Pigs At The Trough Quotes

Any religious expression of truth, however bizzare or uncouth, is more sufficing than any secular one, however elegant and intellectually brilliant. Animistic savages prostrating themselves before a painted stone have always seemed to me to be nearer the truth than any Einstein or Bertrand Russell. As it might be pigs in a crowded sty, jostling and shoving to bury their snouts in the trough; until one of them momentarily lifts his snout upwards in the air, in so doing expressing the hope of all enlightenment to come; breaking off from his guzzling to point with his lifted snout to where the angels and archangels gather round God's throne.

Eat from the trough and sup with the pigs.

I kicked off my blanket in disgust. I’d dreamt of being beaten. The memory of the dream fluttered in front of me, still vivid. It was my eleventh birthday, and the older boudas had chased me into an old farm equipment store. I’d hid in a metal drum trough, the kind used to feed the pigs. They’d found me, poured kerosene into the drum, and set me on fire.

Not The Done Thing by Stewart Stafford Pass the strawberry conserve here, Layer some cream on top, This is how one eats scones, my dear, We’re not pigs feeding in a trough. Pinky raised when you sip tea, No slurping sounds escaping your mouth, Cucumber sandwiches in tiny triangles, Crusts of bread all cut out. Drawing room dramas over cordials ensue, Gossip exchanged with finest manners, Secrets kept as the cabal breaks up, The public face flew on their banners. © 2021, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.

The original purpose of the Church was to be a meeting place between God and man, not a glorified “bless me” club or a receiving place where man comes solely to receive from God. Church was not created as a spiritual bless-me trough where we can roll in the anointing and pig out. Church was created for you to give something of yourself to Him. If

That like the pigs, we all have our heads in the trough. While the hogs don’t believe in God, the American dream, or the pen being mightier than the sword, they do believe in the feed in the same desperate way we believe in the Sunday paper, the Bible, black urban radio, and hot sauce. On

In Romania, there is only one reason to own a pig: Christmas meat. In June, small pink loaves nuzzle up to nurse from fat sows. In August, the piglets frisk about on green grass, root for hidden treasures, and bask their plump sides in the sun. In October, they lumber up to feed troughs, grunting and shoving, their cuteness mostly a memory. In December, they die.

What do you think, Assalāyana? Suppose a consecrated khattiya king were to assemble here a hundred men of different birth and say to them: 'Come, sirs, let any here who have been born into a khattiya clan or a brahmin clan or a royal clan take an upper fire-stick of fine quality wood and light a fire and produce heat. And also let any who have been born into an outcast clan, a trapper clan, a wicker workers' clan, a cartwrights' clan, or a scavengers' clan take an upper fire-stick made from a dog's drinking trough, from a pig's trough, from a dust-bin, or from castor-oil wood and light a fire and produce heat.' "What do you think, Assalāyana? When a fire is lit and heat is produced by someone in the first group, would that fire have a flame, a color, a radiance, and would it be possible to use it for the purposes of fire, while when a fire is lit and heat is produced by someone of the second group, that fire would have no flame, no color, and no radiance, and it would not be possible to use it for the purposes of fire?