if, as in a book, the picture contains elements of depth and development. The element of time does not really enter in a first contact with a painting. In reading a book, we must have time to acquaint ourselves with it. We have no physical organ (as we have the eye in regard to a painting) that takes in the whole picture and then can enjoy its details. But at a second, or third, or fourth reading we do, in a sense, behave towards a book as we do towards a painting. However, let us not confuse the physical eye, that monstrous masterpiece of evolution, with the mind, an even more monstrous achievement. A book, no matter what it is—a work of fiction or a work of science (the boundary line between the two is not as clear as is generally believed)—a book of fiction appeals first of all to the mind. The mind, the brain, the top of the tingling spine, is, or should be, the only instrument used upon a book.

Let, then, thy soul by faith be exercised with such thoughts and apprehensions as these: “I am a poor, weak creature; unstable as water, I cannot excel. This corruption is too hard for me, and is at the very door of ruining my soul; and what to do I know not. My soul is become as parched ground, and an habitation of dragons. I have made promises and broken them; vows and engagements have been as a thing of nought. Many persuasions have I had that I had got the victory and should be delivered, but I am deceived; so that I plainly see, that without some eminent succour and assistance, I am lost, and shall be prevailed on to an utter relinquishment of God. But yet, though this be my state and condition, let the hands that hang down be lifted up, and the feeble knees be strengthened. Behold, 32the Lord Christ, that hath all fulness of grace in his heart, all fulness of power in his hand, he is able to slay all these his enemies. There is sufficient provision in him for my relief and assistance. He can take my drooping, dying soul and make me more than a conqueror.33 ‘Why sayest thou, O my soul, My way is hid from the Lord, and my judgment is passed over from my God? Hast thou not known, hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary? there is no searching of his understanding. He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall: but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; they shall walk, and not faint,’ Isa. xl. 27–31. He can make the ‘dry, parched ground of my soul to become a pool, and my thirsty, barren heart as springs of water;’ yea, he can make this ‘habitation of dragons,’ this heart, so full of abominable lusts and fiery temptations, to be a place for ‘grass’ and fruit to himself,” Isa. xxxv. 7. So God staid Paul, under his temptation, with the consideration of the sufficiency of his grace: “My grace is sufficient for thee,” 2 Cor. xii. 9. Though he were not immediately so far made partaker of it as to be freed from his temptation, yet the sufficiency of it in God, for that end and purpose, was enough to stay his spirit. I say, then, by faith, be much in the consideration of that supply and the fulness of it that is in Jesus Christ, and how he can at any time give thee strength and deliverance. Now, if hereby thou dost not find success to a conquest, yet thou wilt be staid in the chariot, that thou shalt not fly out of the field until the battle be ended; thou wilt be kept from an utter despondency and a lying down under thy unbelief, or a turning aside to false means and remedies, that in the issue will not relieve thee. The efficacy of this consideration will be found only in the practice.

The conclusion, therefore, is that of Augustine, who said that the heart of man was created for God and that it cannot find rest until it rests in his Father’s heart. Hence all men are really seeking after God, as Augustine also declared, but they do not all seek Him in the right way, nor at the right place. They seek Him down below, and He is up above. They seek Him on the earth, and He is in heaven. They seek Him afar, and He is nearby. They seek Him in money, in property, in fame, in power, and in passion; and He is to be found in the high and the holy places, and with him that is of a contrite and humble spirit (Isa. 57:15). But they do seek Him, if haply they might feel after Him and find Him (Acts 17:27). They seek Him and at the same time they flee Him. They have no interest in a knowledge of His ways, and yet they cannot do without Him. They feel themselves attracted to God and at the same time repelled by Him. In this, as Pascal so profoundly pointed out, consists the greatness and the miserableness of man. He longs for truth and is false by nature. He yearns for rest and throws himself from one diversion upon another. He pants for a permanent and eternal bliss and seizes on the pleasures of a moment. He seeks for God and loses himself in the creature. He is a born son of the house and he feeds on the husks of the swine in a strange land. He forsakes the fountain of living waters and hews out broken cisterns that can hold no water ( Jer. 2:13). He is as a hungry man who dreams that he is eating, and when he awakes finds that his soul is empty; and he is like a thirsty man who dreams that he is drinking, and when he awakes finds that he is faint and that his soul has appetite (Isa. 29:8). Science cannot explain this contradiction in man. It reckons only with his greatness and not with his misery, or only with his misery and not with his greatness. It exalts him too high, or it depresses him too far, for science does not know of his Divine origin, nor of his profound fall. But the Scriptures know of both, and they shed their light over man and over mankind; and the contradictions are reconciled, the mists are cleared, and the hidden things are revealed. Man is an enigma whose solution can be found only in God.

Heisenberg and Bohr and Einstein strike me as being like gifted retriever dogs. Off they go, not just for an afternoon, but for ten years; they come back exhausted and triumphant and drop at your feet... a vole. It's a remarkable thing in its way, a vole—intricate, beautiful really, marvellous. But does it... Does it help? Does it move the matter on? When you ask a question that you'd actually like to know the answer to—what was there before the Big Bang, for instance, or what lies beyond the expanding universe, why does life have this inbuilt absurdity, this non sequitur of death—they say that your question can't be answered, because the terms in which you've put it are logically unsound. What you must do, you see, is ask vole questions. Vole is—as we have agreed—the answer; so it follows that your questions must therefore all be vole-related.

Throughout the biblical story, from Genesis to Revelation, every radical challenge from the biblical God is both asserted and then subverted by its receiving communities— be they earliest Israelites or latest Christians. That pattern of assertion-and-subversion, that rhythm of expansion-and-contraction, is like the systole-and-diastole cycle of the human heart. In other words, the heartbeat of the Christian Bible is a recurrent cardiac cycle in which the asserted radicality of God’s nonviolent distributive justice is subverted by the normalcy of civilization’s violent retributive justice. And, of course, the most profound annulment is that both assertion and subversion are attributed to the same God or the same Christ. Think of this example. In the Bible, prophets are those who speak for God. On one hand, the prophets Isaiah and Micah agree on this as God’s vision: “they shall beat their swords into plowshares, / and their spears into pruning hooks; / nation shall not lift up sword against nation, / neither shall they learn war any more” (Isa. 2:4 = Mic. 4:3). On the other hand, the prophet Joel suggests the opposite vision: “Beat your plowshares into swords, / and your pruning hooks into spears; / let the weakling say, ‘I am a warrior’” (3:10). Is this simply an example of assertion-and-subversion between prophets, or between God’s radicality and civilization’s normalcy? That proposal might also answer how, as noted in Chapter 1, Jesus the Christ of the Sermon on the Mount preferred loving enemies and praying for persecutors while Jesus the Christ of the book of Revelation preferred killing enemies and slaughtering persecutors. It is not that Jesus the Christ changed his mind, but that in standard biblical assertion-and-subversion strategy, Christianity changed its Jesus.

Suppose for a moment that you were allowed to enter heaven without holiness. What would you do? What possible enjoyment could you feel there? To which of all the saints would you join yourself, and by whose side would you sit down? Their pleasures are not your pleasures, their tastes not your tastes, their character not your character. How could you possibly be happy, if you had not been holy on earth? Now perhaps you love the company of the light and the careless, the worldly-minded and the covetous, the reveller and the pleasure-seeker, the ungodly and the profane. There will be none such in heaven. Now perhaps you think the saints of God too strict and particular, and serious. You rather avoid them. You have no delight in their society. There will be no other company in heaven. Now perhaps you think praying, and Scripture-reading, and hymn singing, dull and melancholy, and stupid work—a thing to be tolerated now and then, but not enjoyed. You reckon the Sabbath a burden and a weariness; you could not possibly spend more than a small part of it in worshipping God. But remember, heaven is a never-ending Sabbath. The inhabitants thereof rest not day or night, saying, “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty” and singing the praise of the Lamb. How could an unholy man find pleasure in occupation such as this? Think you that such an one would delight to meet David, and Paul, and John, after a life spent in doing the very things they spoke against? Would he take sweet counsel with them, and find that he and they had much in common?—Think you, above all, that he would rejoice to meet Jesus, the Crucified One, face to face, after cleaving to the sins for which He died, after loving His enemies and despising His friends? Would he stand before Him with confidence, and join in the cry, “This is our God; we have waited for Him, we will be glad and rejoice in His salvation”? (Isa. xxv. 9.) Think you not rather that the tongue of an unholy man would cleave to the roof of his mouth with shame, and his only desire would be to be cast out! He would feel a stranger in a land he knew not, a black sheep amidst Christ’s holy flock. The voice of Cherubim and Seraphim, the song of Angels and Archangels and all the company of heaven, would be a language he could not understand. The very air would seem an air he could not breathe. I know not what others may think, but to me it does seem clear that heaven would be a miserable place to an unholy man. It cannot be otherwise. People may say, in a vague way, “they hope to go to heaven;” but they do not consider what they say. There must be a certain “meetness for the inheritance of the saints in light.” Our hearts must be somewhat in tune. To reach the holiday of glory, we must pass through the training school of grace. We must be heavenly-minded, and have heavenly tastes, in the life that now is, or else we shall never find ourselves in heaven, in the life to come.

Why were so few voices raised in the ancient world in protest against the ruthlessness of man? Why are human beings so obsequious, ready to kill and ready to die at the call of kings and chieftains? Perhaps it is because they worship might, venerate those who command might, and are convinced that it is by force that man prevails. The splendor and the pride of kings blind the people. The Mesopotamian, for example, felt convinced that authorities were always right: "The command of the palace, like the command of Anu, cannot be altered. The king's word is right; his utterance, like that of a god, cannot be changed!" The prophets repudiated the work as well as the power of man as an object of supreme adoration. They denounced "arrogant boasting" and "haughty pride" (Isa. 10:12), the kings who ruled the nations in anger, the oppressors (Isa. 14:4-6), the destroyers of nations, who went forth to inflict waste, ruin, and death (Jer. 4:7), the "guilty men, whose own might is their god" (Hab. 1: 11). Their course is evil, Their might is not right. Jeremiah 23:10 The end of public authority is to realize the moral law, a task for which both knowledge and understanding as well as the possession of power are indispensable means. Yet inherent in power is the tendency to breed conceit. " . . . one of the most striking and one of the most pervasive features of the prophetic polemic [is] the denunciation and distrust of power in all its forms and guises. The hunger of the powerfit! knows no satiety; the appetite grows on what it feeds. Power exalts itself and is incapable of yielding to any transcendent judgment; it 'listens to no voice' (Zeph. 3:2) ." It is the bitter irony of history that the common people, who are devoid of power and are the prospective victims of its abuse, are the first to become the ally of him who accumulates power. Power is spectacular, while its end, the moral law, is inconspicuous.

The neo-cons, or some of them, decided that they would back Clinton when he belatedly decided for Bosnia and Kosovo against Milosevic, and this even though they loathed Clinton, because the battle against religious and ethnic dictatorship in the Balkans took precedence. This, by the way, was partly a battle to save Muslims from Catholic and Christian Orthodox killers. That impressed me. The neo-cons also took the view, quite early on, that coexistence with Saddam Hussein was impossible as well as undesirable. They were dead right about that. They had furthermore been thinking about the menace of jihadism when most people were half-asleep. And then I have to say that I was rather struck by the way that the Weekly Standard and its associated voices took the decision to get rid of Trent Lott earlier this year, thus removing an embarrassment as well as a disgrace from the political scene. And their arguments were on points of principle, not 'perception.' I liked their ruthlessness here, and their seriousness, at a time when much of the liberal Left is not even seriously wrong, but frivolously wrong, and babbles without any sense of responsibility. (I mean, have you read their sub-Brechtian stuff on Halliburton....?) And revolution from above, in some states and cases, is—as I wrote in my book A Long Short War—often preferable to the status quo, or to no revolution at all.

—I cannot, at this place, avoid a sigh. There are days when I am visited by a feeling blacker than the blackest melancholy—contempt of man. Let me leave no doubt as to what I despise, whom I despise: it is the man of today, the man with whom I am unhappily contemporaneous. The man of today—I am suffocated by his foul breath!… Toward the past, like all who understand, I am full of tolerance, which is to say, generous self-control: with gloomy caution I pass through whole millenniums of this madhouse of a world, call it “Christianity,” “Christian faith” or the “Christian church,” as you will—I take care not to hold mankind responsible for its lunacies. But my feeling changes and breaks out irresistibly the moment I enter modern times, our times. Our age knows better… . What was formerly merely sickly now becomes indecent—it is indecent to be a Christian today. And here my disgust begins.—I look about me: not a word survives of what was once called “truth”; we can no longer bear to hear a priest pronounce the word. Even a man who makes the most modest pretensions to integrity must know that a theologian, a priest, a pope of today not only errs when he speaks, but actually lies—and that he no longer escapes blame for his lie through “innocence” or “ignorance.” The priest knows, as every one knows, that there is no longer any “God,” or any “sinner,” or any “Saviour”—that “free will” and the “moral order of the world” are lies—: serious reflection, the profound self-conquest of the spirit, allow no man to pretend that he does not know it… . All the ideas of the church are now recognized for what they are—as the worst counterfeits in existence, invented to debase nature and all natural values; the priest himself is seen as he actually is—as the most dangerous form of parasite, as the venomous spider of creation… . We know, our conscience now knows—just what the real value of all those sinister inventions of priest and church has been and what ends they have served, with their debasement of humanity to a state of self-pollution, the very sight of which excites loathing,—the concepts “the other world,” “the last judgment,” “the immortality of the soul,” the “soul” itself: they are all merely so many instruments of torture, systems of cruelty, whereby the priest becomes master and remains master… . Every one knows this, but nevertheless things remain as before. What has become of the last trace of decent feeling, of self-respect, when our statesmen, otherwise an unconventional class of men and thoroughly anti-Christian in their acts, now call themselves Christians and go to the communion-table?… A prince at the head of his armies, magnificent as the expression of the egoism and arrogance of his people—and yet acknowledging, without any shame, that he is a Christian!… Whom, then, does Christianity deny? what does it call “the world”? To be a soldier, to be a judge, to be a patriot; to defend one’s self; to be careful of one’s honour; to desire one’s own advantage; to be proud … every act of everyday, every instinct, every valuation that shows itself in a deed, is now anti-Christian: what a monster of falsehood the modern man must be to call himself nevertheless, and without shame, a Christian!—