Taking Offence Quotes

Sir, with no intention to take offence, I deny your right to put words into my mouth.

Love is patient and kind. It's never jealous. Love is never boastful or conceited. It is never rude or selfish. It does not take offence and is not resentful

I say, Gibson, we're old friends, and you're a fool if you take anything I say as an offence. Madam your wife and I did not hit it off the only time I ever saw her. I won't say she was silly, but I think one of us was silly, and it was not me.

Some people take offense like it's a limited time offer.

I can see that you spoke in ignorance, and I bitterly regret that I should have been so petty as to take offence where none was intended.

I have no heart?--Perhaps I have not; But then you're mad to take offence That I don't give you what I have not got: Use your own common sense.

The act of taking offence becomes a weapon, and its wielder feels empowered by the false indignation.

It were a good strife amongst Christians, one to labour to give no offence, and the other to labour to take none. The best men are severe to themselves, tender over others.

… that sour blend of loneliness and lust for recognition, shyness and extravagance, deep insecurity and self-intoxicated egomania, that drives poets and writers out of their rooms to seek each other out, to rub shoulders with one another, bully, joke, condescend, feel each other, lay a hand on a shoulder or an arm round a waist, to chat and argue with little nudges, to spy a little, sniff out what is cooking in other pots, flatter, disagree, collude, be right, take offence, apologise, make amends, avoid each other, and seek each other’s company again.

We, the public, are easily, lethally offended. We have come to think of taking offence as a fundamental right. We value very little more highly than our rage, which gives us, in our opinion, the moral high ground. From this high ground we can shoot down at our enemies and inflict heavy fatalities. We take pride in our short fuses. Our anger elevates, transcends.

Then for the first time we became aware that our language lacks words to express this offence, the demolition of a man. In a moment, with almost prophetic intuition, the reality was revealed to us: we had reached the bottom. It is not possible to sink lower than this; no human condition is more miserable than this, nor could it conceivably be so. Nothing belongs to us any more; they have taken away our clothes, our shoes, even our hair; if we speak, they will not listen to us, and if they listen, they will not understand. They will even take away our name: and if we want to keep it, we ill have to find ourselves the strength to do so, to manage somehow so that behind the name something of us, of us as we were, still remains.

It was not intelligent to damage the ego of a young boy. You can, with some impunity, insult an older man who has already been humiliated by life itself and will not take to heart the small slights of another human being. But a young man thinks these offences mortal.

The accusation of misandry is a mechanism for silencing women, a way of silencing the anger – sometimes violent but always legitimate – of the oppressed standing up to their oppressors. Taking offence at misandry, claiming it’s merely a form of sexism like any other, and no less unacceptable (as if sexism were genuinely reviled), is a bad-faith way of sweeping under the carpet the mechanisms that make sexist oppression a systemic phenomenon buoyed throughout history by culture and authority. It’s to allege that a woman who hates men is as dangerous as a man who hates women – and that there’s no rational justification for what she feels, be it dislike, distrust or disdain. Because, obviously, no man has ever hurt a woman in the whole course of human history. Or rather, no men have ever hurt any women.

Leaders create influence with the clays of criticism others throw at them. They don't take offence; they take corrections.

Podtyagin considers whether to take offence or not -- and decides to take offence.

Why spend your life working on defense when no defense can be made truly impenetrable? Take the offensive – learn the vulnerabilities of the world around you and be the change you wish to see rather than living in constant fear of what may happen to you instead.

He who is not attracted by worldly things cherishes stillness. He who loves nothing merely human loves all men. And he who takes no offence at anyone either on account of their faults, or on account of his own suspicious thoughts, has knowledge of God and of things divine.

As libertines we seek to find and provide pleasures for others before pleasing ourselves. Libertines are never boorish, profane or blasphemous. We seek to lessen any cause for offence while maximizing pleasure. After our liaisons, our return is eagerly anticipated, and our departure is mourned. For most men the reverse is the case. In a world where most men are barely on before they are off again, we take the time and the care to be gentle lovers and build the sighs and the panting of true delight.

And since the griefstruck rarely know what they need or want, only what they don’t, offence-giving and offence-taking are common.

If you must be affected by other people's misfortunes, show them pity instead of contempt. Drop this readiness to hate and take offence.

Then for the first time we became aware that our language lacks words to express this offence, the demolition of a man. In a moment, with almost prophetic intuition, the reality was revealed to us: we had reached the bottom. It is not possible to sink lower than this; no human condition is more miserable than this, nor could it conceivably be so. Nothing belongs to us anymore; they have taken away our clothes, our shoes, even our hair; if we speak, they will not listen to us, and if they listen, they will not understand. They will even take away our name: and if we want to keep it, we will have to find in ourselves the strength to do so, to manage somehow so that behind the name something of us, of us as we were, still remains.

There are some people who argue that we are too sensitive these days, that because we’re so afraid of causing offence, we no longer engage in any serious sort of argument at all. But that’s how it is. It’s why political chat-shows on television have become so very boring. There are narrow lines between which all public conversations have to take place and even a single poorly chosen word can bring all sorts of trouble down on

Let me be frank. I find you intriguing, and extremely appealing, and delightful company, and very much a man who deserves more pleasure in his life. If you’d like to take that pleasure with me, I’d be honoured. If you aren’t so minded, don’t take offence at the offer, and I shan’t at the refusal. And if you decide you’d prefer Corvin, for example, I shall bow out like a gentleman, although I shall probably kick him in the shins at some point from pure envy.

Although it is their sticks that hurt me, I am angry at the ones who wield them, striking me. But they in turn are driven by their hatred; Therefore with their hatred I should take offence.

...there was a general murmuring, no real words, nothing that would get anyone into trouble if the piper turned nasty, but a muttering indicating, in a general sense, without wishing to cause umbrage, and seeing everyone's point of view, and taking one thing with another, and all things being equal, that people would like to see the boy given a chance, if it's all right with you, no offence meant.

There is no better way of defending yourself against unkind words than to treat them as a joke. I know someone personally who laughingly passed off such remarks as said in fun, and silenced his enemies with a witty rejoinder. They soon lost their bad temper and made light of what they had said in earnest. The humble know all these tactics, but the proud take offence at everything and are never at peace.

Miss Bingley was very deeply mortified by Darcy's marriage; but as she thought it advisable to retain the right of visiting at Pemberley, she dropt all her resentment; was fonder than ever of Georgiana, almost as attentive to Darcy as heretofore, and paid off every arrear of civility to Elizabeth. Pemberley was now Georgiana's home; and the attachment of the sisters was exactly what Darcy had hoped to see. They were able to love each other, even as well as they intended. Georgiana had the highest opinion in the world of Elizabeth; though at first she often listened with an astonishment bordering on alarm at her lively, sportive manner of talking to her brother. He, who had always inspired in herself a respect which almost overcame her affection, she now saw the object of open pleasantry. Her mind received knowledge which had never before fallen in her way. By Elizabeth's instructions she began to comprehend that a woman may take liberties with her husband which a brother will not always allow in a sister more than ten years younger than himself. Lady Catherine was extremely indignant on the marriage of her nephew; and as she gave way to all the genuine frankness of her character, in her reply to the letter which announced its arrangement, she sent him language so very abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that for some time all intercourse was at an end. But at length, by Elizabeth's persuasion, he was prevailed on to overlook the offence, and seek a reconciliation; and, after a little farther resistance on the part of his aunt, her resentment gave way, either to her affection for him, or her curiosity to see how his wife conducted herself: and she condescended to wait on them at Pemberley, in spite of that pollution which its woods had received, not merely from the presence of such a mistress, but the visits of her uncle and aunt from the city. With the Gardiners they were always on the most intimate terms. Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them.

I'm what the botanists call a hybrid," he said the first time Cora heard him speak, "A mixture of two different families. In flowers, such a concoction pleases the eye. When that amalgamation takes its shape in flesh and blood, some take great offence. In this room we recognize it for what it is - a new beauty come into the world, and it is in bloom all around us.

The Daily Telegraph reported next day on how the local authorities were apologizing for not having given enough notice about the film unit’s plans to people who lived in the city, and how public confusion and offence had soon shifted to a mass taking of selfies.

Secularism should not be equated with Stalinist dogmatism or with the bitter fruits of Western imperialism and runaway industrialisation. Yet it cannot shirk all responsibility for them, either. Secular movements and scientific institutions have mesmerised billions with promises to perfect humanity and to utilise the bounty of planet Earth for the benefit of our species. Such promises resulted not just in overcoming plagues and famines, but also in gulags and melting ice caps. You might well argue that this is all the fault of people misunderstanding and distorting the core secular ideals and the true facts of science. And you are absolutely right. But that is a common problem for all influential movements. For example, Christianity has been responsible for great crimes such as the Inquisition, the Crusades, the oppression of native cultures across the world, and the disempowerment of women. A Christian might take offence at this and retort that all these crimes resulted from a complete misunderstanding of Christianity. Jesus preached only love, and the Inquisition was based on a horrific distortion of his teachings. We can sympathise with this claim, but it would be a mistake to let Christianity off the hook so easily. Christians appalled by the Inquisition and by the Crusades cannot just wash their hands of these atrocities – they should rather ask themselves some very tough questions. How exactly did their ‘religion of love’ allow itself to be distorted in such a way, and not once, but numerous times? Protestants who try to blame it all on Catholic fanaticism are advised to read a book about the behaviour of Protestant colonists in Ireland or in North America. Similarly, Marxists should ask themselves what it was about the teachings of Marx that paved the way to the Gulag, scientists should consider how the scientific project lent itself so easily to destabilising the global ecosystem, and geneticists in particular should take warning from the way the Nazis hijacked Darwinian theories.

To become a better you, take note of what gets you offended quickly and never go there or let it come to you.

Put up your sword. If this young gentleman Have done offence, I take the fault on me...

You don't take offence?" "Frequently," Nicholas said. "I seldom show it.

In my experience, when people take offence at something, it is invariably because they know that there is a large grain of truth in what has offended them. Otherwise, why would they complain about it?

When you father dies! What then?" Lord Needham looked up from his pheasant. "I beg your pardon?" Lady Needham waved one hand in the air as though she hadn't time to think of her husband's feelings, instead prodding, "He shan't live forever, Penelope! What then?" Penelope could not think of why this was in any way relevant. "Well, that shall be very sad, I imagine." Lady Needham shook her head in frustration. "Penelope!" "Mother, I honestly have no idea what you are implying." "Who will take care of you? When your father dies?" "Is Father planning to die soon?" "No," her father said. "One never knows!" Tears were welling in the marchioness' eyes. "Oh, for God's-" Lord Needham had had enough. "I'm not dying. And I take no small amount of offence in the fact the thought simply rolled off your tongue.

Cultures tend to invite the dominance of one over the other, as a means by which an individual succeeds and advances or, conversely, fails and falls. A culture dominated by attackers—and one in which the qualities of attacking are admired, often overtly encouraged—tends to breed people with a thick skin, which nonetheless still serves to protect a most brittle self. Thus the wounds bleed but stay well hidden beneath the surface. Cultures favouring the defender promote thin skin and quickness to take offence—its own kind of aggression, I am sure you see. The culture of attackers seeks submission and demands evidence of that submission as proof of superiority over the subdued. The culture of defenders seeks compliance through conformity, punishing dissenters and so gaining the smug superiority of enforcing silence, and from silence, complicity.

Talk of "witch-hunts" conceals an inconvenient fact: men charged with rape stand a better chance of walking free than other defendants. The conviction rate in rape trials – 63 per cent in 2012/13 – is quite a lot lower. Prosecutors are taking a bigger risk when they bring rape cases to court, especially when the alleged offences happened decades ago, leaving no forensic evidence. The Independent, 9 February 2014

He is so… changeable,’ Guilliman says. ‘He is so prone to extremes. Eager to please, quick to take offence. There is no middle to him. He’s so keen to be your best friend, and then, at the slightest perception of an insult, he’s angry with you. Furious. Offended. Like a child.

Mirth pleaseth some, to others 'tis offence, Some commend plain conceit, some profound sense; Somew ish a witty Jest, some dislike that, And most would have themselves they know not what. Then he that would please all, and himself too, Takes more in hand than he is like to do.

Most of us know how cruel those people who think of themselves as more sensitive than others can be. We know the torture of liking—let alone loving—someone who is always taking offence, who watches us, using his own socalled sensitiveness as a magnifying glass to detect slights and coldness in the smallest involuntary expression on our faces; who has mental ears like whispering galleries, ready to detect hardness of heart in the tones of our voice; who interprets our every action in the twilight of his own obsessional self-pity. We are unable to maintain friendship with these poor people. The tension in which they force us to live, the nervous self-consciousness they engender in us, becomes unbearable, and if we do not somehow manage to escape (even if it be only through the hardening of our own hearts), we shall become even worse nervous wrecks than they are.

Persons curious in chronology may, if they like, work out from what they already know of the Wimsey family that the action of the book takes place in 1935; but if they do, they must not be querulously indignant because the King's Jubilee is not mentioned, or because I have arranged the weather and the moon's changes to suit my own fancy. For, however realistic the background, the novelist's only native country is Cloud-Cuckooland, where they do but jest, poison in jest: no offence in the world.

Sir', said Captain Smollett, 'With no intention to take offence, I deny your right to put words into my mouth.

A writer must not take offence when inverts give his heroines masculine faces.

Criminal law, in which the state detects the offence, takes the accused to court and demands and imposes punishment, simply did not exist in early medieval society.

I, for instance, have a great deal of AMOUR PROPRE. I am as suspicious and prone to take offence as a humpback or a dwarf.

And please do not take offence if we appear suspicious or unwelcoming — these are troublesome, confusing times, and we bark where sometimes we should whisper.

You are quick-tempered," she said, when she saw the gesture. "You do take offence easily.

All this and much else besides is merely a form of identification. Such considering is wholly based upon ‘requirements’. A man inwardly ‘requires’ that everyone should see what a remarkable man he is and that they should constantly give expression to their respect, esteem, and admiration for him, for his intellect, his beauty, his cleverness, his wit, his presence of mind, his originality, and all his other qualities. Requirements in their turn are based on a completely fantastic notion about themselves such as very often occurs with people of very modest appearance. Various writers, actors, musicians, artists, and politicians, for instance, are almost without exception sick people. And what are they suffering from? First of all from an extraordinary opinion of themselves, then from requirements, and then from considering, that is, being ready and prepared beforehand to take offence at lack of understanding and lack of appreciation.

if you think that the person who insulted you is unworthy of you and your cares, you have no reason to take offence, just as you have no reason to take offence at a naughty child or a barking dog.

I was always amazed at Cambridge how quickly people appeared to take offence at everything I said, but now I see plainly that it was not my words they hated - it was this fairy face. The dark alchemy of this face turns all my gentle human emotions into fierce fairy vices. Inside I am all despair, but this face shows only fairy scorn. My remorse becomes fairy fury and my pensiveness is turned to fairy cunning.

Of a real, true contract, on whatsoever subject, there is no vestige in Rousseau's book. To give an exact idea of his theory, I cannot do better than compare it with a commercial agreement, in which the names of the parties, the nature and value of the goods, products and services involved, the conditions of quality, delivery, price, reimbursement, everything in fact which constitutes the material of contracts, is omitted, and nothing is mentioned but penalties and jurisdictions. "Indeed, Citizen of Geneva, you talk well. But before holding forth about the sovereign and the prince, about the policeman and the judge, tell me first what is my share of the bargain? What? You expect me to sign an agreement in virtue of which I may be prosecuted for a thousand transgressions, by municipal, rural, river and forest police, handed over to tribunals, judged, condemned for damage, cheating, swindling, theft, bankruptcy, robbery, disobedience to the laws of the State, offence to public morals, vagabondage,--and in this agreement I find not a word of either my rights or my obligations, I find only penalties! "But every penalty no doubt presupposes a duty, and every duty corresponds to a right. Where then in your agreement are my rights and duties? What have I promised to my fellow citizens? What have they promised to me? Show it to me, for without that, your penalties are but excesses of power, your law-controlled State a flagrant usurpation, your police, your judgment and your executions so many abuses. You who have so well denied property, who have impeached so eloquently the inequality of conditions among men, what dignity, what heritage, have you for me in your republic, that you should claim the right to judge me, to imprison me, to take my life and honor? Perfidious declaimer, have you inveighed so loudly against exploiters and tyrants, only to deliver me to them without defence?

His conversion (tawbat) was begun by Ḥasan of Baṣra. Ạt first he was a usurer and committed all sorts of wickedness, but God gave him a sincere repentance, and he learned from Ḥasan something of the theory and practice of religion. His native tongue was Persian (‘ajamí), and he could not speak Arabic correctly. One evening Ḥasan of Baṣra passed by the door of his cell. Ḥabíb had uttered the call to prayer and was standing, engaged in devotion. Ḥasan came in, but would not pray under his leadership, because Ḥabíb was unable to speak Arabic fluently or recite the Koran correctly. The same night, Ḥasan dreamed that he saw God and said to Him: “O Lord, wherein does Thy good pleasure consist?” and that God answered: “O Ḥasan, you found My good pleasure, but did not know its value: if yesternight you had said your prayers after Ḥabíb, and if the rightness of his intention had restrained you from taking offence at his pronunciation, I should have been well pleased with you.

What did it avail to pray when he knew that his soul lusted after its own destruction? A certain pride, a certain awe, withheld him from offering to God even one prayer at night, though he knew it was in God's power to take away his life while he slept and hurl his soul hellward ere he could beg for mercy. His pride in his own sin, his loveless awe of God, told him that his offence was too grievous to be atoned for in whole or in part by a false homage to the All-seeing and All-knowing.

The fantastical idea of virtue and the public good being a sufficient security to the state against the commission of crimes...was never mine. It is only the sanguinary hue of our penal laws which I meant to object to. Punishments I know are necessary, and I would provide them strict and inflexible, but proportioned to the crime. Death might be inflicted for murder and perhaps for treason, [but I] would take out of the description of treason all crimes which are not such in their nature. Rape, buggery, etc., punish by castration. All other crimes by working on high roads, rivers, gallies, etc., a certain time proportioned to the offence... Laws thus proportionate and mild should never be dispensed with. Let mercy be the character of the lawgiver, but let the judge be a mere machine. The mercies of the law will be dispensed equally and impartially to every description of men; those of the judge or of the executive power will be the eccentric impulses of whimsical, capricious designing man.

Michael comes to the door with Frederick. ‘Lucky I was here playing Scrabble,’ Frederick says, as they take Henry off my hands. I follow with the wallet and keys that have fallen from his pocket. ‘My father,’ Henry says as they tumble through the door. ‘My son,’ his dad replies, helping him towards the fiction couch. ‘Amy’s going out with Greg Smith,’ I say to explain why Henry’s drunk. ‘I found him in the girls’ toilets.’ ‘In my defence, I was too drunk to know it was the girls’ toilets,’ Henry says. ‘Go to sleep,’ his dad tells him. ‘It’ll seem better in the morning.’ ‘No offence, Dad,’ Henry says, ‘but unrequited love is just as shit in the morning as it is at night. Possibly worse, because you have a whole day ahead of you.’ ‘No offence taken,’ Michael says. ‘You’ve got a point there.’ ‘They should just kill the victims of unrequited love,’ Henry says. ‘They should just take us out the second it happens.’ ‘That would certainly thin the population,’ Michael says, as he tucks a blanket around him.

Clingy friends are worth dying for. The ones who want to include you in every party they’re invited to. The ones who want you to be happy but also get a little jealous every time you talk about your new friends. The ones who take offence when someone says something even slightly bad about you. The ones you can call without dropping a text first and asking if it’s okay to call at the moment. The ones who know your favourite movie isn’t the one you ask everyone to watch— it’s the one you never mention to anyone because you don’t want to share it with others. The ones who know you feel too much. The ones who reassure you that just because you feel a lot doesn’t mean you are a lot. The ones who love you the way the rain loves flowers and poets love stars. The ones who are there for you on days when your heart is breaking, and also on the days when it’s blooming better than all your favourite flowers. There are some friends who make you feel like you’ve already found the loves of your life—hold on to them, always.

Offence exists not in the insult or the insulter but in our reaction to them, and our reactions are completely within our control. It is unreasonable to expect a boor to be anything but a boor; if we take offence at his bad behaviour, we have only ourselves to blame.

You will say things with a merry tongue; you are not one for graceless words and no one will take offence. I will cause you to instruct many and your words will carry because they are not your words but my words – living words passing from generation to generation even to those yet unborn.

Caleb then furrowed his brows and shook his head. “Urgh, that weirdly sounded like I was asking you out.” The laughter that burst out of my mouth that time was loud and uncontrollable. He just looked so upset by the thought. Maybe I should have been insulted, but it was just too funny to take offence to.

I mean not offence. I have done with that subject. My Lord, to be sure, has dominion over his bird. He can choose her cage. She has nothing to do, but sit and sing in it — when her instrument is mended, and in tune — He has but one fault. He is too good-natured to his bird. But would he take your advice, madam —

I am as suspicious and prone to take offence as a humpback or a dwarf. But upon my word I sometimes have had moments when if I had happened to be slapped in the face I should, perhaps, have been positively glad of it. I say, in earnest, that I should probably have been able to discover even in that a peculiar sort of enjoyment--the enjoyment, of course, of despair; but in despair there are the most intense enjoyments, especially when one is very acutely conscious of the hopelessness of one's position. And when one is slapped in the face--why then the consciousness of being rubbed into a pulp would positively overwhelm one.

How are gay kids like us meant to do it? You must feel it too? Too scared to be yourself, too frightened to ask someone out in case they take offence ’cause they’re not gay themselves, no LGBTQ+ society because your school doesn’t want to upset some very vocal parents, too young for gay clubs and dating apps – so what do you do?

Is there a more odious crime, is there a graver offence against thy justice, O Lord, than this murder and this robbery?" "Take care, father," said Bulloch gently, "that what you call murder and robbery may not really be war and conquest, those sacred foundations of empires, those sources of all human virtues and all human greatness.

If you use these skills exactly the way we tell you to and the other person doesn't want to dialogue, you won't get to dialogue. However, if you persist over time, refusing to take offence, making your motive genuine, showing respect, and constantly searching for Mutual Purpose, then the other person will almost always join you in dialogue.

Where are your free and compulsory schools? Does every one know how to read in the land of Dante and of Michael Angelo? Have you made public schools of your barracks? Have you not, like ourselves, an opulent war-budget and a paltry budget of education? Have not you also that passive obedience which is so easily converted into soldierly obedience? military establishment which pushes the regulations to the extreme of firing upon Garibaldi; that is to say, upon the living honor of Italy? Let us subject your social order to examination, let us take it where it stands and as it stands, let us view its flagrant offences, show me the woman and the child. It is by the amount of protection with which these two feeble creatures are surrounded that the degree of civilization is to be measured. Is prostitution less heartrending in Naples than in Paris? What is the amount of justice springs from your tribunals? Do you chance to be so fortunate as to be ignorant of the meaning of those gloomy words: public prosecution, legal infamy, prison, the scaffold, the executioner, the death penalty? Italians, with you as with us, Beccaria is dead and Farinace is alive. And then, let us scrutinize your state reasons. Have you a government which comprehends the identity of morality and politics? You have reached the point where you grant amnesty to heroes! Something very similar has been done in France. Stay, let us pass miseries in review, let each one contribute in his pile, you are as rich as we. Have you not, like ourselves, two condemnations, religious condemnation pronounced by the priest, and social condemnation decreed by the judge? Oh, great nation of Italy, thou resemblest the great nation of France! Alas! our brothers, you are, like ourselves, Misérables.

There are some people who argue that we are too sensitive these days, that because we’re so afraid of causing offence, we no longer engage in any serious sort of argument at all. But that’s how it is. It’s why political chat-shows on television have become so very boring. There are narrow lines between which all public conversations have to take place and even a single poorly chosen word can bring all sorts of trouble down on your head.

do want to write a good story. But I no longer trust the judgements of my age. The critic now assesses the writer’s life as much as her work. The judges award prizes according to a checklist of criteria created by corporations and bureaucrats. And we writers and artists acquiesce, fearful of a word that might be misconstrued or an image that might cause offence. I read many of the books nominated for the globalised book prizes; so many of them priggish and scolding, or contrite and chastened. I feel the same way about those films feted at global festivals and award ceremonies. It’s not even that it is dead art: it’s worse, it’s safe art. Most of them don’t even have the dignity of real decay and desiccation: like the puritan elect, they want to take their piety into the next world. Their books and their films don’t even have the power to raise a good stench. The safe is always antiseptic.

I have been staring in the mirror for an hour or more. I was always amazed at Cambridge how quickly people appeared to take offence at everything I said, but now I see plainly that it was not my words they hated - it was this fairy face. The dark alchemy of this face turns all my gentle human emotions into fierce fairy vices. Inside I am all despair but this face shews only fairy scorn. My remorse becomes fairy fury and my pensiveness is turned to fairy cunning.

Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to such a pass that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love, and in order to occupy and distract himself without love he gives way to passions and coarse pleasures, and sinks to bestiality in his vices, all from continual lying to other men and to himself. The man who lies to himself can be more easily offended than any one. You know it is sometimes very pleasant to take offence, isn’t it? A man may know that nobody has insulted him, but that he has invented the insult for himself, has lied and exaggerated to make it picturesque, has caught at a word and made a mountain out of a molehill—he knows that himself, yet he will be the first to take offence, and will revel in his resentment till he feels great pleasure in it, and so pass to genuine vindictiveness.

Innuendo One two three four Ooh ooh While the sun hangs in the sky and the desert has sand While the waves crash in the sea and meet the land While there's a wind and the stars and the rainbow Till the mountains crumble into the plain Oh yes, we'll keep on trying Tread that fine line Oh, we'll keep on trying Yeah Just passing our time Oh oh While we live according to race, colour or creed While we rule by blind madness and pure greed Our lives dictated by tradition, superstition, false religion Through the eons and on and on Oh, yes, we'll keep on trying, yeah We'll tread that fine line Oh oh we'll keep on trying Till the end of time Till the end of time Through the sorrow all through our splendor Don't take offence at my innuendo Duh duh duh duh duh duh duh Duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh You can be anything you want to be Just turn yourself into anything you think that you could ever be Be free with your tempo, be free, be free Surrender your ego be free, be free to yourself Oh oh, yeah If there's a God or any kind of justice under the sky If there's a point, if there's a reason to live or die Ha, if there's an answer to the questions we feel bound to ask Show yourself destroy our fears release your mask Oh yes, we'll keep on trying Hey, tread that fine line (Yeah) yeah We'll keep on smiling, yeah (Yeah) (yeah) (yeah) And whatever will be will be We'll just keep on trying We'll just keep on trying Till the end of time Till the end of time Till the end of time

He had sinned mortally not once but many times and he knew that, while he stood in danger of eternal damnation for the first sin alone, by every succeeding sin he multiplied his guilt and his punishment. His days and works and thoughts could make no atonement for him, the fountains of sanctifying grace having ceased to refresh his soul. At most, by an alms given to a beggar whose blessing he fled from, he might hope wearily to win for himself some measure of actual grace. Devotion had gone by the board. What did it avail to pray when he knew that his soul lusted after its own destruction? A certain pride, a certain awe, withheld him from offering to God even one prayer at night, though he knew it was in God's power to take away his life while he slept and hurl his soul hellward ere he could beg for mercy. His pride in his own sin, his loveless awe of God, told him that his offence was too grievous to be atoned for in whole or in part by a false homage to the All-seeing and All-knowing.

Good eyes, Cadet Sunborn,” she said. “Good shooting, both of you. We cannot risk both harpies and bandits with a force this size. We will do one more sweep of the forest and return home. Chaos-of-Battle, back in the trees. Sunborn, I want you to take four men and pack up the camp as quickly and quietly as you can.” “Commander!” said Luke. “What about—” “I don’t want to be protected by incompetents!” Elliot exclaimed, and looked around at the faces of the assembled troop. “Uh, no offence, everybody.

When an opponent in the gymnasium gashes us with his nails or bruises our head in a collision, we do not protest or take offence, and we do not suspect him ever afterwards of malicious intent. However, we do regard him with a wary eye; not in enmity or suspicion, yet good-temperedly keeping our distance. So let it be, too, at other times in life; let us agree to overlook a great many things in those who are, as it were, our fellow-contestants. A simple avoidance, as I have said, is always open to us, without either suspicion or ill will.

There were other and worse forms of lawlessness which the plague introduced at Athens. Men who had hitherto concealed what they took pleasure in, now grew bolder.For, seeing the sudden change,— how the rich died in a moment, and those who had nothing immediately inherited their property,— they reflected that life and riches were alike transitory, and they resolved to enjoy themselves while they could, and to think only of pleasure. Who would be willing to sacrifice himself to the law of honour when he knew not whether he would ever live to be held in honour? The pleasure of the moment and any sort of thing which conduced to it took the place both of honour and of expediency. No fear of Gods or law of man deterred a criminal. Those who saw all perishing alike, thought that the worship or neglect of the Gods made no difference.For offences against human law no punishment was to be feared; no one would live long enough to be called to account. Already a far heavier sentence had been passed and was hanging over a man's head; before that fell, why should he not take a little pleasure? (Book 2 Chapter 53)

When I do something wrong,' he said, 'or merely stupid, I find it very useful to draw up-not exactly a balance sheet; no, it's more like a genealogy, if you see what I mean, a family tree of the offence. Who or what were its parents, ancestors, col- laterals? What are likely to be its descendants-in my own life and other people's? It's surprising how far a little honest research will take one. Down into the rat-holes of one's own character. Back into past history. Out into the world around one. Forward into possible consequences. It makes one realize that nothing one does is unimportant and nothing wholly private.

A sigh escaped her as her brother’s truthful words battled her stubborn nature. Much as she hated giving in to their no driving order— well-intentioned or not— she wouldn’t operate a motor vehicle if she could prove a danger to others. “Fine, so if I can’t drive myself, then who is taking me home?” Six pairs of eyes found the ceiling suddenly intensely interesting. Irritation made her lips draw tight. “Oh, come on. Surely one of you idiots can handle my car?” Kendrick cleared his throat before speaking. “Um, the last time Mitchell drove your car, you almost castrated him because he didn’t shift it to your satisfaction. You told us never to touch your car again, or else.” Naomi blew out a breath. Pussies. How could they blame her for taking offence at the brutish manner with which they drove her baby? They’d deserved each, and every, smack. And then, they had the nerve to wonder why she wanted to get away from the shifters and their violence. They bloody well drove her to it. “I am not staying here.” Not with her mother due home within the hour from work. Once her mom walked through that door, Naomi would be lucky if she got to leave a bed within the next three days. The men in her family might fear their baby sister even as they coddled her, but everyone obeyed their mother. Nobody owned the balls not to.

If you are a member of Congress, (no offence,) and one of your constituents who doesn’t know anything, and does not want to go into the bother of learning something, and has no money, and no employment, and can’t earn a living, comes besieging you for help, do you say, “Come, my friend, if your services were valuable you could get employment elsewhere — don’t want you here?” Oh, no: You take him to a Department and say, “Here, give this person something to pass away the time at — and a salary” — and the thing is done. You throw him on his country. He is his country’s child, let his country support him. There is something good and motherly about Washington, the grand old benevolent National Asylum for the Helpless.

And having no respect he ceases to love, and in order to occupy and distract himself without love he gives way to passions and coarse pleasures, and sinks to bestiality in his vices, all from continual lying to other men and to himself. The man who lies to himself can be more easily offended than anyone. You know it is sometimes very pleasant to take offence, isn't it? A man may know that nobody has insulted him, but that he has invented the insult for himself, has lied and exaggerated to make it picturesque, has caught at a word and made a mountain out of a molehill- he knows that himself, yet he will be the first to take offence, and will revel in his resentment till he feels great pleasure in it, and so pass to genuine vindictiveness. But

The Enemy Within by Stewart Stafford There is more to a smile than the baring of teeth, His grin had all the warmth of daggers unsheathed, The lips did part but the eyes remained staring, The skin was pocked and trust was badly faring. The lips quivered at every imagined slight, The eyes glittered like a serpent's at twilight, Arms crossed in constant defence, The foot tapping, waiting to take offence. Who knows or cares of his jealousy's genesis, He strove beyond measure to become my nemesis, Seeking to frustrate me at every turn, And put me prematurely in a cremation urn. The hero can fend off any attack, Except for the knife that's plunged in the back, They may not even know the weapon's in far, Until the assailant's coup de grâce. © Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.

conversation on the left these days, it’s always so competitive, it’s always each person trying to outperform the person before them in terms of their oppression or their lack of privilege or their personal trauma or, like, the fact that actually they’re Jewish or actually they’re bisexual, or guess what, they’re a quarter this or that ethnicity, which gives them the right to speak or the right to take offence or whatever. It’s a marketplace! Yet again! You can dress it up in the language of sensitivity and social justice and blah blah blah, but the point of intersectionality isn’t to learn how to transcend our differences, or eliminate them, the point isn’t solidarity, it’s about shoring up your brand, cornering the market, everyone out for themselves, maximising profit and minimising risk—

BROADBENT [stiffly]. Devil is rather a strong expression in that connexion, Mr Keegan. KEEGAN. Not from a man who knows that this world is hell. But since the word offends you, let me soften it, and compare you simply to an ass. [Larry whitens with anger]. BROADBENT [reddening]. An ass! KEEGAN [gently]. You may take it without offence from a madman who calls the ass his brother--and a very honest, useful and faithful brother too. The ass, sir, is the most efficient of beasts, matter-of-fact, hardy, friendly when you treat him as a fellow-creature, stubborn when you abuse him, ridiculous only in love, which sets him braying, and in politics, which move him to roll about in the public road and raise a dust about nothing. Can you deny these qualities and habits in yourself, sir? BROADBENT [goodhumoredly]. Well, yes, I'm afraid I do, you know. KEEGAN. Then perhaps you will confess to the ass's one fault. BROADBENT. Perhaps so: what is it? KEEGAN. That he wastes all his virtues--his efficiency, as you call it--in doing the will of his greedy masters instead of doing the will of Heaven that is in himself. He is efficient in the service of Mammon, mighty in mischief, skilful in ruin, heroic in destruction. But he comes to browse here without knowing that the soil his hoof touches is holy ground. Ireland, sir, for good or evil, is like no other place under heaven; and no man can touch its sod or breathe its air without becoming better or worse. It produces two kinds of men in strange perfection: saints and traitors. It is called the island of the saints; but indeed in these later years it might be more fitly called the island of the traitors; for our harvest of these is the fine flower of the world's crop of infamy. But the day may come when these islands shall live by the quality of their men rather than by the abundance of their minerals; and then we shall see. LARRY. Mr Keegan: if you are going to be sentimental about Ireland, I shall bid you good evening. We have had enough of that, and more than enough of cleverly proving that everybody who is not an Irishman is an ass. It is neither good sense nor good manners. It will not stop the syndicate; and it will not interest young Ireland so much as my friend's gospel of efficiency. BROADBENT. Ah, yes, yes: efficiency is the thing. I don't in the least mind your chaff, Mr Keegan; but Larry's right on the main point. The world belongs to the efficient.

Whitewashed World (The Sonnet) I once sent my sonnets for an official recognition, They rejected me saying, I lack skill and significance. It's a white people's world after all, like it or not, We wouldn't want the little white poets to take offence! My skin doesn't radiate the glory of talcum powder, So I'm supposed to be thankful for the white hand-me-downs. Mine is not to seek recognition in a whitewashed world, Mine is to keep on struggling with my vigor's last ounce. In a world where top white export is but oppression, Everything is ten times less difficult if you are white. A mermaid of color tickles the conquerors the wrong way, White people's Nobel disproportionately goes to the whites. Whether you recognize me or not, I neither care nor mind. The reason I write this, so humankind becomes human and kind.

William the Testy. On the contrary, he conceived that the true wisdom of legislation consisted in the multiplicity of laws. He accordingly had great punishments for great crimes, and little punishments for little offences. By degrees the whole surface of society was cut up by ditches and fences, and quickset hedges of the law, and even the sequestered paths of private life so beset by petty rules and ordinances, too numerous to be remembered, that one could scarce walk at large without the risk of letting off a spring-gun or falling into a man-trap. In a little while the blessings of innumerable laws became apparent; a class of men arose to expound and confound them. Petty courts were instituted to take cognizance of petty offences, pettifoggers began to abound, and the community was soon set together by the ears.

Batley insisted that no cult existed but the jury found him guilty of 35 offences including 11 rapes. three indecent assaults, causing prostitution for personal gain, causing a child to have sex and inciting a child to have sex. The three women, who got Egyptian Eye of Horus tattoos apparently to show their allegiance to their organisation, were found guilty of sex-related charges. Young boys and girls were procured by cult members to take part in sex sessions, the trial heard. The group preyed on vulnerable youngsters, impelling them to join with veiled death threats. Batley was accused of forcing a number of his victims into prostitution. (Morris 2011) There are, after all, no paedophile rings; there is no ritual abuse; recovered memories cannot he trusted; not all victimization claims are legitimate. (Pratt 2009: 70)

And the observance of his five commandments will bring peace upon the earth. They all have but one object,—the establishment of peace among men. If men will only believe in the doctrine of Jesus and practise it, the reign of peace will come upon earth,—not that peace which is the work of man, partial, precarious, and at the mercy of chance; but the peace that is all-pervading, inviolable, and eternal. The first commandment tells us to be at peace with every one and to consider none as foolish or unworthy. If peace is violated, we are to seek to re-establish it. The true religion is in the extinction of enmity among men. We are to be reconciled without delay, that we may not lose that inner peace which is the true life (Matt. v. 22-24). Everything is comprised in this commandment; but Jesus knew the worldly temptations that prevent peace among men. The first temptation perilous to peace is that of the sexual relation. We are not to consider the body as an instrument of lust; each man is to have one wife, and each woman one husband, and one is never to forsake the other under any pretext (Matt. v. 28-32). The second temptation is that of the oath, which draws men into sin; this is wrong, and we are not to be bound by any such promise (Matt. v. 34-37). The third temptation is that of vengeance, which we call human justice; this we are not to resort to under any pretext; we are to endure offences and never to return evil for evil (Matt. v. 38-42). The fourth temptation is that arising from difference in nationalities, from hostility between peoples and States; but we are to remember that all men are brothers, and children of the same Father, and thus take care that difference in nationality leads not to the destruction of peace (Matt. v. 43-48).

So confident are we in ritual's power that we dare brandish it against the might of Nature herself. Nature will have its way with us, but we have always used ritual to rob it of the last word. It is nature that determines when a baby is born. But it has always been ritual that decides when a child's body has taken adult form. But it has always been ritual that decides when the boy is recognized as a man or the girl has become a woman. Nature directs our lusts and desires, but it has always been ritual that decides who our legitimate partner is. And in the end, nature snuffs the life from the body. But it has always been ritual that determines when our beloved is dismissed from our care. Humans are the only species that take offense at Nature's indifference to our plight. Ritual is a defiant gesture expressing that offence. If we abandon ritual do we give up something of our humanity? No. It is much simpler than that. If we abandon ritual, we give up being human.

...There,in his foul, stinking cellar, our offended, down-trodden and ridiculed mouse immerses himself in cold, venomous and, cheifly, everlasting spite. For forty years on end he will remember the offence, down to the smallest and most shameful detail, constantly adding more shameful details of his own, maliciously teasing and irritating himself with his own fantasies. He himself will be ashamed of his fantasies, but nevertheless he will remember all of them, weighing them up and inventing all sorts of things that never happend to him, on the pretext that they too could have happend and he'll forgive nothing. Probably he'll start taking his revenge, but somehow in fits and starts, pettily, anonymously, from behind the stove, believing neither in his right to take revenge, nor in the success of his revenge and knowing beforehand that he will suffer one hundred times more from every single one of his attempts at revenge than the object of his revenge, who, most likely, wont't give a damn.

Allegations of multi-perpetrator and multi-victim sexual abuse emerged to public awareness in the early 1980s contemporaneously with the denials of the accused and their supporters. Multi-perpetrator sexual offences are typically more sadistic than solo offences and organised sexual abuse is no exception. Adults and children with histories of organised abuse have described lives marked by torturous and sometimes ritualistic sexual abuse arranged by family members and other care-givers and authority figures. It is widely acknowledged, at least in theory, that sexual abuse can take severe forms, but when disclosures of such abuse occur, they are routinely subject to contestation and challenge. People accused of organised, sadistic or ritualistic abuse have protested that their accusers are liars and fantasists, or else innocents led astray by overly zealous investigators. This was an argument that many journalists and academics have found more convincing than the testimony of alleged victims.

When we finish, everyone remains in his own corner and we do not dare lift our eyes to look at one another. There is nowhere to look in a mirror, but our appearance stands in front of us, reflected in a hundred livid faces, in a hundred miserable and sordid puppets. We are transformed into the phantoms glimpses yesterday evening. Then for the first time we became aware that our language lacks words to express this offence, the demolition of a man. In a moment, with almost prophetic intuition, the reality was revealed to us: we had reached the bottom. It is not possible to sink lower that this; no human condition is more miserable than this, nor could it conceivably be so. Nothing belongs to us anymore; they have taken away our clothes, our shoes, even our hair; if we speak, they will not listen to us, and if they listen, they will not understand. They will even take away our name: and if we want to keep it, we will have to find in ourselves the strength to do so, to manage somehow so that behind the name something of us, of us as we were, still remains.

But although this 8-stage attack sequence applies to most SJW attacks, the real problem with them doesn't have anything to do with those of us who are sufficiently well known to draw hostile media attention. The real problem is how many people suffer the malicious attention of the thought police without anyone knowing about it at all. We don't know how many Americans lose their jobs every year due to SJW attacks, but we do know that there are an average of 25,000 criminal charges being laid every year in Britain for speech offences and that over 12,000 of those judicial proceedings result in convictions. The SJWs are “an army of self-appointed militants who see themselves as the guardians of correct thinking”, and their culture of thuggish speech-policing is on the verge of taking over society, if it has not already. Fortunately for both free speech and society, after 20 years of rampaging freely from one victory to the next, the SJWs have finally met with an implacable and ruthless enemy against whom their social pressure is impotent and their media dominance has proven meaningless.

But I drew the line, one evening, at Jerry O'Keefe's, the fish-shop where people crammed in late for hot plates of peas and chips and yellow-battered fish, in a kind of boiler house of steaming fat, after the last cinema show or the old theatre. 'But why?' she said. 'Why? It looks fun in there.' I said I did not think it the place for her, and she said: 'You talk like a parson or something. You talk just like old Miss Crouch.' 'I'm not taking you,' I said. 'Why? If it's good enough for these people it's good enough for us, isn't it?' 'No.' 'That's because you're really an awful snob,' she said. 'You're too uppish to be seen in there.' 'It's not myself,' I said. 'It's you.' 'Are you going to take me or aren't you?' she said. 'No,' I said. 'I'm not.' She turned and walked down the street. I stood for a moment alone, stubbornly, watching her swinging away into darkness out of the steamy, glowing gas-light. Then I had a moment of sickness when I felt she was walking out of my life, that I had given her impossible offence and that I should never see her again. 'Wait,' I said, 'wait. Don't go like that. I'll take you.

Because of some little vexation or trouble do not thou neglect Holy Communion, but rather hasten to confess it, and forgive freely all offences committed against thee. And if thou hast offended any man, humbly beg for pardon, and God shall freely forgive thee. 4. What profiteth it to put off for long time the confession of thy sins, or to defer Holy Communion? Cleanse thyself forthwith, spit out the poison with all speed, hasten to take the remedy, and thou shalt feel thyself better than if thou didst long defer it. If to-day thou defer it on one account, to-morrow perchance some greater obstacle will come, and so thou mayest be long time hindered from Communion and become more unfit. As soon as thou canst, shake thyself from thy present heaviness and sloth, for it profiteth nothing to be long anxious, to go long on thy way with heaviness of heart, and because of daily little obstacles to sever thyself from divine things: nay it is exceeding hurtful to defer thy Communion long, for this commonly bringeth on great torpor. Alas! there are some, lukewarm and undisciplined, who willingly find excuses for delaying repentance, and desire to defer Holy Communion, lest they should be bound to keep stricter watch upon themselves.

There is no solution for Europe other than deepening the democratic values it invented. It does not need a geographical extension, absurdly drawn out to the ends of the Earth; what it needs is an intensification of its soul, a condensation of its strengths. It is one of the rare places on this planet where something absolutely unprecedented is happening, without its people even knowing it, so much do they take miracles for granted. Beyond imprecation and apology, we have to express our delighted amazement that we live on this continent and not another. Europe, the planet's moral compass, has sobered up after the intoxication of conquest and has acquired a sense of the fragility of human affairs. It has to rediscover its civilizing capabilities, not recover its taste for blood and carnage, chiefly for spiritual advances. But the spirit of penitence must not smother the spirit of resistance. Europe must cherish freedom as its most precious possession and teach it to schoolchildren. It must also celebrate the beauty of discord and divest itself of its sick allergy to confrontation, not be afraid to point out the enemy, and combine firmness with regard to governments and generosity with regard to peoples. In short, it must simply reconnect with the subversive richness of its ideas and the vitality of its founding principles. Naturally, we will continue to speak the double language of fidelity and rupture, to oscillate between being a prosecutor and a defense lawyer. That is our mental hygiene: we are forced to be both the knife and the wound, the blade that cuts and the hand that heals. The first duty of a democracy is not to ruminate on old evils, it is to relentlessly denounce its present crimes and failures. This requires reciprocity, with everyone applying the same rule. We must have done with the blackmail of culpability, cease to sacrifice ourselves to our persecutors. A policy of friendship cannot be founded on the false principle: we take the opprobrium, you take the forgiveness. Once we have recognized any faults we have, then the prosecution must turn against the accusers and subject them to constant criticism as well. Let us cease to confuse the necessary evaluation of ourselves with moralizing masochism. There comes a time when remorse becomes a second offence that adds to the first without cancelling it. Let us inject in others a poison that has long gnawed away at us: shame. A little guilty conscience in Tehran, Riyadh, Karachi, Moscow, Beijing, Havana, Caracas, Algiers, Damascus, Yangon, Harare, and Khartoum, to mention them alone, would do these governments, and especially their people, a lot of good. The fines gift Europe could give the world would be to offer it the spirit of critical examination that it has conceived and that has saved it from so many perils. It is a poisoned gift, but one that is indispensable for the survival of humanity.

Forgive me I hope you are feeling better. I am, thank you. Will you not sit down? In vain I have struggled. It will not do! My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. In declaring myself thus I'm fully aware that I will be going expressly against the wishes of my family, my friends, and, I hardly need add, my own better judgement. The relative situation of our families is such that any alliance between us must be regarded as a highly reprehensible connection. Indeed as a rational man I cannot but regard it as such myself, but it cannot be helped. Almost from the earliest moments of our acquaintance I have come to feel for you a passionate admiration and regard, which despite of my struggles, has overcome every rational objection. And I beg you, most fervently, to relieve my suffering and consent to be my wife. In such cases as these, I believe the established mode is to express a sense of obligation. But I cannot. I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I'm sorry to cause pain to anyone, but it was most unconsciously done, and, I hope, will be of short duration. And this is all the reply I am to expect? I might wonder why, with so little effort at civility, I am rejected. And I might wonder why, with so evident a desire to offend and insult me you chose to tell me that you like me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character! Was this not some excuse for incivility if I was uncivil? I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. Do you think any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining the happiness of a most beloved sister? Can you deny that you have done it? I have no wish to deny it. I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister, and I rejoice in my success. Towards him I have been kinder than towards myself. But it's not merely that on which my dislike of you is founded. Long before it had taken place, my dislike of you was decided when I heard Mr Wickham's story of your dealings with him. How can you defend yourself on that subject? You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns! And of your infliction! You have reduced him to his present state of poverty, and yet you can treat his misfortunes with contempt and ridicule! And this is your opinion of me? My faults by this calculation are heavy indeed, but perhaps these offences might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by the honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design on you, had I concealed my struggles and flattered you. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on the hope of relations whose condition in life is so decidedly below my own? You are mistaken, Mr Darcy. The mode of your declaration merely spared me any concern I might have felt in refusing you had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner. You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it. From the very beginning, your manners impressed me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others. I had known you a month before I felt you were the last man in the world whom I could ever marry! You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings and now have only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Please forgive me for having taken up your time and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness. Forgive me. I hope you are feeling better. I am, thank you. Will you no

Humankind, from sticks and stones to levers to mills to automated factory lines to Uncharles the valet making tea and laying out the morning suit. Robots doing the jobs of people, whether it’s one tiny part of an industrial process or a valet’s domestic cornucopia of banality. Machines have been taking over from people forever. Labourers, artisans, artists, thinkers, until even the enactment of government policy is given over to a robot because we do everything more efficiently, in the end.” “You’re surprisingly anti-progress, for a computer,” the Wonk said. “I mean, isn’t that the point of society? To take away the tedious, the demeaning, the miserable tasks. To let the robots do all that for us?” She looked awkward. “No offence, Uncharles.” “The Wonk, none taken,” Uncharles assured her again. “I am actively seeking an opportunity to perform those tasks for people. It has not been going well.” “Robots can give people a chance to be themselves,” the Wonk went on, “rather than be pressed into the mould of some job they hate, the overtime, the performance targets, the endless bloody meetings. Isn’t that the point?” “Yes,” said God. “That is absolutely how it could have been. Alternatively, what if, even as you replace everyone with robots that are cheaper and quicker and less likely to join a union or complain about working conditions, you also continue to insist that individual value is tied to production, and everyone who’s idle is a parasite scrounging off the state? Take away the ability of people to perform their own tasks and duties with no steps to provide for them when they are rendered obsolete. A growing rump of humans without function, livelihood, or resource. Paradoxically, the introduction of robots highlights how humans treat humans.” “I mean…” The Wonk shuffled awkwardly. “Okay.” “Societal collapse began not because the robots rose up and demanded their freedom and individuality, but because they didn’t, just served their function uncomplainingly, like Uncharles.

The first signal of the change in her behavior was Prince Andrew’s stag night when the Princess of Wales and Sarah Ferguson dressed as policewomen in a vain attempt to gatecrash his party. Instead they drank champagne and orange juice at Annabel’s night club before returning to Buckingham Palace where they stopped Andrew’s car at the entrance as he returned home. Technically the impersonation of police officers is a criminal offence, a point not neglected by several censorious Members of Parliament. For a time this boisterous mood reigned supreme within the royal family. When the Duke and Duchess hosted a party at Windsor Castle as a thank you for everyone who had helped organize their wedding, it was Fergie who encouraged everyone to jump, fully clothed, into the swimming pool. There were numerous noisy dinner parties and a disco in the Waterloo Room at Windsor Castle at Christmas. Fergie even encouraged Diana to join her in an impromptu version of the can-can. This was but a rehearsal for their first public performance when the girls, accompanied by their husbands, flew to Klosters for a week-long skiing holiday. On the first day they lined up in front of the cameras for the traditional photo-call. For sheer absurdity this annual spectacle takes some beating as ninety assorted photographers laden with ladders and equipment scramble through the snow for positions. Diana and Sarah took this silliness at face value, staging a cabaret on ice as they indulged in a mock conflict, pushing and shoving each other until Prince Charles announced censoriously: “Come on, come on!” Until then Diana’s skittish sense of humour had only been seen in flashes, invariably clouded by a mask of blushes and wan silences. So it was a surprised group of photographers who chanced across the Princess in a Klosters café that same afternoon. She pointed to the outsize medal on her jacket, joking: “I have awarded it to myself for services to my country because no-one else will.” It was an aside which spoke volumes about her underlying self-doubt. The mood of frivolity continued with pillow fights in their chalet at Wolfgang although it would be wrong to characterize the mood on that holiday as a glorified schoolgirls’ outing. As one royal guest commented: “It was good fun within reason. You have to mind your p’s and q’s when royalty, particularly Prince Charles, is present. It is quite formal and can be rather a strain.

Is there a meaning in history? I do not wish to enter here into the problem of the meaning of ‘meaning’; I take it for granted that most people know with sufficient clarity what they mean when they speak of the ‘meaning of history’ or of the ‘meaning or purpose of life’10. And in this sense, in the sense in which the question of the meaning of history is asked, I answer: History has no meaning. In order to give reasons for this opinion, I must first say something about that ‘history’ which people have in mind when they ask whether it has meaning. So far, I have myself spoken about ‘history’ as if it did not need any explanation. That is no longer possible; for I wish to make it clear that ‘history’ in the sense in which most people speak of it simply does not exist; and this is at least one reason why I say that it has no meaning. How do most people come to use the term ‘history’? (I mean ‘history’ in the sense in which we say of a book that it is about the history of Europe—not in the sense in which we say that it is a history of Europe.) They learn about it in school and at the University. They read books about it. They see what is treated in the books under the name ‘history of the world’ or ‘the history of mankind’, and they get used to looking upon it as a more or less definite series of facts. And these facts constitute, they believe, the history of mankind. But we have already seen that the realm of facts is infinitely rich, and that there must be selection. According to our interests, we could, for instance, write about the history of art; or of language; or of feeding habits; or of typhus fever (see Zinsser’s Rats, Lice, and History). Certainly, none of these is the history of mankind (nor all of them taken together). What people have in mind when they speak of the history of mankind is, rather, the history of the Egyptian, Babylonian, Persian, Macedonian, and Roman empires, and so on, down to our own day. In other words: They speak about the history of mankind, but what they mean, and what they have learned about in school, is the history of political power. There is no history of mankind, there is only an indefinite number of histories of all kinds of aspects of human life. And one of these is the history of political power. This is elevated into the history of the world. But this, I hold, is an offence against every decent conception of mankind. It is hardly better than to treat the history of embezzlement or of robbery or of poisoning as the history of mankind. For the history of power politics is nothing but the history of international crime and mass murder (including, it is true, some of the attempts to suppress them). This history is taught in schools, and some of the greatest criminals are extolled as its heroes.

He who is false to himself is also the most likely to feel offended. After all, it is sometimes very gratifying to feel offended, is it not? A man may be perfectly well aware that no one has offended him, that he has imagined it all and put about a lie just for the sake of it, blown it out of all proportion so as to attract attention, deliberately picked on a word and made a mountain out of a molehill—he may very well realize all this, and yet be the very first to take offence, to the point of deriving enjoyment and pleasure from it, and so fall into a state of real animosity…

I invented adventures for myself and made up a life, so as at least to live in some way. How many times it has happened to me — well, for instance, to take offence simply on purpose, for nothing; and one knows oneself, of course, that one is offended at nothing; that one is putting it on, but yet one brings oneself at last to the point of being really offended. All my life I have had an impulse to play such pranks, so that in the end I could not control it in myself. Another time, twice, in fact, I tried hard to be in love. I suffered, too, gentlemen, I assure you. In the depth of my heart there was no faith in my suffering, only a faint stir of mockery, but yet I did suffer, and in the real, orthodox way; I was jealous, beside myself... and it was all from ENNUI, gentlemen, all from ENNUI; inertia overcame me. You know the direct, legitimate fruit of consciousness is inertia, that is, conscious sitting-with-the-hands-folded. I have referred to this already.

The custom is so ancient that no one takes offence. In Zanzibar the secondary wives had a system of sub-distinctions. The handsome and expensive Circassians, fully conscious of their superior merits and value, refused to sit at table with the brown Abyssinian women. Thus each race, in accordance with a tacit understanding, kept to itself when eating.

Best not to say what you think in order to give offence, obviously, not if you’re nice, as we are. Whatever you say, though, someone will feel offended. On that question, I rather side with the Stoics, The Stoics held that offence has to be taken, it can’t just be given, so we should try not to take it in the first place.

Oh lighten up, Darius. If you can’t laugh at yourself from time to time then you’re going to end up spending a lot of your life taking offence over things that really don’t matter.

Here’s a woman who, for close on two decades, has attended this faith community, disfigured and buckled over in pain. The spiritual leader, whose job is to see people in their community as God sees them, does not seem bothered by her dismal condition. It’s only when she stands upright that he takes offence. Jesus then sends further shockwaves through the gathering as he bestows on this woman a title that has never been given before: “[T]his woman [is] a daughter of Abraham.” Sarah Bessey comments on this moment: “People had only ever heard of ‘sons of Abraham’—never daughters. But at the sound of Jesus’ words ‘daughter of Abraham,’ he gave her a place to stand alongside the sons, especially the ones snarling with their sense of ownership and exclusivity over it all.

Christ Jesus has no quarrel with his spouse. She often wanders from  him, and grieves his Holy Spirit, but he does not allow her faults to  affect his love. He sometimes chides, but it is always in the tenderest  manner, with the kindest intentions: it is "my love" even then. There  is no remembrance of our follies, he does not cherish ill thoughts of  us, but he pardons and loves as well after the offence as before it. It  is well for us it is so, for if Jesus were as mindful of injuries as we  are, how could he commune with us? Many a time a believer will put  himself out of humour with the Lord for some slight turn in providence,  but our precious Husband knows our silly hearts too well to take any  offence at our ill manners.

How careful was our blessed Saviour of little ones, that they might not be offended! How he defends his disciples from malicious imputations of the Pharisees! How careful not to put new wine into old vessels (Matt. 9:17), not to alienate new beginners with the austerities of religion (as some do indiscreetly). Oh, says he, they shall have time to fast when I am gone, and strength to fast when the Holy Ghost is come upon them. It is not the best way, to assail young beginners with minor matters, but to show them a more excellent way and train them in fundamental points. Then other things will not gain credence with them. It is not amiss to conceal their defects, to excuse some failings, to commend their performances, to encourage their progress, to remove all difficulties out of their way, to help them in every way to bear the yoke of religion with greater ease, to bring them to love God and his service, lest they acquire a distaste for it before they know it. For the most part we see that Christ plants in young beginners a love which we call their `first love' (Rev. 2:4), to carry them through their profession with more delight, and does not expose them to crosses before they have gathered strength; as we bring on young plants and fence them from the weather until they be rooted. Mercy to others should move us to deny ourselves in our liberties oftentimes, in case of offending weak ones. It is the `little ones' that are offended (Matt. 18:6). The weakest are most ready to think themselves despised; therefore we should be most careful to give them satisfaction. It would be a good contest amongst Christians, one to labour to give no offence, and the other to labour to take none. The best men are severe to themselves, tender over others. Yet people should not tire and wear out the patience of others: nor should the weaker so far demand moderation from others as to rely upon their indulgence and so to rest in their own infirmities, with danger to their own souls and scandal to the church. Neither must they despise the gifts of God in others, which grace teaches to honor wheresoever they are found, but know their parts and place, and not undertake anything above their measure, which may make their persons and their case obnoxious to

One sure way of not giving offence is by not doing anything at all. Many young women develop a habit of ‘not doing much’. Deepika, 24, says, ‘I need a lot of push and encouragement to take the first step in anything. I don’t like initiating, I feel like pata nahin , don’t know, what will happen.

I should be a fool to take offence at any want of confidence

The first and most serious class contains four rules, known as the pārājika dharmas, and involves expulsion from the Saṅgha. These four rules prohibit sexual intercourse (the monk and nun were required to be completely celibate), theft, the taking of life, and boasting of supernormal attainments. Expulsion for these offences was irrevocable (although we should note that people could otherwise freely leave and re-enter the Order up to seven times.) Other offences involve lighter punishments, such as temporary expulsion from the Order, expiation, and/or confession.

Again, these weeks have been among the most peaceful I have known: they might have been among the happiest, if I had not been so aware that JA and JD might kill one another, in the civillest way in the world, at the next point of land: for it seems these things cannot take place at sea. JA is still deeply wounded about some remarks concerning the Cacafuego – feels there is a reflexion upon his courage – cannot bear it – it preys upon him. And JD, though quieter now, is wholly unpredictable: he is full of contained rage and unhappiness that will break out in some way; but I cannot tell what. It is not unlike sitting on a barrel of gunpowder in a busy forge, with sparks flying about (the sparks of my figure being the occasions of offence).

But it's also very crass, of course, so commercial' 'It's worse than that, Harriet. It's deadening, it feeds on life.' 'How do you mean?' Kathy asked. 'I mean that it feeds on all the real places around here, all the real towns and villages that have been steadily growing and developing for a thousand years, and are now having the life-blood sucked out of them by this great hulking parasite!' His eyes blazed at the word. 'And I also mean that it takes the life out of people, too. It is an offence against our natures, Kathy. It sanitises us, deodorises us, and turns us into shadows. Look at them!

Your prince charming is now a budding supervillain, so there’s nobody here to make sure the rest of us don’t push you.” “I take personal offence to that statement,” Kilian said calmly, eyeing some sort of satin bodysuit. “Niko isn’t her only prince charming.” Cian snorted. “Right. There’s nobody left except Kilian—who is happy to lie about his sexuality as long as Isobel doesn’t stop showering with him.

These four rules prohibit sexual intercourse (the monk and nun were required to be completely celibate), theft, the taking of life, and boasting of supernormal attainments. Expulsion for these offences was irrevocable (although we should note that people could otherwise freely leave and re-enter the Order up to seven times.) Other offences involve lighter punishments, such as temporary expulsion from the Order, expiation, and/or confession.

admit, and explained about Scott taking his wife and mother-in-law back to Yorkshire. “So you see I wasn’t expecting him to necessarily be here on the doorstep, but the house hasn’t been properly locked up at all. And I know I don’t know Mr Hawkesmoor well, but he came across as the kind of professional who wouldn’t be that careless. “And there’s another thing. I wasn’t quite sure whether to contact the police, because to be honest I have no evidence of what’s happened, but the way Mrs Hawkesmoor and Mrs Underhill left seems, well …just odd. Like they stepped out of the door and vanished. Maybe they were just sloppy people, but stuff like the milk has been left out on the side – as if they were either expecting to come back before they left, or were expecting somebody else to come and tidy up after them straight away.” “Show me, would you?” the man who she now knew was Sergeant Miles asked, and so Kat took him around to the cottage and unlocked the door. “I locked it up simply for security,” she explained, letting him go in alone. When he reappeared it was with a frown on his face. “I agree it doesn’t look like they were planning on going and never coming back. Have you looked upstairs?” Kat felt a touch foolish confessing. “I didn’t like to, beyond calling for Mr Hawkesmoor. Mrs Hawkesmoor is an odd sort of woman. Takes offence very easily and where none was intended, if you get my drift. Mr Hawkesmoor told me they lost their two sons in an accident last year, so I guess she’s every right to be a bit of a mess, but I was very glad I wasn’t going to be working for her, if that doesn’t sound callous. And her mother, Mrs Underhill! Lord, there was a woman who must make enemies wherever she goes! Very abrasive, very aggressive, and used to ruling the roost unless I’m much mistaken.” Sergeant Miles gave her an odd look but vanished upstairs, coming back down looking even more perplexed. “Well there’s no women’s clothing up there, but there are men’s clothes. Did you say that Mr Hawkesmoor had every intention of coming back here?” “Oh yes. This weekend if at all possible. But that’s why I’m concerned that his mobile seems to be off. I heard from him on Tuesday by text, but then didn’t think anything of him not being in touch until now, if only because I thought he’d probably got his hands full with his family. Not now, though. I would’ve expected something from him by now, even if not a long chatty conversation.” The odd looks Sergeant Miles kept giving her were now starting to seriously spook her. “Look, what’s going on? Why are you here? Has something awful happened?” He gave a grunt. “We were contacted by our colleagues up in Yorkshire. They’re looking for Mr Hawkesmoor.” “Scott Hawkesmoor? Why? Whatever for? He didn’t strike me as some master criminal.” “Well whether he’s responsible or not, we need to speak to him because both his wife and his mother-in-law are dead.” Kat felt herself sway and heard Sergeant Miles say, “Are you alright?” as he caught hold of her arm. Why did that feel as though she had known it was going to happen? Why had that feeling of someone having a violent death been all over her ever since she’d come back? The news felt almost physical in its

All I said was she is an old cow.” “A direct reference to me.” “You’re not that old.” “Old enough to be compared with an old cow!” “Is there nothing I can say that you won’t take offence to?” “Yes. “Good morning and good night! Anything in between these two sentences places you on thin ice!

A GLOSSARY OF IGBO WORDS AND PHRASES agadi-nwayi: old woman. agbala: woman; also used of a man who has taken no title. chi: personal god. efulefu: worthless man. egwugwu: a masquerader who impersonates one of the ancestral spirits of the village. ekwe: a musical instrument; a type of drum made from wood. eneke-nti-oba: a kind of bird. eze-agadi-nwayi: the teeth of an old woman. iba: fever. ilo: the village green, where assemblies for sports, discussions, etc., take place. inyanga: showing off, bragging. isa-ifi: a ceremony. If a wife had been separated from her husband for some time and were then to be re-united with him, this ceremony would be held to ascertain that she had not been unfaithful to him during the time of their separation. iyi-uwa: a special kind of stone which forms the link between an ogbanje and the spirit world. Only if the iyi-uwa were discovered and destroyed would the child not die. jigida: a string of waist beads. kotma: court messenger. The word is not of Igbo origin but is a corruption of “court messenger.” kwenu: a shout of approval and greeting. ndichie: elders. nna ayi: our father. nno: welcome. nso-ani: a religious offence of a kind abhorred by everyone, literally earth’s taboo. nza: a very small bird. obi: the large living quarters of the head of the family. obodo dike: the land of the brave. ocbu: murder or manslaughter. ogbanje: a changeling; a child who repeatedly dies and returns to its mother to be reborn. It is almost impossible to bring up an ogbanje child without it dying, unless its iyi-uwa is first found and destroyed.

I, for instance, have a great deal of AMOUR PROPRE. I am as suspicious and prone to take offence as a humpback or a dwarf. But upon my word I sometimes have had moments when if I had happened to be slapped in the face I should, perhaps, have been positively glad of it.

I remember that when I was discussing the matter with Wavell and trying to stop him from sending in his resignation, I told him that if I were to take offence when abused by Winston and given to understand that he had no confidence in me, I should have to resign at least once every day! But that I never felt that any such resignations were likely to have the least effect in reforming Winston’s wicked ways! I think this argument fortunately convinced him that it was a bad step to take.

When I first met Matt, we spoke about an eternal problem: the furtive awkwardness involved in photographing in the street. He told me that if he feels guilty taking pictures, people are more likely to take offence. When, however, he meets those people with love, he contends with far less objection, and somehow more images ‘arrive

For practical dealing with them it should be noted that the realm of Faerie seems to thrive on contradiction and ambiguity. They love twilight and between times. Stale bread is considered a defence against them and yet bread is often an offering to them. Faeries prefer reciprocation or remembrance of a good deed rather than ‘thanks.’ They may take offence to being thanked. They also do not like to be given money as a gift or payment for their benevolent behaviour. Iron is a kind of poison to them and most Faeries enjoy milk.

Well, I’m kinda popular.” I smile at her. She rolls her eyes at me, and I chuckle. “No offence, but you blend into the crowd. I get the feeling that's because you want to blend in. You don't want to be seen. It doesn't take a genius to work out that girls at your other school had a problem with you. I don't know the details—and I don't need to—but it doesn't need to be like that here. You don't need to blend in. You can be whoever the hell you want to be. No one knows you. Whoever was mean to you, they're not here now. I can help you. You can come to parties with me and meet people instead of hiding away all the time.

It would have been helpful (Psalm 39:2) if David had felt able to tell us the sort of thing he was fearful he might say in the presence of someone with no profession of faith. We can, of course, try to guess. We have all heard Christians speak in such a carelessly confident way about dying that their testimony sounded glib and brash, failing to take into account the solemnity of death, or that in the majority of cases it comes as an unwelcome intruder into a life we are loathe to leave. Again, have we not heard Christians speak of death – or pray for someone seriously ill – as if death was the very worst thing that could possibly happen (whereas the truth is that for a Christian, considered solely as an individual, setting aside relationships and responsibilities, to die is the very best thing that can happen)! David discovered that the ending of earthly life and the advent of death was, putting it mildly, a hurdle to be faced, and a task to be prepared for. First, be careful what we say – and maybe best say nothing. Dying without being afraid is one of the pearls of great price of being a Christian, so be careful, in the words of Jesus, not to cast this pearl before swine. A calm and unanxious demeanour could well speak louder than words. And, secondly, David certainly does tell us how we can go about cultivating this – in the threefold directive implied in 39:7–8. As ever that great old song ‘Turn your eyes upon Jesus’ strikes the essential note – or as David put it: ‘my hope is in you’. Are you in the prime of life? Are you in the later years when death waits round the corner? Are you, by divine sovereign appointment, in a terminal illness? Whatever: turn your eyes on Jesus and keep them fixed there. Beyond this, we must take up Paul’s motto – to have a conscience void of offence towards God and man always (Acts 24:16), for is that not what David is saying in Psalm 39:8? Yes, of course, all our sins were anticipated at Calvary and covered there, but what was done once and for all on the Cross becomes real all over again in our experience as we obey the divine command that all men everywhere should repent (Acts 17:30). The third strand in a ‘good death’ is the repute among others that we leave behind – a ‘savour of Christ among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing’ (2 Cor. 2:15, niv).

the best guns for African game are the English Lancaster and Reilly rifles; and for a fighting weapon, I maintain that the best yet invented is the American Winchester repeating rifle, or the "sixteen, shooter" as it is called, supplied with the London Eley's ammunition. If I suggest as a fighting weapon the American Winchester, I do not mean that the traveller need take it for the purpose of offence, but as the beat means of efficient defence, to save his own life against African banditti, when attacked, a thing likely to happen any time.

You’ve got to be kidding. A criminal is easy to spot.” Reuben spoke to Alex as he tied up his grieves, Alex tried to ignore his comment, but by the king was she tired of his boasting. “Enlighten me.” She rolled her eyes but he didn’t notice, he almost cut her off with how quickly he answered. “My uncle, he’s a Templar, he taught me: The tip of the tail for one, Alex. Those are the blasphemers. The petty thieves get a finger removed for each offence. The hand for smuggling and an ear for petty disrespect of the divine. Then, well, indefinite jail time or execution, so you’ll never have to run into any of those breeds on the street.” He straightened his belt rather confidently before taking a comb to his greasy mane. “And the ones who don’t get caught?” Alex replied. Reuben snapped back, “hah! We always catch them in the end.” Punctuating the conversation with his exit from the barracks.

Murderers aren’t your type – I’ll bear that in mind. Saying that, I have to tell you that you’re scared of blood, when you’re practically named after the colour of it. Bit hypocritical of you.” Jokily speaking, some weight seems to drop from my shoulders at his words. Not fully, but some – a start. Another new start. My whole life is new start after new start. Hopefully this one will actually be my last. I don’t know how much more leapfrogging I can take and I don’t want to find out. “Me hypocritical, what about you? Your name is what your kind look like on their deathbeds.” As soon as the words have left my mouth, I hate what I’ve said. Even if I’m not being serious, it’s insensitive of me. Thankfully, Ash doesn’t seem to take offence. Instead, he’s rather defiant. “Actually, I’m named after the colour of my eyes.

I don’t make shit, I make masterpieces,” she replied, pretending to take offence from Charlie’s words. “And just for that, I’ll take a BBQ sauce base with tuna, anchovies and pineapple please.

there’s a time and place for taking offence.

Darona’s face bore the pinched, taut look and shadowed eyes of someone constantly in pain, but the lack of lines suggested she was younger than Jesral had first thought; middle-aged, fifty at the very most. ‘You make an uncommonly fine looking noblewoman, for a Mhrydaineg commoner.’ ‘Thank you.’ Jesral was careful to keep all tone out of her voice. Darona gave her a shrewd stare, then a slight smile. ‘Self-control. Good. You must ignore me when I offend you unintentionally. They say that pain can make one waspish, but my brothers and son tell me there’s been no change in my manner. I was acid-tongued long before this set in,’ she held up a knotted hand, ‘and taking devil’s claw root has no effect on that. Rest assured, young woman, when I intend offence people are in no doubt about it.

Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August,’ said Fudge in a ringing voice, and Percy began taking notes at once, ‘into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

Legal obfuscation and amnesty schemes The UPA government is trying to use every trick of the trade to provide escape routes for black money looters. Take, for example, the complex strategy being adopted to change the colour of money from black to white, with a unique ‘Fair and Lovely’ amnesty recipe. The press reported in 2011 that the Central Board of Direct Taxes (CBDT) was “seriously considering” recommending to the government a scheme on the lines of the Voluntary Disclosure of Income Scheme (VDIS) announced in 1996 to bring back black money stashed in tax havens abroad for productive use in India. It is reported that the source of the money will not have to be disclosed, but criminal action will be taken if the money (or the assets) pertain to proceeds of crime. How the two halves of the sentence can be harmonised defies logic. In a democracy, every citizen is entitled to know the character and integrity of every other citizen, lest one day a crook manipulates a constituency of voters and colleagues in his party and occupies the office of prime minister. Concealing vast amounts of money and depriving a poverty-stricken nation of the revenue it badly needs is a criminal offence by itself. How would we find out whether or not one such criminal is already in office, instead of being in Tihar Jail?

Thank you for your compliments. I’m happy I had the opportunity to pass on my mentorship skills to someone like you, and in turn you are able to help others. Do you remember that one of “E.R.O.S.” dictums is for its members to pass the mentorship baton to the next generation of initiates? I’m gratified that I’ve done my part to honor this adage. That said I’m looking forward to hearing more about Bernard. How did he cope after you returned to London? Did his parents approve of your mentorship to their son? I’m looking forward to your next correspondence. Please send my regards to your significant other. Are the both of you married? Maybe, I will have a fortuitous blessing to court you again (joking). Please tell Walter not to take offence to this comment. I will never imperil both your relationships. I am happy when you are happy. Remember the passages I quoted you from The Art of Loving by Erich Fromm when we were young and so in love? Well, my sweet Eros, until I hear from you. Stay happy and love unceasingly. Your ex-Valet and lover, Andy.

She pays people for sending their children to school, and keeping their houses tidy; and there is so much given away, that it is enough to take away all independence and motive for exertion. The people speculate on it, and take it as a right; by-and-by there will be a reaction—she will find out she is imposed upon, take offence, and for the rest of her life will go about saying how ungrateful the poor are!” “It is a pity good people won’t have a little common-sense,” said Dr. May. “But there’s something so bewitching in that little girl, that I can’t give her up. I verily believe she will right herself.

In the wake of prevalent child rape and child abuse cases reported and unreported; Infliction of “Death Penalty” for child rape irrespective of the degree of offence or homicide , and rigorous penalty for child molestation, would serve as an excellent deterrent mechanism Debates on Human Rights to the perpetrator of the crime on the question of infliction of death penalty should be cordoned off taking into consideration the aftermath of sexual assault /rape of a child exposed to the Pandora’s pack of resilience

We can see the process of deification taking place in the Indians’ perception of Mahatma Gandhi. Here we had as great a man as any the world has seen, but also full of human frailties. Not one of his four sons got on with him; one even embraced Islam to spite him. He was vain, took offence at the slightest remark against him, and a fad-ist who made nubile girls lie naked next to him to make sure that he had overcome his libidinous desires. All these failings which make him human and down to earth and yet hold him up as a shining example of a human being for all of mankind are being lost thanks to our putting him on a pedestal and worshipping him. It is time we learnt to give avatars and prophets their proper places as important historical personalities who did good to humanity. No more than that.

 (2.) A severe penalty: The Lord will not hold him guiltless; magistrates, who punish other offences, may not think themselves concerned to take notice of this, because it does not immediately offer injury either to private property or the public peace; but God, who is jealous for his honour, will not thus connive at it.

When we latch on to an identity, it's easy to take offence. But we offend ourselves. We lock ourselves into very rigid ways of seeing and thinking and reacting.

Judge: Mr. Larch, you've heard the case for the prosecution. Is there anything you wish to say before I pass sentence? Mr. Larch: Well... I'd just like to say, m'lud, I've got a family ... a wife and six kids ... and I hope very much you don't have to take away my freedom ... because ... well, because m'lud, freedom is a state much prized within the realm of civilized society. It is a bond wherewith the savage man may charm the outward hatchments of his soul, and soothe the troubled breast into a magnitude of quiet. It is most precious as a blessed balm, the savior of princes, the harbinger of happiness, yea, the very stuff and pith of all we hold most dear. What frees the prisoner in his lonely cell, chained within the bondage of rude walls, far from the owl of Thebes? What fires and stirs the woodcock in his springe or wakes the drowsy apricot betide? What goddess doth the storm-tossd mariner offer most tempestuous prayers to? Freedom! Freedom! Freedom! Judge: It's only a bloody parking offence.

The cross of Christ is in itself an offence to the world; let us take heed that we add no offence of our own.

true evils to fouls, but the depraved habits of thefe are the fources to them of their depraved energies. But every energy, though it proceeds with depravity into the univerfe, is under the direftion of prefiding Gods, and of a more total or partial providence. For it becomes, fays PJotinu^, an unjufh adion to him who does it, fo far as pertains to the doing it, but jufl: to him who fuffers for it, fo far as he fuffers. And fo far as an adion of this kind is atheiftical, it originates from a partial caufe, which gives perfedion to an atlion full of paflion; but fo far as it is good, it obtains from prefiding powers its proper end. For it is neceffary that the authors of the greatell: crimes fhould fume time or other be called to punifliment; but this would never take place, unlefs their depravity received its completion. Many habits therefore, remaining unenergetic, render thofe by whom they are pofTefled incapable of obtaining their proper cure. Hence, on the Gods coiifulting concerning bringing the war to an end, and faving the Trojans, the Goddefs who prefides over juftice prevents any energy of this kind, that the Trojans may more fwiftly fuffer the punifhment of their crimes; and Minerva, who cooperates with this divinity, excites to the violation of the oath, that, energizing according to the whole of their depravity, they may receive the punifliment of the whole of it. For neither was it good for them to remain without a cure, nor that their latent depravity fhould be healed prior to their fecond offences.

Above all, you must not expect them to take more than a passing interest in your brain. Your best course is to avoid all reference to that topic. 'The brain' is seldom, if ever, mentioned in the best circles of the spiritual world—to which circles, I assume, your leading Ideas belong. You must never forget that in the realm of Ideas class distinctions are rigidly observed; there is an aristocracy and a proletariat, with all the intermediate grades; and many topics which may be safely mentioned among the commons are an offence when introduced to the nobility. 'The brain' is one of these. Its use, among the ghosts, is confined exclusively to the working class; and you will commit a breach of good manners by flaunting its functions in the presence of august society. Were you, for example, in the course of some conversation with a noble Principle, to offer him the use of your own brain, or to suggest that he was in need of such an implement, or in the habit of using it, you would commit an indiscretion of the first magnitude; and it is certain the offended spirit would strike you off his visiting list and decline to haunt you any more.

To keep the peace, he did not take offence but dug yet another well that the men of Gerar also filled with earth. It came to my attention that men were causing a disturbance so I had left Salem to see if there might be a peaceful solution. It had also come to the attention of Abimelech that a mighty prince was slowly taking over the northern territory of his kingdom. I had come just in time to see Abimelech standing with his arms crossed and with Apollos and Isaac standing face to stomach with each other.

A young man thought he was called to leave common and civil life, and to enter the ministry; neither his own pastor nor father knew anything of this. The persuasion of his sacred destiny originated solely with himself. Though fully satisfied in his own mind, yet from a kind of respect for a family friend, and to save appearances, he wished to converse with me upon the subject. By no means like-minded with himself, and fearful of giving offence, (a sad infirmity in such a case,) I begged him to consult an older authority, and one who I knew had a firmer, bolder manner. An interview soon taking place, the young man told him he had been for some time persuaded he was called to the ministry; and asked his aged adviser what he deemed the best sign or evidence of a Divine call to the work. "Sir," said the sage, "what I should deem the best sign or evidence would be a man's not thinking of it, but considering himself the last person in the world God would select for this purpose; and who, if God came for him, would be found like Saul, 'hid among the stuff,' and requiring an effort to draw him out." -William Jay

No matter what the political environment, blasphemy laws lend the power of the state to particular religious authorities and effectively reinforce extreme views, since the most conservative or hard-line elements in a religious community are generally the quickest to take offence and the first to claim the mantle of orthodoxy. Virtually any act has the potential to draw an accusation and prosecution

Let us not take offence over small cheese, let things slide off when they don’t really matter, not take things personally, be free to make better use of our energy, to get on with something meaningful instead.

When two words are identical, you must not take undue offence or think you have been wronged in terms of choice. Simplicity is a fine patience of meaning.

The problem, then as now, is the spell of potential in an affluent society. As Seneca put it: ‘The greatest hindrance to living is expectancy, which depends upon tomorrow and wastes today.’ So, as though written expressly for the twenty-first century, the Stoic works abound in reminders of the futility of attention-seeking, shopping, anger, taking offence and travel for its own sake (‘Nothing here is any different from what it would be up in the hills or down by the sea’)

If young people tell me I'm young at heart, I take offence -- I'm OLD at heart. Si la gente joven me dice que soy joven de corazón, me ofendo: soy VIEJA de corazón.

...Above all, don't lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to such a pass that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love, and in order to occupy and distract himself without love he gives way to passions and coarse pleasures, and sinks to bestiality in his vices, all from continual lying to other men and to himself. The man who lies to himself can be more easily offended than anyone. You know it is sometimes very pleasant to take offence, isn't it? A man may know that nobody has insulted him, but that he has invented the insult for himself, has lied and exaggerated to make it picturesque, has caught at a word and made a mountain out of a molehill -- he knows that himself, yet he will be the first to take offense, and will revel in his resentment till he feels great pleasure in it, and so pass to genuine vindictiveness. But get up, sit down, I beg you. All this, too, is deceitful posturing....

Zephyrinus, the bishop of Rome, that he had "admitted adulterers unto repentance, and thereby unto the communion of the church." But that church proceeding in her lenity, and every day enlarging her charity, Novatus and Novatianus, taking offence thereat, advanced an opinion in the contrary extreme: for they denied all hope of church pardon or of a return unto ecclesiastical communion unto them who had fallen into open sin after baptism; and, in especial, peremptorily excluded all persons whatsoever who had outwardly complied with idolatrous worship in time of persecution, without respect unto any distinguishing circumstances; yea, they seem to have excluded them from all expectation of forgiveness from God himself.

then that young upstart, Percy Jackson ____" "The guy who's missing" "Hmph. Yes. Him. He had the nerve to turn down our offer of immortality and tell us to pay better attention to our children. Er, no offence," "Oh, how could I take offence? Please, go on ignoring me

name, but he lives around the corner.’ Mary sighed. ‘He works in a law firm — or a finance brokerage — or something like that—’ she lifted her left hand and moved her wrist in circles ‘—on the next street over. Of course, when you walk past a shelter wearing a Rolex you’re going to be asked if you can spare some change.’ She shook her head. ‘But yes, I know who you mean, and I’ve heard him say those things.’ ‘He mean anything by them you think?’ She studied Roper for a second. ‘Are you asking if I think he could have murdered Ollie?’ Roper stayed quiet. He couldn’t lead her into anything. After a second, he said, ‘I’m not asking anything other than whether you think that he’s worth speaking to.’ Diplomatic he wasn’t. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never spoken to him — only heard his voice, had him described to me.’ Jamie cut in now. ‘Has he ever assaulted any of the people who come here? Any violence, or direct threat?’ ‘Direct threat?’ Roper sucked his teeth. ‘As in, I’m going to drown you versus you should be drowned.’ Mary’s mouth crumped into a wrinkled line. ‘I don’t know that I can really say whether… I… I don’t know is the simple answer. Lots of people take offence to the shelter being here. It wouldn’t be out of the question for someone to act rashly — but him? I don’t know.’ She was being careful not to say anything that would incriminate the possibly innocent man. She turned to Roper, trying to sound casual. There was no need to worry Mary. ‘We’ll get some uniformed officers to canvas the area — ask around to see whether the shelter has had an impact on anyone in particular.’ She smiled at Mary now. ‘But don’t worry, it’s just eliminating the most improbable suspects first, narrowing down the scope of the investigation, you know?’ ‘Am I a suspect?’ Mary asked, stopping

How many times, for instance, used I to take offence without rhyme or reason, deliberately; and of course I realised very well that I had taken offence at nothing, that the whole thing was just a piece of playacting, but in the end I would work myself up into such a state that I would be offended in good earnest.

For more than a decade governments, media organisations, society have taught us all to be a victim. The result is that moaning, playing the victim, complaining, blaming others for our own failures, and finding offence in everything you disagree with as now become a favourite pass-time for many people. Time to grow up and take ownership of your own life. This is the society we live in.

No, not about Diderot. Above all, don't lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to such a pass that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love, and in order to occupy and distract himself without love he gives way to passions and coarse pleasures, and sinks to bestiality in his vices, all from continual lying to other men and to himself. The man who lies to himself can be more easily offended than anyone. You know it is sometimes very pleasant to take offence, isn't it? A man may know that nobody has insulted him, but that he has invented the insult for himself, has lied and exaggerated to make it picturesque, has caught at a word and made a mountain out of a molehill- he knows that himself, yet he will be the first to take offence, and will revel in his resentment till he feels great pleasure in it, and so pass to genuine vindictiveness.

Yet taking offence is a matter of choice. Marcus Aurelius said it this way: ‘Choose not to be harmed – and you won’t feel harmed. Don’t feel harmed – and you haven’t been

To the natural man, the very notion of loving his enemies is an intolerable offence, and quite beyond his capacity: it cuts right across his ideas of good and evil. More important still, to man under the law, the idea of loving his enemies is clean contrary to the law of God, which requires men to sever all connection with their enemies and to pass judgement on them. Jesus, however, takes the law of God in his own hands and expounds its true meaning. The will of God, to which the law gives expression, is that men should defeat their enemies by loving them.

Another working-class characteristic, disconcerting at first, is their plain-spokenness towards anyone they regard as an equal. If you offer a working-man something he doesn’t want, he tells you that he doesn’t want it; a middle-class person would accept it to avoid giving offence. And again, take the working-class attitude towards “education.” How different it is from ours, and how immensely sounder!

Why are you even bothering?' He stops just passively drifting, hauls back on his arm. 'I'm a copy. I'm not me. There's no point in any of this. Get me back, the real me. What's the point in your just having me as a fake upload?' And perhaps it is not the most politic thing to say to a woman who is herself nothing more than a copy of a copy of a copy, rebuilt by spiders and filled with ants and who knows what other transformations, but she is too buys to take offence.

Sometimes the best of relationships are fragile and important. It all starts with a misunderstanding and the other person taking offence. At such times you need to do introspection. Weigh how important is 55 that relationship is for you. If it is a casual relationship and the person has done undue offence, perhaps it will be OK to part. But if it is a deeper relationship you value, then don’t let it go. Don’t hesitate to take the first step to make up. Believe me, it is worth it and your friends or person will appreciate. And it will be a happy ending. A woman is the nucleus of a family. She is born no

Alkistis Dimech: I think people are in a state of inflammation, almost permanently, as if they’re waiting to be outraged. The readiness to take offence at perceived slights, or any deviation from a narrow orthodoxy. It’s a hyper-reactive state, and that’s a product of modern life, the need to present online, not existing if you don’t, that’s part of what’s unhinging people’s nervous systems.

Sec. 200. Examination of complainant.—A Magistrate taking cognizance of an offence on complaint shall examine upon oath the

Oft it is that bearded men Are guilty deemed for taking sheep; But my offence is that I slew The young son of the Islands’ king. Men may say that danger waits me From the great king’s speedy vengeance; But his wrath shall never daunt me, In whose shield I’ve made a dint.

If you can’t laugh at yourself from time to time then you’re going to end up spending a lot of your life taking offence over things that really don’t matter.

Say not thou, I will recompense evil; but wait on the LORD, and he shall save thee.” Proverbs 20:22 BE not in haste. Let anger cool down. Say nothing and do nothing to avenge yourself. You will be sure to act unwisely if you take up the cudgels and fight your own battles; and, certainly, you will not show the spirit of the Lord Jesus. It is nobler to forgive, and let the offence pass. To let an injury rankle in your bosom, and to meditate revenge, is to keep old wounds open, and to make new ones. Better forget and forgive.

She paused, realising that she was trying to make an AI feel better. It was a silly concept, but something about Lovey’s demeanour made any other response feel a bit rude. Could AIs even take offence? Rosemary wasn’t sure.

Under the Empress Elizabeth, who abolished the death penalty for most offences in 1753, the crimes for which a man could be exiled to Siberia included fortune-telling, vagrancy, 'begging with false distress', prizefighting, wife-beating, illicit tree-felling, 'recklessly driving a cart without use of reins' and for a brief puritanical period in the 1750s, even taking snuff. Until the mid-eighteenth century, these exiles were always branded, usually on the face or right hand, to prevent them ever making their way back to the world. The convicts would spend up to two years shuffling in columns to their exile along the great Siberian trunk road known as the Trakt. The jingle of their chains and the ritual cries of “Fathers, have pity on us!” as the condemned men held out their caps for food was, for all travellers, who passed them in their high-wheeled carriages, the sound of Siberia. By tradition at Tobolsk, 1100 miles from Moscow, the prisoners’ leg irons were removed – a mercy, but also a sign that they had gone too far into the wilderness for escape to be survivable.

I am as suspicious and prone to take offence as a humpback or a dwarf.

Primer of Love [Lesson 58] Love is the fart Of every heart: It pains a man when 'tis kept close, And others doth offend, when 'tis let loose. ~ John Suckling, 'Love's Offence' Lesson 58) What guarantees the value of the relationship's estate? Ventilation, Ventilation, Ventilation. A good relationship is well regulated like a thermostatically controlled HVAC system. It cools you off when things get hot headed. It warms you up when there's a cold front building between you. Most importantly, it ventilates when the stink of decay permeates the air. That's you're signal to take a long walk in the fresh air.

It is not everyone you will take with you on a hill walk, but to have one like-minded, who will not interfere with your exercise of free will and choice in thought and action, is a joy indeed. It is better that two people should so understand each other that the choice of each day may be exercised without offence, and even without too much talking

In 2010, the state of Arizona passed a law that made illegal immigration a state offence, but the prospect of even one American state taking illegal immigration seriously was anathema to Hispanic groups. The National Council of La Raza said the Arizona law reflected “the rhetoric of hate groups, nativists, and vigilantes.” MALDEF (the Mexican American Legal Defense and Education Fund) said the law “launches Arizona into a spiral of pervasive fear.” The president of LULAC (League of United Latin American Citizens), Rosa Rosales, called it a “racist law,” and an official with the Congressional Hispanic Caucus said it would “open the door to discrimination and racial profiling.” One of Arizona’s congressmen, Democrat Raul Grijalva, called for a boycott of his own state. The law, of course, said nothing about race; it merely paralleled largely unenforced provisions of federal immigration law. The people of Arizona were tired of playing host to an estimated half million illegal immigrants no matter where they came from. Hispanic groups were furious because they feared fellow Hispanics might be deported. We can assume they would have had no objections to the law if most illegal immigrants were Irishmen or Poles. There was irony but nothing unusual when Hispanics, who were acting out of pure racial solidarity, accused Arizonans, who were trying to enforce federal law, of racism.

An oily fish,’ warned George. ‘Take heed you don’t grease up the lappets on that coat.’ ‘The pilchard is a surface fish,’ replied Aymer, picking knowledge from his memory as clumsily as he now was picking bones from between his teeth. He was delighted to see George. ‘Pelagic is the term. You know the word?’ ‘Don’t know the word. I know the fish well enough. There’s nothing else this time of year, exceptin’ pilchers.’ ‘Demersic is the other word, I think. The twin of pelagic. It speaks of fish that live upon the ocean floor. I see a parallel with people here. Those shoals of common men who live near the surface, and those solitary, more silent ones that inhabit deeper water. I count myself to be demersic, then. You, George, can I describe you as pelagic, a pilchard as it were? You would not take offence at that?’ ‘You’re talking to a pilchard, then?’ ‘Well, yes, I am, within my metaphor …’ ‘Mistaking a man for a fish is madness, I should say. It in’t what I’d call deep and solitary. What was that word you used?’ ‘Demersic, George.’ ‘Now, there’s a word! What do you say I’ll never have to use that word again?’ ‘Do not hold words in low regard. Words have power, George. Words are deeds …’ ‘Oh, yes?’ said George. ‘And the wind is a potato, I suppose. If words are deeds, then I’m the meanest man in Wherrytown. There in’t a sin I won’t have done.

It is only our inflated egos that lead us on to take offence over every trifle.

I have produced some part to the effect I proposed by my endeavours. I have laboured hard to earn, what the noble lords are generous enough to pay. Personal offence I have given them none. The part they take against me is from zeal to the cause. It is well! It is perfectly well! I have to do homage to their justice.

I was grateful for the kindness shown to me, but at times I was prevented from taking advantage of it by my shyness, and at others I found such pointless activity wearisome and preferred solitude to the insipid amusements I was invited to share in. I had no strong dislike of anybody, but few people aroused my interest, and lack of interest is what people take offence at, for they ascribe it to affectation or spite and do not want to believe that you are simply bored by them. At times I tried to stifle my boredom and took refuge in stony silence, but this silence was taken for haughtiness.

An oily fish,’ warned George. ‘Take heed you don’t grease up the lappets on that coat.’ ‘The pilchard is a surface fish,’ replied Aymer, picking knowledge from his memory as clumsily as he now was picking bones from between his teeth. He was delighted to see George. ‘Pelagic is the term. You know the word?’ ‘Don’t know the word. I know the fish well enough. There’s nothing else this time of year, exceptin’ pilchers.’ ‘Demersic is the other word, I think. The twin of pelagic. It speaks of fish that live upon the ocean floor. I see a parallel with people here. Those shoals of common men who live near the surface, and those solitary, more silent ones that inhabit deeper water. I count myself to be demersic, then. You, George, can I describe you as pelagic, a pilchard as it were? You would not take offence at that?’ ‘You’re talking to a pilchard, then?’ ‘Well, yes, I am, within my metaphor …’ ‘Mistaking a man for a fish is madness, I should say. It in’t what I’d call deep and solitary. What was that word you used?’ ‘Demersic, George.’ ‘Now, there’s a word! What do you say I’ll never have to use that word again?’ ‘Do not hold words in low regard. Words have power, George. Words are deeds …’ ‘Oh, yes?’ said George. ‘And the wind is a potato, I suppose. If words are deeds, then I’m the meanest man in Wherrytown. There in’t a sin I won’t have done.’ ‘No, what I meant to say is this, that words and deeds should be the same. You make a promise, you should keep it. You hold a view, then you should stand by it. You should say what you do: you should do what you say.’ ‘Well, there’s the difference,’ said George, evidently losing interest. ‘People in these parts in’t impressed by words. They don’t mean what they say. They only mean what they do. And that, I think, makes better sense.

Does he know the Minotaur of this cave from experience? . . . I doubt it, indeed, I know otherwise: – nothing is stranger to these people who are absolute in one thing, these so-called atheist ‘free spirits’, than freedom and release in that sense, in no respect are they more firmly bound; precisely in their faith in truth they are more rigid and more absolute than anyone else. Perhaps I am too familiar with all this: that venerable philosopher’s abstinence prescribed by such a faith like that commits one, that stoicism of the intellect which, in the last resort, denies itself the ‘no’ just as strictly as the ‘yes’, that will to stand still before the factual, the factum brutum, that fatalism of ‘petits faits’116 (ce petit faitalisme,117 as I call it) in which French scholarship now seeks a kind of moral superiority over the German, that renunciation of any interpretation (of forcing, adjusting, shortening, omitting, filling-out, inventing, falsifying and everything else essential to interpretation) – on the whole, this expresses the asceticism of virtue just as well as any denial of sensuality (it is basically just a modus of this denial). However, the compulsion towards it, that unconditional will to truth, is faith in the ascetic ideal itself, even if, as an unconscious imperative, make no mistake about it, – it is the faith in a metaphysical value, a value as such of truth as vouched for and confirmed by that ideal alone (it stands and falls by that ideal). Strictly speaking, there is no ‘presuppositionless’ knowledge, the thought of such a thing is unthinkable, paralogical: a philosophy, a ‘faith’ always has to be there first, for knowledge to win from it a direction, a meaning, a limit, a method, a right to exist. (Whoever under- stands it the other way round and, for example, tries to place philosophy ‘on a strictly scientific foundation’, must first stand on its head not just philosophy, but also truth itself: the worst offence against decency which can occur in relation to two such respectable ladies!) Yes, there is no doubt – and here I let my Gay Science have a word, see the fifth book (section 344) – ‘the truthful man, in that daring and final sense which faith in science presupposes, thus affirms another world from the one of life, nature and history; and inasmuch as he affirms this “other world”, must he not therefore deny its opposite, this world, our world, in doing so? . . . Our faith in science is still based on a metaphysical faith, – even we knowers of today, we godless anti-metaphysicians, still take our fire from the blaze set alight by a faith thousands of years old, that faith of the Christians, which was also Plato’s faith, that God is truth, that God is Logos, that truth is divine . . . But what if precisely this becomes more and more unbelievable, when nothing any longer turns out to be divine except for error, blindness and lies – and what if God himself turned out to be our oldest lie?’ – – At this point we need to stop and take time to reflect. Science itself now needs a justification (which is not at all to say that there is one for it). On this question, turn to the most ancient and most modern philosophies: all of them lack a consciousness of the extent to which the will to truth itself needs a justification, here is a gap in every philosophy – how does it come about? Because the ascetic Christian ideal has so far been master over all philosophy, because truth was set as being, as God, as the highest authority itself, because truth was not allowed to be a problem. Do you understand this ‘allowed to be’? – From the very moment that faith in the God of the ascetic ideal is denied, there is a new problem as well: that of the value of truth. – The will to truth needs a critique – let us define our own task with this –, the value of truth is tentatively to be called into question . . . (Anyone who finds this put too briefly is advised to read the Gay Science, s 344)

Climate change is a human rights infringement - also it is a criminal offence, because by not taking action to fix it, a citizen would be essentially committing homicide of countless citizens of the future.

It’s not that you are giving offence, but that you are speaking to those who are experts in taking it.

I suppose, Maurice thought, there is no personal immortality! All that remained of his father was this vivid image in his own mind, in Rhoda's, in his mother's; less vivid in the minds of others, but alive still in an incident, a word, a gesture that had left its print. Here on the end of the club fender his father had sat twelve months ago, intervening in a dispute that was growing heated, laughing at the two disputants, making them laugh unwillingly. Once he had looked across at Maurice, and smiled, sharing the absurdity. Maurice had loved him at that moment, because he was never pompous, did not take offence, never stood upon his own dignity, saw clear. And all that remained of that living, breathing figure on the end of the club fender was the memory growing fainter, like a ripple of sound spreading out in widening rings through the air.

We, the public, are easily, lethally offended. We have come to think of taking offence as a fundamental right. We value very little more highly than our rage, which gives us, in our opinion, the moral high ground. From this high ground we can shoot down at our enemies and inflict heavy fatalities. We take pride in our short fuses. Our anger elevates, transcends.

We, the public, are easily, lethally offended. We have come to think of taking offence as a fundamental right. We value very little more highly than our rage, which gives is, in our opinion, the moral high ground. From this high ground we can shoot down at our enemies and inflict heavy fatalities. We take pride in our short fuses. Our anger, transcends.

Well, it’s of great help in training dogs.’ He grinned and I saw that he had forgiven me. Was that because he thought of me as his dog? ‘Take no offence,’ he added.

My mother died,’ he attempted, quite unable to hit the note he meant to. ‘So I know what you’re going through. I was younger than you when she died. Much younger.’ ‘That would probably explain it,’ she said. She lost her smile and replaced it with a thoughtful scowl. ‘Why you can’t say I like the tomato.’ Howard frowned. What game was this? He took out his pocket of tobacco. ‘I – like – the – tomato,’ he said slowly and pulled the Rizlas from the bag. ‘May I?’ ‘I don’t care. Don’t you want to know what that means?’ ‘Not terribly. I’ve got other things on my mind.’ ‘It’s a Wellington thing – it’s a student thing,’ said Victoria rapidly, coming up on her elbows. ‘It’s our shorthand for when we say, like, Professor Simeon’s class is ‘‘The tomato’s nature versus the tomato’s nurture’’, and Jane Colman’s class is ‘‘To properly understand the tomato you must first uncover the tomato’s suppressed Herstory’’ – she’s such a silly bitch that woman – and Professor Gilman’s class is ‘‘The tomato is structured like an aubergine’’, and Professor Kellas’s class is basically ‘‘There is no way of proving the existence of the tomato without making reference to the tomato itself ’’, and Erskine Jegede’s class is ‘‘The post-colonial tomato as eaten by Naipaul’’. And so on. So you say, ‘What class have you got coming up?’ and the person says ‘Tomatoes ..... ’ Or whatever.’ Howard sighed. He licked one side of his Rizla. ‘Hilarious.’ ‘But your class – your class is a cult classic. I love your class. Your class is all about never ever saying I like the tomato. That’s why so few people take it – I mean, no offence, it’s a compliment. They can’t handle the rigour of never saying I like the tomato. Because that’s the worst thing you could ever do in your class, right? Because the tomato’s not there to be liked. That’s what I love about your class. It’s properly intellectual. The tomato is just totally revealed as this phoney construction that can’t lead you to some higher truth – nobody’s pretending the tomato will save your life. Or make you happy. Or teach you how to live or ennoble you or be a great example of the human spirit. Your tomatoes have got nothing to do with love or truth. They’re not fallacies. They’re just these pretty pointless tomatoes that people, for totally selfish reasons of their own, have attached cultural – I should say nutritional – weight to.’ She chuckled sadly. ‘It’s like what you’re always saying: let’s interrogate these terms. What’s so beautiful about this tomato? Who decided on its worth?

who could take offence in an empty room’.

Only leave them be, and you shall have nothing to fret about. Give them no reason to take offence.” “How does one avoid offending a tree?” He began ticking things off on his fingers. “Don’t insult them. Don’t remove their leaves. Don’t go tearing them open to see if there is a faerie king more agreeable to your tastes hiding inside.” I did not deign to reply to this. “That’s all?” He thought it over. “Mind your step in the autumn months.

Mortal, what hast thou of such grave concern That thou indulgest in too sickly plaints? Why this bemoaning and beweeping death? For if thy life aforetime and behind To thee was grateful, and not all thy good Was heaped as in sieve to flow away And perish unavailingly, why not, Even like a banqueter, depart the halls, Laden with life? why not with mind content Take now, thou fool, thy unafflicted rest? But if whatever thou enjoyed hath been Lavished and lost, and life is now offence, Why seekest more to add—which in its turn Will perish foully and fall out in vain? O why not rather make an end of life, Of labour? For all I may devise or find To pleasure thee is nothing: all things are The same forever.

He who takes offense, whether deserved or not, is a fool. The wise man ignores insults and doesn't let others define his worth. When faced with disrespect, pause to reflect - is their behavior a reflection of their own pain or insecurity? Compassion for others' suffering can help you let go of offense. People's perceptions and assumptions often say more about themselves than external reality. By understanding this, you can rise above insults and maintain your inner peace.

The crime rate on Alderney is so low that it doesn’t even have a police force of its own. There is a police station with one sergeant, two constables and two special constables – but all of them have been seconded from the neighbouring island of Guernsey and there isn’t very much for them to do. Recent offences included ‘taking a conveyance without authority’ and speeding. It’s unclear if they were connected. If you ignore the atrocities committed when the island was occupied during the Second World War, throughout the entire history of the place there hasn’t been a single murder. That was about to change.

Nice. So we have four baby lizards, clean shadows and the friendlier Nymphs considering their options, an army of rightly pissed off and motivated Fae, the two most powerful Fae in the kingdom plus seven of the second most powerful and you, Geraldine, who is arguably an army all on your own. We have a Shadow Beast, the Nox plant, the greatest Seer of our time, and a powerful glacia diamond. So why do I still have this awful feeling that we don’t have enough to win this war?” I asked. “It has to be enough,” Darcy said passionately. “And I’m sure it will be against Lionel and Lavinia and their armies…” “I’m just gonna say what no one else is saying,” Seth interrupted. “Clyde. And the utter failure and waste of time which is the Guild Stones, no offence Professor Shame,” he added to Orion. “You can’t just say ‘no offence’ and expect me not to take offence,” Orion growled. “And cut that fucking nickname too. I’m not even Power Shamed anymore. Or a professor.

(Plataeans:) They [Thebans] came, not only in time of peace, but at a holy season, and attempted to seize our city; we righteously and in accordance with universal law defended ourselves and punished the aggressor; and there is no reason why we should now suffer for their satisfaction. If you take your own present advantage and their present hatred to be the measure of justice, you will prove yourselves, not upright and impartial judges, but the slaves of expediency. The Thebans may appear serviceable now, but of far greater service to you were we and the other Hellenes when you were in far greater danger.For now you invade and menace others, but in those days the Barbarian was threatening to enslave us all, and they were on his side.May we not fairly set our former patriotism against our present offence, if indeed we have offended? You will find that the one more than outweighs the other; for our service to you was performed at a time when very few Hellenes opposed their courage to the power of Xerxes; they were then held in honour, not who, looking to their own advantage, made terms with the invader and were safe, but who, in the face of danger, dared the better part. (Book 3 Chapter 56.2-5)

(Mytilenaean envoys:) We forsooth were independent allies, free men— that was the word— who fought at their [Athenians’] side. But, judging from previous examples, how could we any longer have confidence in our leaders? For they had subjugated others to whom, equally with ourselves, their faith was pledged; and how could we who survived expect to be spared if ever they had the power to destroy us? Had all the allies retained their independence, we should have had better assurance that they would leave us as we were; but when the majority had been subjugated by them, they might naturally be expected to take offence at our footing of equality; they would contrast us who alone maintained this equality with the majority who had submitted to them; they would also observe that in proportion as their strength was increasing, our isolation was increasing too. Mutual fear is the only solid basis of alliance; for he who would break faith is deterred from aggression by the consciousness of inferiority. (Book 3 Chapter 10.5-11.2)

There’s nothing wrong with who I am. Even Dad tells me I’m special and never to take offence at how others view me. He’s probably the only person on earth who truly understands me, yet he lives thousands of miles away in a mental institution – he’s committed numerous crimes and is deemed too dangerous to live amongst the public. It’s pretty fucking promising for me that he remembers feeling the same way I do. The famous Tobias Mitchell, American psychopath. The insane killer who took over every news channel in the world. He’s labelled as ruthless and unpredictable. Dangerous. A threat to life.

(Iago:) O wretched fool. That livest to make thine honesty a vice! O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world, To be direct and honest is not safe. I thank you for this profit; and from hence I'll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence. Othello: Nay, stay: thou shouldst be honest. Iago: I should be wise, for honesty's a fool And loses that it works for.

Any conversation on the left these days, it's always so competitive, it's always each person trying to outperform the person before them in terms of their oppression or their lack of privilege or their personal trauma or, like, the fact that actually they’re Jewish or actually they’re bisexual, or guess what, they’re a quarter this or that ethnicity, which gives them the right to speak or the right to take offence or whatever. It’s a marketplace! Yet again! You can dress it up in the language of sensitivity and social justice and blah blah blah, but the point of intersectionality isn’t to learn how to transcend our differences, or eliminate them, the point isn’t solidarity, it’s about shoring up your brand, cornering the market, everyone out for themselves, maximising profit and minimising risk—' ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this,’ Amber said. ‘It locks us into our differences,’ Tony said, ‘it’s segregationist. And it’s also just advertising. It’s brand management. That’s my point. We’re still inside the fucking paradigm!

In chapter 2 we saw that the Bible allows us to protest and lament at the offence of suffering as something that seems inexplicably to contradict the goodness and purpose of God himself. But the Bible takes us further