Lee Sin Quotes

Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corncribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.

Atticus said to Jem one day, "I’d rather you shot at tin cans in the backyard, but I know you’ll go after birds. Shoot all the blue jays you want, if you can hit ‘em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird." That was the only time I ever heard Atticus say it was a sin to do something, and I asked Miss Maudie about it. "Your father’s right," she said. "Mockingbirds don’t do one thing except make music for us to enjoy. They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corn cribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.

Shoot all the blue jays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember it's a sin to kill a mockingbird.

It's beginning to feel like he's shuffling his way through the seven deadly sins, in ascending order of my favourites.

Remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.

I remember when my daddy gave me that gun. He told me that I should never point it at anything in the house; and that he'd rather I'd shoot at tin cans in the backyard. But he said that sooner or later he supposed the temptation to go after birds would be too much, and that I could shoot all the blue jays I wanted - if I could hit 'em; but to remember it was a sin to kill a mockingbird.

Self-pity is a sin. It is a form of living suicide.

Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit ’em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.

I’d rather you shot at tin cans in the back yard, but I know you’ll go after birds. Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit ‘em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.

Yes, of course. If you love anyone, you cannot help but share his suffering. If we love our Lord, not just admire him or fear him or want things from him, we must recognize his feelings; he must be in anguish over our sins. We must understand this anguish. The Lord suffers with us. He suffers like us. It is a consolation to know this. To know that we are not in fact alone in our suffering.

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.

…this was the gold from our mining: 'Thou mayest.' The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin (and you can call sin ignorance). The King James translation makes a promise in 'Thou shalt,' meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word timshel—'Thou mayest'—that gives a choice. For if 'Thou mayest'—it is also true that 'Thou mayest not.' That makes a man great and that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it through and win.

Well, one is illegal. And a sin. And the other is also a sin, if you aren’t married to her.

To kill a mockingbird is a sin

So you stay, you don't tell anyone, is that it?" "Sure," Della Lee said easily. "That's blackmail." "Add it to my list of sins." "I don't think there's room left on that list," Josey said as she took a dress from its hanger. Then she closed the closet door on Della Lee.

He felt like sin but tasted like love so what's a clumsy girl to do but stumble in delicious crazy love.

—Estúpido Jared —lee él por mí—. Sigo sin saber si debería sentirme ofendido. —Es mi mantra —murmuro. —¿Tu... qué?

Thou mayest rule over sin,’ Lee. That’s it. I do not believe all men are destroyed. I can name you a dozen who were not, and they are the ones the world lives by. It is true of the spirit as it is true of battles — only the winners are remembered. Surely most men are destroyed, but there are others who like pillars of fire guide frightened men through the darkness. ‘Thou mayest, Thou mayest!’ What glory!

I kissed him on the cheek and left to find Bobby Lee. Him, I trusted to be in the line of fire. But it was more than that: I wasn't sleeping with bobby Lee. I didn't love him. Sometimes love makes you selfish. Sometimes it makes you stupid. Sometimes it reminds you why you love your gun.

I wish I knew I was doing this right," Cheris said, "but there's nothing to it but to move forward." "The only unforgivable sin in war is standing still," Jedao said. "It's better to be doing the wrong thing wholeheartedly than freeze.

Llevo varios días pensado en la sutil diferencia que hay entre en palabras que, aparentemente, significan lo mismo y que sin embargo entre ellas hay un abismo. Casa y hogar, por ejemplo. Casa no son más que paredes, techo para guarecerte de la lluvia, habitaciones especiales donde puedes realizar, sin que nadie te mire, necesidades fisiológicas propias de nuestra especie, área reservada que tiene el colchón en el que duermes. Hogar, en cambio, es donde tienes tus libros; la cama que conserva tu olor, o más bien, el perfume, la esencia de la persona amada; el maravilloso espacio donde los sueños se suceden; el lugar en el que te refugias de la maldad; también hay trono de rey o de princesa donde lees sin que nadie te moleste y que en las casas sólo sirve para mear y cagar. Hogar es sinónimo, no de casa sino de calidez, de ternura, de refugio, de ventana para mirar al mundo y la lluvia sin que ésta te moje.

Se vive así, cobijado en un mundo delicado, y uno cree que vive. Entonces lee un libro (Lady Chatterley, por ejemplo), o va de viaje, o habla con Richard, y descubre que no vive, que está simplemente hibernando. Los síntomas de la hibernación se pueden detectar fácilmente. El primero es la inquietud. El segundo síntoma (que llega cuando el estado de hibernación empieza a ser peligroso y podría degenerar en muerte) es la ausencia de placer. Eso es todo. Parece una enfermedad inocua. Monotonía, aburrimiento, muerte. Hay millones de personas que viven (o mueren) así, sin saberlo. Trabajan en oficinas. Tienen coches. Salen al campo con su familia. Educan a sus hijos. Hasta que llega una brusca conmoción: una persona, un libro, una canción... y los despierta, salvándoles de la muerte.

That was the trouble with smart men. They thought they had all the answers, and then when life knocked them aside, they thought it was all their faults.

Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember it's a sin to kill a mockingbird

It’s beginning to feel like he’s shuffling his way through the seven deadly sins, in ascending order of my favorites.

The drugs and alcohol, they don’t make us feel better. When you’re high you hate yourself freely, and it’s okay, because you’re not accountable in that moment. You’re free to be your own worst enemy–free to be the person hiding inside you. The person that is less than. Less than you’d planned to be.

Lee’s hand shook as he filled the delicate cups. He drank his down in one gulp. “Don’t you see?” he cried. “The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you can call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in ‘Thou shalt,’ meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—‘Thou mayest’— that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man. For if ‘Thou mayest’—it is also true that ‘Thou mayest not.’ Don’t you see?

¿Qué vas a leer? Si tienes suerte, podrás vivir unos ochenta años. De los cuales, si comenzaste a leer a los seis, tendrás setenta y cuatro de vida útil como lector. Si lees sin parar un libro por semana durante esos setenta y cuatro años completos, sin fallar, a lo largo de tu vida puedes leer 3848 títulos. No son muchos... ¿Ya escogiste qué vas a leer?

I would almost forget about Ida Durbin. But a sin of omission, if indeed that's what it was, can be like the rusty head of a hatchet buried in the heartwood of a tree -- it eventually finds the teeth of a whirling saw blade.

Our tainted world looms within us, every one.

Loving an addict is to live torn between hope and mourning, caught in an endless repetition of the five stages of grief.

i love erotic books.

Thing is, foot-washers think women are a sin in definition.

Thou mayest rule over sin,’ Lee. That’s it. I do not believe all men are destroyed. I can name you a dozen who were not, and they are the ones the world lives by. It is true of the spirit as it is true of battles—only the winners are remembered. Surely most men are destroyed, but there are others who like pillars of fire guide frightened men through the darkness. ‘Thou mayest, Thou mayest!’ What glory! It is true that we are weak and sick and quarrelsome, but if that is all we ever were, we would, millenniums ago, have disappeared from the face of the earth. A few remnants of fossilized jawbone, some broken teeth in strata of limestone, would be the only mark man would have left of his existence in the world. But the choice, Lee, the choice of winning! I had never understood it or accepted it before. Do you see now why I told Adam tonight? I exercised the choice. Maybe I was wrong, but by telling him I also forced him to live or get off the pot. What is that word, Lee?” “Timshel,” said Lee.

But C. S. Lewis made the point that we hate sin but love the sinner all the time — in our own lives. In other words, when we’re judging ourselves, we always love the sinner despite our sin. We accept ourselves, even though we might not always like our behavior.

I remember clearly the deaths of three men. One was the richest man of the century, who, having clawed his way to wealth through the souls and bodies of men, spent many years trying to buy back the love he had forfeited and by that process performed great service to the world and, perhaps, had much more than balanced the evils of his rise. I was on a ship when he died. The news was posted on the bulletin board, and nearly everyone recieved the news with pleasure. Several said, "Thank God that son of a bitch is dead." Then there was a man, smart as Satan, who, lacking some perception of human dignity and knowing all too well every aspect of human weakness and wickedness, used his special knowledge to warp men, to buy men, to bribe and threaten and seduce until he found himself in a position of great power. He clothed his motives in the names of virtue, and I have wondered whether he ever knew that no gift will ever buy back a man's love when you have removed his self-love. A bribed man can only hate his briber. When this man died the nation rang with praise... There was a third man, who perhaps made many errors in performance but whose effective life was devoted to making men brave and dignified and good in a time when they were poor and frightened and when ugly forces were loose in the world to utilize their fears. This man was hated by few. When he died the people burst into tears in the streets and their minds wailed, "What can we do now?" How can we go on without him?" In uncertainty I am certain that underneath their topmost layers of frailty men want to be good and want to be loved. Indeed, most of their vices are attempted short cuts to love. When a man comes to die, mo matter what his talents and influence and genius, if he dies unloved his life must be a failure to him and his dying a cold horror....we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure to the world.

My prayer time alone with the Lord Jesus is more important than any other thing I do each day. There in the secret place, the devil's plans are shattered and God's victories are won, evil is thwarted and blessings are unleashed, sicknesses are overcome and sin is denied its sway over the lives of the weak. Our God is an answering God.

-¿No sabes qué decir? -parecía divertirse con la confusión que se reflejaba en su rostro. -Sospecho que eres tú quien trata de dejarme sin nada que decir.

Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit ’em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.” That

The guinea pig took another sip of his beer and rolled his eyes in exasperation - was this never going to end? 'He works better when he's drunk,' Señor Villanova explained.

Self-pity is a sin,” she told a reporter in 1963, already frustrated, only three years after Mockingbird. “It is a form of living suicide.

Lee’s hand shook as he filled the delicate cups. He drank his down in one gulp. “Don’t you see?” he cried. “The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you can call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in ‘Thou shalt,’ meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—‘Thou mayest’—that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man. For if ‘Thou mayest’—it is also true that ‘Thou mayest not.’ Don’t you see?” “Yes, I see. I do see. But you do not believe this is divine law. Why do you feel its importance?” “Ah!” said Lee. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time. I even anticipated your questions and I am well prepared. Any writing which has influenced the thinking and the lives of innumerable people is important. Now, there are many millions in their sects and churches who feel the order, ‘Do thou,’ and throw their weight into obedience. And there are millions more who feel predestination in ‘Thou shalt.’ Nothing they may do can interfere with what will be. But “Thou mayest’! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it through and win.” Lee’s voice was a chant of triumph. Adam said, “Do you believe that, Lee?” “Yes, I do. Yes, I do. It is easy out of laziness, out of weakness, to throw oneself into the lap of deity, saying, ‘I couldn’t help it; the way was set.’ But think of the glory of the choice! That makes a man a man. A cat has no choice, a bee must make honey. There’s no godliness there. And do you know, those old gentlemen who were sliding gently down to death are too interested to die now?” Adam said, “Do you mean these Chinese men believe the Old Testament?” Lee said, “These old men believe a true story, and they know a true story when they hear it. They are critics of truth. They know that these sixteen verses are a history of humankind in any age or culture or race. They do not believe a man writes fifteen and three-quarter verses of truth and tells a lie with one verb. Confucius tells men how they should live to have good and successful lives. But this—this is a ladder to climb to the stars.” Lee’s eyes shone. “You can never lose that. It cuts the feet from under weakness and cowardliness and laziness.” Adam said, “I don’t see how you could cook and raise the boys and take care of me and still do all this.” “Neither do I,” said Lee. “But I take my two pipes in the afternoon, no more and no less, like the elders. And I feel that I am a man. And I feel that a man is a very important thing—maybe more important than a star. This is not theology. I have no bent toward gods. But I have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. It is a lovely and unique thing in the universe. It is always attacked and never destroyed—because ‘Thou mayest.

I'd rather you shot at tin cans in the back yard, but i know you'll go after birds. Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember it's a sin to kill a mockingbird..... Mockingbirds don't do one thing to but make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up people's garden, don't nest in corncribs,they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That's why it's a sin to kill a mockingbird.

I had a feeling that I shouldn't be here listening to this sinful man who had mixed children and didn't care who knew it, but he was fascinating. I had never encountered a being who deliberately perpetrated fraud against himself. But why had he entrusted us with his deepest secret? I asked him why. 'Because you're children and you can unterstand it,' he said.

Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corncribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird. They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corncribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.

¿Quién lee para llegar al final, por deseable que éste sea? ¿Acaso no hay ocupaciones que practicamos porque son buenas en sí mismas, y placeres que son absolutos? ¿Y no está éste entre ellos? A veces he soñado que cuando llegue el Día del Juicio y los grandes conquistadores y abogados y estadistas vayan a recibir sus recompensas - sus coronas, sus laureles, sus nombres grabados indeleblemente en mármol imperecedero-, el Todopoderosos se volverá hacia Pedro y le dirá, no sin cierta envidia cuando nos vea llegar con nuestros libros bajo el brazo: "Mira, ésos no necesitan recompensa. No tenemos nada que darles. Han amado la lectura.

In the writings of many contemporary psychics and mystics (e.g., Gopi Krishna, Shri Rajneesh, Frannie Steiger, John White, Hal Lindsay, and several dozen others whose names I have mercifully forgotten) there is a repeated prediction that the Earth is about to be afflicted with unprecedented calamities, including every possible type of natural catastrophe from Earthquakes to pole shifts. Most of humanity will be destroyed, these seers inform us cheerfully. This cataclysm is referred to, by many of them, as "the Great Purification" or "the Great Cleansing," and is supposed to be a punishment for our sins. I find the morality and theology of this Doomsday Brigade highly questionable. A large part of the Native American population was exterminated in the 19th century; I cannot regard that as a "Great Cleansing" or believe that the Indians were being punished for their sins. Nor can I think of Hitler's death camps, or Hiroshima or Nagasaki, as "Great Purifications." And I can't make myself believe that the millions killed by plagues, cancers, natural catastrophes, etc., throughout history were all singled out by some Cosmic Intelligence for punishment, while the survivors were preserved due to their virtues. To accept the idea of "God" implicit in such views is logically to hold that everybody hit by a car deserved it, and we should not try to get him to a hospital and save his life, since "God" wants him dead. I don't know who are the worst sinners on this planet, but I am quite sure that if a Higher Intelligence wanted to exterminate them, It would find a very precise method of locating each one separately. After all, even Lee Harvey Oswald -- assuming the official version of the Kennedy assassination -- only hit one innocent bystander while aiming at JFK. To assume that Divinity would employ earthquakes and pole shifts to "get" (say) Richard Nixon, carelessly murdering millions of innocent children and harmless old ladies and dogs and cats in the process, is absolutely and ineluctably to state that your idea of God is of a cosmic imbecile.

Any conduct on the part of an individual that does not advance him toward the goal of eternal life is not only wasted energy but actually becomes the basis of sin.

Pride is the mother hen under which all other sins are hatched,’ says C. S. Lewis.

Kahretsin!” “Ne?” “Sen gerçek bir Chun Lee’sin.” Genç kadın gözlerini devirdi.”Hayır.Ben ondan daha iyiyim.

Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember it's a sin to kill a mockingbird.

He felt like sin but tasted like love so, what’s a clumsy girl to do but stumble in delicious rapturous love.

No te enamores de una mujer que lee, de una mujer que siente demasiado, de una mujer que escribe… No te enamores de una mujer culta, maga, delirante, loca. No te enamores de una mujer que piensa, que sabe lo que sabe y además sabe volar; una mujer segura de sí misma. No te enamores de una mujer que se ríe o llora haciendo el amor, que sabe convertir en espíritu su carne; y mucho menos de una que ame la poesía (esas son las más peligrosas), o que se quede media hora contemplando una pintura y no sepa vivir sin la música. No te enamores de una mujer a la que le interese la política y que sea rebelde y vertigue un inmenso horror por las injusticias.Una a la que le gusten los juegos de fútbol y de pelota y no le guste para nada ver televisión. Ni de una mujer que es bella sin importar las características de su cara y de su cuerpo. No te enamores de una mujer intensa, lúdica y lúcida e irreverente. No quieras enamorarte de una mujer así. Porque cuando te enamoras de una mujer como esa, se quede ella contigo o no, te ame ella o no, de ella, de una mujer así, JAMAS se regresa.

Se refería a la posibilidad de quemar libros sin cerillas ni fuego. Porque no hace falta quemar libros si el mundo empieza a llenarse de gente que no lee, que no aprende, que no sabe.

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She

Nadie se da cuenta al tener un libro en las manos, el esfuerzo, el dolor, la vigilia, la sangre que ha costado. El libro es, sin disputa, la obra mayor de la humanidad. — Dime qué lees y te diré quién eres

Atticus said to Jem one day, “I’d rather you shot at tin cans in the back yard, but I know you’ll go after birds. Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit ’em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.

Necesito que me perdone, pero no sé si puede hacerlo sin una explicación. El único problema es que soy el que lee las confesiones. No estoy acostumbrado a escribirlas y ciertamente no estoy acostumbrado a hablar de ellas...

Cada lector es, cuando lee, el propio lector de sí mismo. La obra del escritor no es más que una especie de instrumento óptico ofrecido al lector para permitirle discernir lo que, sin ese libro, no hubiera podido ver en sí mismo.

I am thinking that my father lies, and maybe the foul things he’s fed me about myself for my whole bleeding life were just as untrue. That my father cheats. That my father has no pedestal from which to hand down judgment on me for my sins.

If anyone had a right to lecture people about their sin, it was the sinless son of God. If even he could meet sinners as equals, how much more should we Christians---all sinners ourselves---treat as equals the people we encounter in our lives?

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.

Pero sigo pensando que cuando nos atribuimos de modo más o menos arbitrario la tarea de contar no debemos preocuparnos por la serenidad de quien nos lee, sino solo por construir ficciones que ayuden a contemplar la condición humana sin demasiados filtros.

Your father’s right,” she said. “Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corncribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.

The Lord continues to be committed to us even when we sin. He continues to love us. In some ways, the nature of his love for us resembles an enduring marriage, or how a father or mother may love a misbegotten child. Hosea was being called to be like God when he had to love a person who would have been difficult to love. We are difficult to love when we sin; a sin is always a transgression against the Lord.

Vacía tu mente, sin forma, moldeable, como el agua. Si pones agua en una taza, se convierte en la taza. Si pones agua en una botella, se convierte la botella. Si la pones en una tetera, se convierte la tetera. Ahora, el agua puede fluir o puede chocar. Sé agua amigo mío”. - Bruce Lee

The question is not “Will God grant you a do-over?” The Bible promises, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). God is anxious to give you a do-over; the question is whether you’re willing to reach out and ask for one.

Lectura instantánea. Cierto famoso fakir afirmaba en el pueblo que podía enseñar a leer a una persona iletrada mediante una técnica relámpago. Nasrudín salió de entre la multitud. “Muy bien, enséñame, ahora.” El fakir tocó la frente del Mulla y dijo: “Ahora ve a casa inmediatamente y lee un libro”. Media hora más tarde, Nasrudín estaba de vuelta en el mercado, llevando un libro en sus manos. El fakir se había marchado. “¿Puedes leer ahora, Mulla?”, le preguntó la gente. “Sí, puedo leer, pero eso no es lo importante. ¿Dónde está ese charlatán?” “Cómo puede ser un charlatán si ha conseguido que leas sin aprender?” “Porque este libro, que es de incuestionable autoridad, dice: 'Todos los fakires son farsantes.

Pero cuando te falla un hombre que ha vivido conforme a la verdad, y has creído en lo que ha vivido, te quedas sin nada. Creo que por eso estoy a punto de volverme loca…». —¿Nueva

Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit 'em, but remember, it is a sin to kill a mockingbird.

Shoot all the blue jays you want, if you can hit em, but remember that it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins, my sin, my soul, Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth.

all the bluejays you want, if you can hit ’em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.

Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit ´em, but remember it´s a sin to kill a mockingbird.

I’d rather you shot at tin cans in the back yard, but I know you’ll go after birds. Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit ’em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.

Mr. Underwood didn’t talk about miscarriages of justice, he was writing so children could understand. Mr. Underwood simply figured it was a sin to kill cripples, be they standing, sitting, or escaping. He likened Tom’s death to the senseless slaughter of songbirds by hunters and children, and Maycomb thought he was trying to write an editorial poetical enough to be reprinted in The Montgomery Advertiser. How could this be so, I wondered, as I read Mr. Underwood’s editorial. Senseless killing—Tom had been given due process of law to the day of his death; he had been tried openly and convicted by twelve good men and true; my father had fought for him all the way. Then Mr. Underwood’s meaning became clear: Atticus had used every tool available to free men to save Tom Robinson, but in the secret courts of men’s hearts Atticus had no case. Tom was a dead man the minute Mayella Ewell opened her mouth and screamed.

Remember, God wants you to plow up the hard ground of your hearts! Cleanse your hearts and minds before the Lord. Confess your sins to God. Offer your sacrificial lambs and repent.” He stepped down and said, “I will be sacrificing an animal at the temple for myself and my family and friends. If any of you want to join me, you can be free from guilt and shame, as well.

Revival time was a time of war: war on sin, Coca-Cola, picture shows, hunting on Sunday; war on the increasing tendency of young women to paint themselves and smoke in public; war on drinking whiskey—in this connection at least fifty children per summer went to the altar and swore they would not drink, smoke, or curse until they were twenty-one; war on something so nebulous Jean Louise never could figure out what it was, except there was nothing to swear concerning it; and war among the town’s ladies over who could set the best table for the evangelist.

Thou mayest rule over sin, Lee. That’s it. I do not believe all men are destroyed. I can name you a dozen who were not, and they are the ones the world lives by. It is true of the spirit as it is true of battles--only the winners are remembered. Surely most men are destroyed, but there are others who like pillars of fire guide frightened men through the darkest. ’Thou mayest, thou mayest!’ What glory! It is true that we are weak and sick and quarrelsome, but if that is all we ever were, we would, millenniums ago, have disappeared from the face of the earth. A few remnants of fossilized jawbone, some broken teeth in strata of limestone, would be the only mark man would have left of his existence in the world. But the choice, Lee, the choice of winning!

Despair, the worst of all the deadly sins, since it is denial of the self, of the god-in-self, since it is so seductive, like the snow-death, so warm. Ah, who would tear himself to pieces when he might lie down in such arms, in comfort, and cease. Bless you, my despair, my dear and loving despair. So painlessly you take my pain away. Oh Father, by no means dash the cup from my lips -

says he ‘welcomes sinners and eats with them.’14 Now, think about that. In his culture, to dine with someone meant to offer friendship. The word welcome in Greek means that he took great pleasure in them. Jesus doesn’t delight in sin, but he liked being around these people, maybe because they were well aware of their depravity, unlike many of the religious folks who masked it with hypocrisy.

That ain't right, Miss Maudie. You're the best lady I know. Miss Maudie grinned. "thank you ma'am. Thing is, foot-washers think women are a sin by definition. They take the bible literally, you know.

She was pure indulgence. Hot, liquid sin. That last piece of delectable chocolate cake you knew you should walk away from, but if you didn't have at least one more taste, life wouldn't be worth living.

Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up peoples gardens, don't nest in corncribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That's why it's a sin to kill a mockingbird.

Apparently deciding what it was easier to define primitive baptistry than closed communion, Miss Maudie said: 'Foot-washers believe anything that's pleasure is a sin. Did you know some of 'em came out of the woods one Saturday and passed by this place and told me me and my flowers were going to hell?' 'Your flowers, too?' 'Yes ma'am, They'd burn right with me. They thought I spent too much time in God's outdoors and not enough time inside the house reading the Bible.

Only two questions, however, need concern the civilized creature. Why is traditional kosher wine so second-rate (it is often boiled); and, if Muslims and Jews are the only people whose laws make them (almost) each other’s ideal dinner guests, why can’t they get along?

¿Sabe, señor Hoshino? Últimamente, Nakata tiene a menudo un sueño. En el sueño, Nakata sabe leer. No sabe qué ha pasado, pero ya puede leer. Y tampoco es tan tonto. Nakata está muy, muy contento, va a la biblioteca y lee muchos libros. Piensa en lo maravilloso que es poder leer. Y devora un libro y otro libro. Sin embargo, de repente, la luz se apaga de golpe y la habitación queda a oscuras. Alguien ha apagado la luz. No se ve nada. Ya no puedo leer más. En ese punto despierto. Aunque sólo sea un buen sueño, saber leer es algo fabuloso.

But Demeseus, I have only begun. Do you see what this pure feeling ‘love’ can do to people? Just now, I know you wanted to take my head off. But if love is so pure, why do so many die in the name of love? It’s a poison. It enters your body and slowly makes you do impulsive things you wouldn’t normally do. People kill themselves because they want to be with their love. People kill others because they want to be with their love. And people kill their love because they want to be with their love. All in the name of love, but in the end, someone dies.

The Pluvian philosopher kings had suggested that there was no good or bad. There were only order and chaos, and by the laws of physics, entropy was bound to come out on top. But to not fight against chaos was still the ultimate sin because it was a tacit betrayal of the foundations of all sentient life-forms everywhere. And a universe without life was entirely pointless while a universe with life was only mostly pointless. And in a mostly pointless universe, having to decide whether to wallow in defeat or go forward toward certain defeat, there wasn't much choice at all.

Not only was Messiah born in the same location as the temple offering, but He was also washed in salt as part of the swaddling process, which points to His future sacrifice as the Passover Lamb of God who would take away the sins of the world and inaugurate the new covenant (Jeremiah 31:31).

Don’t you see?” he cried. “The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you can call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in ‘Thou shalt,’ meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—‘Thou mayest’— that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man. For if ‘Thou mayest’—it is also true that ‘Thou mayest not.’ Don’t you see?” “Yes, I see. I do see. But you do not believe this is divine law. Why do you feel its importance?” “Ah!” said Lee. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time. I even anticipated your questions and I am well prepared. Any writing which has influenced the thinking and the lives of innumerable people is important. Now, there are many millions in their sects and churches who feel the order, ‘Do thou,’ and throw their weight into obedience. And there are millions more who feel predestination in ‘Thou shalt.’ Nothing they may do can interfere with what will be. But ‘Thou mayest’! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it through and win.” Lee’s voice was a chant of triumph. Adam said, “Do you believe that, Lee?” “Yes, I do. Yes, I do. It is easy out of laziness, out of weakness, to throw oneself into the lap of deity, saying, ‘I couldn’t help it; the way was set.’ But think of the glory of the choice! That makes a man a man. A cat has no choice, a bee must make honey. There’s no godliness there. And do you know, those old gentlemen who were sliding gently down to death are too interested to die now?

Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit ’em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.” That was the only time I ever heard Atticus say it was a sin to do something, and I asked Miss Maudie about it. “Your father’s right,” she said. “Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corncribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.

The disciples, under the influence of a natural, religious concept, asked Him, “Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he should be born blind?” (v. 2). Listen to the Lord’s answer. “Neither has this man sinned nor his parents, but that the works of God might be manifested in him” (John 9:3). Here is the significance of the Lord’s reply: people always appraise situations according to yes or no, right or wrong, which are the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, but the Lord Jesus always brings people back to the tree of life, which is God Himself.

Painful memories, they can mend, love’s powerful, but it can rend, through the treacherous act of jealousy. A passion that seeks to destroy, the soul when it deploys, the vicious sin that is envy. Take heed my friends, when contemplating the end of an imagined rival for the heart’s true amour. Acts of envy bode not well, for they cast an evil spell, and in the end you’ll suffer forevermore. For jealously can blight, the harmonious light of all the love you’d hoped to see, because envy has power, and can inhumanly devour, everything you wanted from love, for thee.

Thou mayest rule over sin,' Lee. That's it. I do not believe all men are destroyed. I can name you a dozen who were not, and they are the ones the world lives by. It is true of the spirit as it is true of battles--only the winners are remembered. Surely most men are destroyed, but there are others who like pillars of fire guide frightened men through the darkness. 'Thou mayst, Thou mayest!' What glory! It is true that we are weak and sick and quarrelsome, but if that is all we ever were, we would, millenniums ago, have disappeared from the face of the earth. A few remnants of fossilized jawbone, some broken teeth in strata of limestone, would be the only mark man would have left of his existence in the world. But the choice, Lee, the choice of winning!

—Jesús, en forma intencional, se dejó caer en las manos del que lo traicionó, no se resistió al arresto, no se defendió en el juicio: resulta claro que estaba dispuesto a someterse a lo que usted describió como una forma de tortura humillante y agonizante. Y yo quisiera saber por qué. ¿Qué puede haber motivado a una persona a que acepte soportar ese tipo de castigo? Alexander Metherell, esta vez el hombre, no el doctor, buscó las palabras justas. —Francamente no creo que una persona común pudiera haberlo hecho —respondió por fin—. Sin embargo, Jesús sabía lo que le esperaba y estuvo dispuesto a padecerlo porque esa era la única forma de redimirnos: haciendo de sustituto nuestro y pagando la pena de muerte que merecemos por nuestra rebelión contra Dios. Esa fue toda su misión al venir a la tierra. Habiendo dicho eso, aun podía percibir que la mente de Mether-ell, racional, lógica y organizada sin tregua continuaba desmenuzando mi pregunta hasta llegar a la respuesta más básica e irreducible. —Por lo tanto, cuando usted me pregunta qué lo motivó —concluyó—, bien… supongo que la respuesta se puede resumir en una sola palabra; y esa sería amor.

There are many who profess to be religious and speak of themselves as Christians, and, according to one such, “as accepting the scriptures only as sources of inspiration and moral truth,” and then ask in their smugness: “Do the revelations of God give us a handrail to the kingdom of God, as the Lord’s messenger told Lehi, or merely a compass?” Unfortunately, some are among us who claim to be Church members but are somewhat like the scoffers in Lehi’s vision—standing aloof and seemingly inclined to hold in derision the faithful who choose to accept Church authorities as God’s special witnesses of the gospel and his agents in directing the affairs of the Church. There are those in the Church who speak of themselves as liberals who, as one of our former presidents has said, “read by the lamp of their own conceit.” (Joseph F. Smith, Gospel Doctrine [Deseret Book Co., 1939], p. 373.) One time I asked one of our Church educational leaders how he would define a liberal in the Church. He answered in one sentence: “A liberal in the Church is merely one who does not have a testimony.” Dr. John A. Widtsoe, former member of the Quorum of the Twelve and an eminent educator, made a statement relative to this word liberal as it applied to those in the Church. This is what he said: “The self-called liberal [in the Church] is usually one who has broken with the fundamental principles or guiding philosophy of the group to which he belongs. . . . He claims membership in an organization but does not believe in its basic concepts; and sets out to reform it by changing its foundations. . . . “It is folly to speak of a liberal religion, if that religion claims that it rests upon unchanging truth.” And then Dr. Widtsoe concludes his statement with this: “It is well to beware of people who go about proclaiming that they are or their churches are liberal. The probabilities are that the structure of their faith is built on sand and will not withstand the storms of truth.” (“Evidences and Reconciliations,” Improvement Era, vol. 44 [1941], p. 609.) Here again, to use the figure of speech in Lehi’s vision, they are those who are blinded by the mists of darkness and as yet have not a firm grasp on the “iron rod.” Wouldn’t it be wonderful if, when there are questions which are unanswered because the Lord hasn’t seen fit to reveal the answers as yet, all such could say, as Abraham Lincoln is alleged to have said, “I accept all I read in the Bible that I can understand, and accept the rest on faith.” . . . Wouldn’t it be a great thing if all who are well schooled in secular learning could hold fast to the “iron rod,” or the word of God, which could lead them, through faith, to an understanding, rather than to have them stray away into strange paths of man-made theories and be plunged into the murky waters of disbelief and apostasy? . . . Cyprian, a defender of the faith in the Apostolic Period, testified, and I quote, “Into my heart, purified of all sin, there entered a light which came from on high, and then suddenly and in a marvelous manner, I saw certainty succeed doubt.” . . . The Lord issued a warning to those who would seek to destroy the faith of an individual or lead him away from the word of God or cause him to lose his grasp on the “iron rod,” wherein was safety by faith in a Divine Redeemer and his purposes concerning this earth and its peoples. The Master warned: “But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better … that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.” (Matt. 18:6.) The Master was impressing the fact that rather than ruin the soul of a true believer, it were better for a person to suffer an earthly death than to incur the penalty of jeopardizing his own eternal destiny.