W I Thomas Quotes

I was here, pet. I was always here. Even if you told me you needed me just for an hour, for this, I would have been there." Marcus spoke gruffly into his hair, holding him tighter. "Why is it so fucking hard for you to believe I love you?

What I have is surface. Grooming, good genetics, whatever. Whether you've rolled out of bed an hour ago without having had a shower for three days, or you're wearing a designer suit, there is a deep, perfect beauty to you that takes my breath away.

At least she (Thomas' mom) knows what she wants is dead. What I want just refuses to be with me. Maybe I should compare notes with her on what's worse, for I swear to God sometimes I think if you were dead this would hurt less.

Through color, I have sought to concentrate on beauty and happiness, rather than on man’s inhumanity to man.

I can imagine you and us a million ways here, Thomas. I will make my home where you are, because you are my home. I don't know any way to say it any more clearly. So now the ball's in your court.

I want you to marry me, Thomas." Marcus' attention had weight and heat on every exposed, raw part of him. "We can get a license in a state where it's legal, have a ceremony wherever you want, however you want. And I don't care if there's no law for it on the books, it will be the law between you and me and whatever God there is. I want it to be impossible for us to leave each other without a hell of a lot of paperwork, ugly custody battles over furniture, whatever. "I want to marry you," he repeated. "I want you to know that every morning when you wake up and see me that I want to be there, that I made an oath to be there. To stand by you. And that there's no one else for me. Not ever.

That's when I got it. The rough canvas. God paints our bodies over that, over our heart and soul. It's the eyes that tell us what we're really seeing, what's underneath. So all I painted in the picture were greens. Patterns, random slashes, shapes over shapes, shadows, emotions, it's all there.

o be entirely honest, I know of nothing quite so boring as Christianity without Christ.

See yourself the way I see you. Feel the way my hands touch you, think about the way I look at you. I see all of you, Thomas. You think I don't, but I do. Hide it, don't hide it, I know all of it, feel all of it. You're mine. Just let go. Let go and see it. I always have.

Oh, for Christ's sake. Nothing is going to make your boy straight, Elaine. I didn't drag him into anything. But you're absolutely right. This is a battle for his soul, and while you may think I'm Lucifer, you sure as hell aren't God. This isn't about you or me. It's about the gift that defines his soul more than you or I will ever hope to do. If he doesn't have that for himself, neither of us will have anything.

Pain. You overwhelm me," he said quietly. "And every time I see you or think of you, I can't grab a brush fast enough. I thought I couldn't paint you, but it turns out I've been painting you all along, from the beginning, before I even knew you.

True repentance says, “I cannot,” and true faith adds, “But God, You can!

If men define situations as real, they are real in their consequences.

Jakiś dystyngowany lęk, że swymi pytaniami sprowokował zbyt wielką poufałość i dowie się czegoś, co go nic nie obchodzi, krzyżowała się w nim z już rozbudzoną ciekawością i uwagą, z pragnieniem, by się z tych ust dowiedzieć czegoś więcej.

That to the adolescent is the authentic poetic note and whoever is the first in his life to strike it, whether Tennyson, Keats, Swinburne, Housman or another, awakens a passion of imitation and an affectation which no subsequent refinement or sophistication of his taste can entirely destroy. In my own case it was Hardy in the summer of 1923; for more than a year I read no one else and I do not think that I was ever without one volume or another or the beautifully produced Wessex edition in my hands: I smuggled them into class, carried them about on Sunday walks, and took them up to the dormitory to read in the early morning, though they were far too unwieldy to be read in bed with comfort. In the autumn of 1924 there was a palace revolution after which he had to share his kingdom with Edward Thomas, until finally they were both defeated by Elliot at the battle of Oxford in 1926.

The sub has the upper hand in a true Master and sub relationship, Thomas. Always. I can possess you only as long as you want to belong to me.

to paraphrase Thomas à Kempis, "I had rather exercise faith than know the definition thereof.

You and I, however, were so created that by anything and everything we do, we are saying to our Creator either “God, I love you,” or “God, I could not care less.” The human spirit is that part of us where God lives within us in the person of the Holy Spirit, so that with our moral consent (and never without it), God gains access to our human soul. This is where He Himself, as the Creator within the creature, can teach our minds, control our emotions, and direct our wills, so that He, as God from within, governs our behavior as we let God be God.

i remember el salvador, /n it’s horse shit, like i tell you. i stopped chasing the messiahs /n madonnas - wised up, set myself straight. i’ve laid em /n balled em in every half-way house south of biloxi, every 10 cent bed west of tulsa, fucked /n slobbered myself stupid on swingsets, greyhounds /n gas station floors the world over. i’ve split em in half from head to ass in elevator shafts, plus-size fitting rooms, in the lobbies of sheraton inns /n kfc parking lots - fucked em everywhere every way that i could. someone else can fuck em now. i’m done w/ el salvador. i know her militias her perfume, munitions, her missing hubcaps /n posters of paris. i know her goyas, her barricades, her paintboxes /n bookshelves of baudelaire, her banners, her bullshit /n paris can keep her.

I may wish to return to my home in England, and I stand in New York, but ever since I was born I have been bound to this earth by a law that I have never been able to break--the law of gravity. I am told, however, that there is another law, a higher law, the law of aero-dynamics, and if only I will be willing to commit myself in total trust to this new law, then this new law will set me free from the old law. By faith I step into the plane, I sit back in the rest of faith, and as those mighty engines roar into life, I discover that the new law of aero-dynamics sets me free from the law of gravity.

Every child born into this living world is a wonder of absolute singularity, an exquisitely unique organism with a complexity that we can only glimpse and estimate. We must therefore greet every new birth with the humility and awe that is borne of our overpowering limits and terrible constraints. I have never examined a newborn infant without muted reverence for its glistening newness and unfettered promise.

As I sat there in Southwold overlooking the German Ocean, I sensed a quite clearly the earth's slow turning into the dark. The huntsmen are up in America, wrote Thomas Browne in the Garden of Cyrus and they are already past their first sleep in Persia. The shadow of the night is drawn like a black veil across the earth, and since almost all creatures, from one meridian to the next, lie down after the sun has set, so, he continues, one might, in following the setting sun, see on our globe nothing but prone bodies, row upon row, as if leveled by the scythe of Saturn – an endless graveyard for a humanity struck by falling sickness

There are various kinds of depression, to be sure, and some are the result of the complex physical and physiological disorders. But there are times when we are spiritually depressed for no good reason. There are times when the best thing to do with our feelings is to challenge them: "Why are you cast down, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God (Psalm 42:11).

And then there was the sad sign that a young woman working at a Tim Hortons in Lethbridge, Alberta, taped to the drive-through window in 2007. It read, “No Drunk Natives.” Accusations of racism erupted, Tim Hortons assured everyone that their coffee shops were not centres for bigotry, but what was most interesting was the public response. For as many people who called in to radio shows or wrote letters to the Lethbridge Herald to voice their outrage over the sign, there were almost as many who expressed their support for the sentiment. The young woman who posted the sign said it had just been a joke. Now, I’ll be the first to say that drunks are a problem. But I lived in Lethbridge for ten years, and I can tell you with as much neutrality as I can muster that there were many more White drunks stumbling out of the bars on Friday and Saturday nights than there were Native drunks. It’s just that in North America, White drunks tend to be invisible, whereas people of colour who drink to excess are not. Actually, White drunks are not just invisible, they can also be amusing. Remember how much fun it was to watch Dean Martin, Red Skelton, W. C. Fields, John Wayne, John Barrymore, Ernie Kovacs, James Stewart, and Marilyn Monroe play drunks on the screen and sometimes in real life? Or Jodie Marsh, Paris Hilton, Cheryl Tweedy, Britney Spears, and the late Anna Nicole Smith, just to mention a few from my daughter’s generation. And let’s not forget some of our politicians and persons of power who control the fates of nations: Winston Churchill, John A. Macdonald, Boris Yeltsin, George Bush, Daniel Patrick Moynihan. Hard drinkers, every one. The somewhat uncomfortable point I’m making is that we don’t seem to mind our White drunks. They’re no big deal so long as they’re not driving. But if they are driving drunk, as have Canada’s coffee king Tim Horton, the ex-premier of Alberta Ralph Klein, actors Kiefer Sutherland and Mel Gibson, Super Bowl star Lawyer Milloy, or the Toronto Maple Leafs’ Mark Bell, we just hope that they don’t hurt themselves. Or others. More to the point, they get to make their mistakes as individuals and not as representatives of an entire race.

New Rule: You don't have to teach both sides of a debate if one side is a load of crap. President Bush recently suggested that public schools should teach "intelligent design" alongside the theory of evolution, because after all, evolution is "just a theory." Then the president renewed his vow to "drive the terrorists straight over the edge of the earth." Here's what I don't get: President Bush is a brilliant scientist. He's the man who proved you could mix two parts booze with one part cocaine and still fly a jet fighter. And yet he just can't seem to accept that we descended from apes. It seems pathetic to be so insecure about your biological superiority to a group of feces-flinging, rouge-buttocked monkeys that you have to make up fairy tales like "We came from Adam and Eve," and then cover stories for Adam and Eve, like intelligent design! Yeah, leaving the earth in the hands of two naked teenagers, that's a real intelligent design. I'm sorry, folks, but it may very well be that life is just a series of random events, and that there is no master plan--but enough about Iraq. There aren't necessarily two sides to every issue. If there were, the Republicans would have an opposition party. And an opposition party would point out that even though there's a debate in schools and government about this, there is no debate among scientists. Evolution is supported by the entire scientific community. Intelligent design is supported by the guys on line to see The Dukes of Hazzard. And the reason there is no real debate is that intelligent design isn't real science. It's the equivalent of saying that the Thermos keeps hot things hot and cold things cold because it's a god. It's so willfully ignorant you might as well worship the U.S. mail. "It came again! Praise Jesus!" Stupidity isn't a form of knowing things. Thunder is high-pressure air meeting low-pressure air--it's not God bowling. "Babies come from storks" is not a competing school of throught in medical school. We shouldn't teach both. The media shouldn't equate both. If Thomas Jefferson knew we were blurring the line this much between Church and State, he would turn over in his slave. As for me, I believe in evolution and intelligent design. I think God designed us in his image, but I also think God is a monkey.

Dobrze wiemy, że odzwyczajenie się i przyzwyczajenie do czegos nowego jest jedynym środkiem, który utrzymuje nasze życie, odświeża nasz zmysł czasu -- jedynym, dzięki któremu możemy odmłodzić, wzmocnić, zwolnić nasze przeżywanie czasu i tym samym odnowić nasze poczucie życia w ogóle.

We live, all of us, in sprung rhythm. Even in cities, folk stir without knowing it to the surge in the blood that is the surge and urgency of season. In being born, we have taken seisin of the natural world, and as ever, it is the land which owns us, not we, the land. Even in the countryside, we dwell suspended between the rhythms of earth and season, weather and sky, and those imposed by metropolitan clocks, at home and abroad. When does the year begin? No; ask rather, When does it not? For us – all of us – as much as for Mr Eliot, midwinter spring is its own season; for all of us, if we but see it, our world is as full of time-coulisses as was Thomas Mann’s. Countrymen know this, with the instinct they share with their beasts. Writers want to know it also, and to articulate what the countryman knows and cannot, perhaps, express to those who sense but do not know, immured in sad conurbations, rootless amidst Betjeman’s frightful vision of soot and stone, worker’s flats and communal canteens, where it is the boast of pride that a man doesn’t let the grass grow under his feet. As both countryman and writer, I have a curious relationship to time.

It could not be more significant therefore that Paul-on the heels of the exasperation of Romans 7:14-25-utters the clearest word of assurance: "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus" (Rom. 8:1). The issue is not, "Have I done enough good to outweigh my lack of performance?" On that account, I could never reach a state of assurance. Rather, the focus of our thinking must be, "Am I `in Christ?

Pay no attention to them, ladies, I beg of you," said Gant scathingly. "They are the lowest of the low, the whiskey-besotted dregs of humanity, who deserve to bear not even the name of men, so far have they retrograded backwards." With a flourishing sweep of his slouch hat he departed into the warehouse. "By God!" said Ambrose Nethersole approvingly. "It takes W. O. to tie a knot in the tail of the English language. It always did.

And Sir Thomas Browne… remarks in a passage of the Pseudodoxia Epidemica that I can no longer find that in the Holland of his time it was customary, in a home where there had been a death, to drape black mourning ribbons over all the mirrors and all canvasses depicting landscapes or people or the fruits of the field, so that the soul, as it left the body, would not be distracted on its final journey, either by a reflection of itself or by a last glimpse of the land now being lost for ever.

Przez całe życie z daleka się trzymałem od podziwiania, nie należę do tych, co podziwiają, obcy jest mi podziw, nie ma co się dziwić, podziw zawsze był mi obcy i nic nie odpycha mnie tak, jak obserwacja tych, którzy podziwiają, ogarnięci chorobą podziwiania. Idzie pan do kościoła, ludzie podziwiają, idzie pan do muzeum, ludzie podziwiają. Idzie pan na koncert, ludzie podziwiają, to odrażające. Prawdziwy umysł nie zna w ogóle podziwu, przyjmuje do wiadomości, potrafi uszanować, patrzy z uwagą, to wszystko […]

Nie pojmuję, jak można nie palić, kto nie pali, dobrowolnie pozbawia się, że tak powiem, najlepszej cząstki życia, w każdym razie wielkiej przyjemności. Budząc się już się cieszę, że w ciągu dnia będę mógł palić, a przy jedzeniu znów się na to cieszę, a nawet mogę powiedzieć, oczywiście z pewną przesadą – że jem tylko po to, aby później zapalić. Ale dzień bez tytoniu byłby dla mnie szczytem szarzyzny, byłby dniem zupełnie pustym i bez żadnego powabu, a gdybym musiał sobie rano powiedzieć:dzisiaj nie ma nic do palenia-sądzę, że nie znalazłbym wcale odwagi, żeby wstać, słowo daję, że zostałbym w łóżku.

Skoro nie mam nadziei, bym jeszcze powrócił Skoro nie mam nadziei Skoro nie mam nadziei, bym wrócił Do pożądania zalet innych ludzi Nie usiłuję walczyć o te sprawy (Po cóż ma stary orzeł rozpościerać skrzydła?) Po cóż bym opłakiwał Miniona chwałę zwykłego królestwa? Skoro nie mam nadziei, abym jeszcze zaznał Niepewnej chwały określonej chwili Skoro nie sądzę Skoro wiem, że nie zaznam Prawdziwej mocy, która przemija Skoro nie mogę pić Skąd piją kwiaty drzew i źródła rzek, bo nic tam już nie ma Skoro wiem, że czas jest zawsze czasem, A miejsce zawsze i jedynie miejscem, A co się dzieje, to się dzieje tylko jeden raz I tylko w jednym miejscu, Cieszę się, że jest tak jak jest Wyrzekam się uwielbianej twarzy I wyrzekam się głosu Skoro nie mogę mieć nadziei, bym jeszcze powrócił Raduję się, że mam coś stworzyć Co sprawiałoby radość I modlę się do Boga o litość nad nami I modlę się, bym mógł zapomnieć O sprawach, które ważę w sobie zbyt przytomnie, Zbytnio roztrząsam Skoro nie mam nadziei, bym jeszcze powrócił Niech mówią za mnie te słowa Bo co się stało, już się nie stanie Niech sąd nad nami nie będzie zbyt srogi Skoro już skrzydła nie niosą mnie w przestrzeń, Tylko z wysiłkiem biją powietrze Teraz już próżne, doszczętnie jałowe, Próżniejsze i bardziej jałowe niż wola, Ucz nas jak troszczyć się i jak nie troszczyć Ucz nas cichości. Módl się z nami grzesznymi teraz i w godzinę śmierci naszej Módl się za nami teraz i w godzinę śmierci naszej.

Ludzkość, jak się zdaje, wysila się tylko dopóty, póki oczekuje swoich idiotycznych świadectw, którymi potem może się szczycić publicznie, a gdy już ma wystarczająco dużo takich świadectw w ręce, zaniedbuje się. Przytłaczająca większość ludzi żyje tylko po to, by zdobywać świadectwa i tytuły, z żadnego innego powodu, a zdobywszy wystarczającą ich zdaniem liczbę świadectw i tytułów, spoczywa na laurach. Ludzkość, jak się zdaje, nie ma innego celu w życiu. Jak się zdaje, nie przejawia w ogóle zainteresowania własnym, niezależnym życiem, własnym, niezależnym istnieniem, interesują ją tylko owe świadectwa i tytuły, pod których ciężarem, jak się zdaje, dusi się już od wieków. Ludzie nie dążą do niezależności i w ogóle do samodzielności, nie dążą do własnego naturalnego rozwoju, tylko do zdobycia świadectw i tytułów, i gdyby wręczać je im i dawać bez jakichkolwiek warunków, w każdej chwili oddaliby życie za te świadectwa i tytuły, taka jest naga i przygnębiająca prawda. Tak mało cenią życie samo w sobie, że istnieją dla nich tylko świadectwa oraz tytuły. Wieszają te świadectwa i tytuły na ścianach swoich mieszkań, wiszą one w mieszkaniach rzeźników i filozofów, pomocy kuchennych, adwokatów i sędziów, którzy przez całe życie wpatrują się w te świadectwa i tytuły wzrokiem pełnym pożądliwości, jakiej ich oczy nabrały od nieustannego wpatrywania się w owe świadectwa i tytuły. W istocie nie mówią o sobie, jestem takim a takim człowiekiem, lecz jestem takim a takim tytułem, jestem takim a takim świadectwem. I nie utrzymują kontaktów z takim a takim człowiekiem, lecz tylko z takim a takim świadectwem i z takim a takim tytułem. Możemy więc spokojnie stwierdzić, że w rodzie ludzkim obcują ze sobą nie ludzie, ale wyłącznie świadectwa i tytuły.

Człowiek jest panem przeciwieństw, dzięki niemu istnieją, a więc jest od nich dostojniejszy. Dostojniejszy od śmierci, zbyt dostojny dla niej, bo głowa jego jest wolna. Dostojniejszy od życia, zbyt dostojny dla niego, bo serce jego jest pobożne.[...] Nie dam śmierci panować nad mymi myślami! Bo na tym polega dobroć i miłość ludzka, na niczym innym. Śmierć jest wielką potęgą. Odkrywamy przed nią głowę i zbliżamy się do niej na palcach.[...] Rozum niemądrze wygląda wobec śmierci, bo jest jedynie cnotą, śmierć natomiast jest wolnością, ucieczką, bezkształtem i rozkoszą.[...] rozkoszą, a nie miłością. Śmierć i miłość: nie rymują się ze sobą, byłby to niesmaczny i fałszywy rym! Miłość przeciwstawia się śmierci, ona jedna, nie rozum; i jest mocniejsza od śmierci. Ona jedna, nie rozum, budzi dobre myśli.[...]Człowiek w imię dobroci i miłości nie powinien dać śmierci panować nad swoimi myślami. I z tym się budzę...

It is critical to your family’s well being and to your kids’ self-esteem that you like (not just love) your youngsters. What does “like” mean? Here’s an example. It’s a Saturday and you’re home by yourself for a few hours—a rare occurrence! Everyone has gone out. You’re listening to some music and just puttering around. You hear a noise outside and look out to see a car pulling up in the driveway. One of your kids gets out and heads for the front door. How do you feel in your gut right at that moment? If it’s “Oh no, the fun’s over!” that may not be like. If it’s “Oh good, I’ve got some company!” that’s more like like. Liking your children and having a good relationship with them is important for lots of reasons. The most important reason, though, may be that it’s simply more fun. Kids are naturally cute and enjoyable a lot of the time, and you want to take advantage of that valuable quality. And they only grow up with you once.

The flag story is important, Berntson thought. Before the assault was over, Christmas had sent Frank Thomas, his gunnery sergeant, to find an American flag. He knew it was against the rules. This was a war on behalf of the Republic of Vietnam, and the correct flag to run up the pole at its province headquarters would have been Saigon’s yellow and red ensign. But Christmas’s men had bled and died all the way across southern Hue, not ARVN troops. They had looked up at that enemy flag the whole way. They had taken it down, and they wanted to show who had done it. The Stars and Stripes had earned its place. Berntson continued jotting down Christmas’s words: “‘Proudest moment of my life—to be given opp to do it’ . . . ‘main thought was getting the flag up—so it would fly and everyone could see that flag flying’ . . . Capt. Ron Christmas, 27, 2001 S.W. 36th Ave, Fort Lauderdale, FLA CO for 2/5 Hotel . . . ‘street fighting is dirtiest close in. Biggest problem is control—keeping all platoons in line—communication also problem . . . platoons have done extremely well . . . flag. ‘inspiration thing I have ever seen in my lifetime—because it was a hard thing. That feeling of patriotism . . . all you could hear are cheers . . . really brings out America Spirit.’” Hours later, Christmas was paid a visit by two officers, both majors, one army and the other marine. They had been sent by Colonel Hughes from the compound. They said the American flag would have to come down. The South Vietnamese flag was the appropriate one. The men around Christmas were still loading up the wounded and dead. “I don’t think my men are going to like that,” he said. “That doesn’t make any difference,” said one. “You are violating protocol.” “Well, I’ll tell you what,” said Christmas. “If you want to take the flag down, you guys go take it down. But I cannot be responsible for all of my men.” Kaczmarek, who was sitting close enough to overhear the exchange, chose that moment to reposition his rifle. The majors left. The flag remained. Christmas had a gunny sergeant haul it down at sunset, and the next morning a bright yellow South Vietnamese flag flew in its place. But watching Old Glory run up that afternoon was a sight none of the marines who witnessed it would ever regret, or forget.

ICH Ich habe das Hosenkaufen immer gehaßt PEYMANN Ich auch ICH Ich habe beim Hosenprobieren immer Erstickungsanfälle bekommen Es ist ja nicht nur e i n e Hose die wir probieren es sind immer mehrere oft habe ich sieben oder acht Hosen probiert und jedesmal habe ich geglaubt mich trifft in der Probierzelle der Schlag PEYMANN Aber er hat Sie nicht getroffen Sie sind zäh Bernhard Ich kenne kaum einen zäheren Schon vor zehn oder vor fünfzehn Jahren haben Sie gesagt daß Sie der Schlag trifft ICH Die Hosenprobierzellen sind zu eng in ihnen ist keine Luft In den Hosenprobierzellen hat schon so viele der Schlag getroffen fragen Sie doch der Kleiderinnung die wird es Ihnen bestätigen die Leute gehen in ein Geschäft hinein und wollen nur eine Hose probieren und probieren naturgemäß sieben oder acht und es trifft sie der Schlag der Kleiderhausprobierzellenschlag ist der häufigste PEYMANN Es ist wie wenn ich drei Tage und Nächte W i n t e r m ä r c h e n probiert hätte ICH Fragen Sie die Ärzte auf den Herzstationen Der während des Hosenprobieren eingetretene Herztod ist keine Seltenheit Wenn wir von den Grabsteinen jeweils die Todesursache ablesen könnten wir würden alle Augenblicke auf den Grabsteinen gleich welchen Friedhofs lesen Todesursache Hosenprobe Wenn Sie ehrlich sind müssen Sie zugeben daß eine solche Hosenprobe mehr erschöpft als eine Theaterprobe ...

228. Objection of atheists: “But we have no light.” 229. This is what I see and what troubles me. I look on all sides, and I see only darkness everywhere. Nature presents to me nothing which is not matter of doubt and concern. If I saw nothing there which revealed a Divinity, I would come to a negative conclusion; if I saw everywhere the signs of a Creator, I would remain peacefully in faith. But, seeing too much to deny and too little to be sure, I am in a state to be pitied; wherefore I have a hundred times wished that if a God maintains nature, she should testify to Him unequivocally, and that, if the signs she gives are deceptive, she should suppress them altogether; that she should say everything or nothing, that I might see which cause I ought to follow. Whereas in my present state, ignorant of what I am or of what I ought to do, I know neither my condition nor my duty. My heart inclines wholly to know, where is the true good, in order to follow it; nothing would be too dear to me for eternity. I envy those whom I see living in the faith with such carelessness, and who make such a bad use of a gift of which it seems to me I would make such a different use. 230. It is incomprehensible that God should exist, and it is incomprehensible that He should not exist, that the soul should be joined to the body, and that we should have no soul; that the world should be created, and that it should not be created, &c.; that original sin should be, and that it should not be.

I've been told of such a cult, one that is fixated on the World As Lair. What, do you think, were these six or seven people trying to commune with?" W H Pugmire, 'The Secret Painting of Thomas Cartwright'.

Living inside the System is like riding across the country in a bus driven by a maniac bent on suicide... though he's amiable enough, keeps cracking jokes back through the loudspeaker, "Good morning folks, this is Heidelberg here we're coming into now, you know the old refrain, 'I lost my heart in Heidelberg,' well I have a friend who lost both his ears here! Don't get me wrong, it's really a nice town, the people are warm and wonderful—when they're not dueling. Seriously though, they treat you just fine, they don't just give you the key to the city, they give you the bung-starter!" u.s.w.

Pity the poor, wretched, timid soul, too faint hearted to resist his oppressors. He sings the songs of the damned, ‘I cannot resist, I have too much to lose, they might take my property or confiscate my earnings, what would my family do, how would they survive?’ He hides behind pretended family responsibility, failing to see that the most glorious legacy that we can bequeath to our posterity is liberty!” ~ W. Vaughn Ellsworth American Author IRS Protestor

Though many believers excel at Bible study, some are not as skilled at putting the truth into actual practice. Reflexive meditation seeks to solve this unfortunate dilemma by asking, “What have I personally done with this truth that I have learned?” As Thomas Manton aptly expressed, “The fruit of study is to hoard up truth, but the fruit of meditation is to practice it.

Patrick Henry said that slavery was “repugnant to the first impression of right and wrong” and George Washington hoped slavery might be abolished. Thomas Jefferson made the celebrated statement: “Indeed I tremble for my

I’ve got a dream that’s worth more than my sleep.” – Eric Thomas

As I reached the door, the constable said, “Good luck in Canada, son.”  For a second I expected his voice to morph into Uncle Sid’s as he urged me to give his love to Rose Marie and the Mounties.

One thing, though, was for sure – here I was, alive, healthy but as unquiet in my way as they were in theirs.  Transcendent equality.  You’ve got to love it.

Often I felt like two people.  One went into the world and did the living for the other, who was stuck in an endless moment of knowing.  Yesterday was today and hereon in.

The telegram was sealed – an old-fashioned touch, I thought, but then I’d never had a telegram before.  I took my time opening it.  I said nothing.

Now I gazed out of my office window.  Slowly the world was changing from old-gold to the deep purple which, in the words of that dreamy song Mum was fond of humming, bathes garden walls under the twinkle of starlight.

Authors and poets who address the human condition, mortality, eternity, and continuity with nature that I recommend are Mary Oliver, Pema Chödrön, Paramahansa Yogananda, Michael Pollan, Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Seneca, Marcus Aurelius, Robin Wall Kimmerer, Rumi, Lao-tzu, Khalil Gibran, Hafiz, Walt Whitman, W. S. Merwin, Thích Nhất Hạnh, Diane Ackerman, Alan Watts, Lewis Thomas, Ram Das, Rainer Maria Rilke, Deepak Chopra, and Wang Wei.

Thomas eyed the array of hair products on the corner of the tub and snorted. "God, I forget sometimes how gay you are.

Get out." Marcus' eyes went freezing cold, his face as hard mask, the cleaned but unstitched slash making him look far more dangerous. "I don't want to deal with this carp right now." "I've never gotten in, so how the hell can I get out?

It was a tough night," Marcus said briefly, another humorless smile crossing his mouth. "But they got what they paid for." "Jesus," Thomas murmured. Marcus slanted a glance at him, and his green eyes were hard, brittle. "Don't think about it, pet. I don't. No one who lives it dwells on this fucking stuff. You just thank God or your own balls for getting yourself through it, pulling yourself up into something better. The day I see pity in your face, I want your fucking ass out of my life.

Can I get back to fucking your brains out now?" Thomas grinned. "You forget how to be a Master? Why are you asking?

What naturally comes to mind when I am not thinking about anything in particular?

The answer to the question, in part, is-in heaven. But Pan] is seeking in Romans 8 to address another concern: Does the presence of sin in my life mean that I am not a Christian? Can I be in a right relationship with God (justified and adopted) and still sin as I do?

The point behind 1-2-3 Magic is that parents are ready for anything, rather than worrying what the kids are going to do next. The message is: “I love you, and it’s my job to train and discipline you. I don’t expect you to be perfect, and when you act up, this is what I will do.

One of the more useful things I learned as a midshipman at Maine Maritime Academy were the names of the seven masts of a seven masted schooner. When I mentioned to the 600 people in attendance at a Homecoming event that my degree was a BS in Marlinspike Seamanship no one laughed, leaving me in the embarrassing position of having to explain that actually I had a Bachelor of Marine Science degree. Later looking into a mirror I convinced myself that I really didn’t look old enough to have lived in an era when wooden ships were sailed by iron men. What I remembered was that we were wooden men sailing on iron ships that were actually made of steel, however I can remember schooners sailing along the coast of New England and I do remember the seven names of a seven masted schooner. In actual fact only one seven masted schooner was ever built and she was the she a 475 foot, steel hulled wind driven collier/tanker named the Thomas W. Lawson, named after a Boston millionaire, stock-broker, book author, and President of the Boston Bay State Gas Co. Launched in 1902 she held the distinction of being the largest pure sail ship ever built. Originally the names of the masts were the foremast, mainmast, mizzenmast, spanker, jigger, driver, and pusher. Later the spanker became the kicker and the spanker moved to next to last place, with the pusher becoming the after mast. Depending on whom you talked to, the names and their order drifted around and a lot of different naming systems were formed. Some systems used numbers and others the days of the week, however there are very few, if any of the iron men left to dispute what the masts were called. The Thomas W. Lawson had two steam winches and smaller electrically driven winches, to raise and lower her huge sails. The electricity was provided by a generator, driven by what was termed a donkey engine. On November 20, 1907 the large 475 foot schooner sailed for England. Experiencing stormy weather she passed inside of the Bishop Rock lighthouse and attempted to anchor. That night both anchor chains broke, causing the ship to smash against Shag Rock near Annet. The schooner, pounded by heavy seas capsized and sank. Of the 19 souls aboard Captain George W. Dow and the ships engineer Edward L. Rowe were the only survivors. Everyone else, including the pilot, drown and were buried in a mass grave in St Agnes cemetery.

As we now know, of course, there was absolutely no connection between Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein. In spite of that fact, President Bush actually said to the nation at a time of greatly enhanced vulnerability to the fear of attack, “You can’t distinguish between al-Qaeda and Saddam.” History will surely judge America’s decision to invade and occupy a fragile and unstable nation that did not attack us and posed no threat to us as a decision that was not only tragic but absurd. Saddam Hussein was a brutal dictator, to be sure, but not one who posed an imminent danger to us. It is a decision that could have been made only at a moment in time when reason was playing a sharply diminished role in our national deliberations. Thomas Jefferson would have recognized the linkage between absurd tragedy and the absence of reason. As he wrote to James Smith in 1822, “Man, once surrendering his reason, has no remaining guard against absurdities the most monstrous, and like a ship without rudder, is the sport of every wind.” I spoke at the Iowa Democratic Convention in the fall of 2001. Earlier in August, I had prepared a very different kind of speech. But in the aftermath of this tragedy, I proudly, with complete and total sincerity, stood before the Democrats of Iowa and said, “George W. Bush is my president, and I will follow him, as will we all, in this time of crisis.” I was one of millions who felt that same sentiment and gave the president my total trust, asking him to lead us wisely and well. But he redirected the focus of America’s revenge onto Iraq, a nation that had nothing whatsoever to do with September 11.

Then give me your pain, Master. I can bear it as long as I know your lips will touch every mark when you're done, signing it as your work.

I was appalled at the pervasive ignorance and illiteracy of the common people.”30 This was fifteen years after the discovery of oil; it helps to explain the State Department’s concern about whether the government was spending its money wisely, a concern that would eventually prompt the United States to take a direct hand in running the Kingdom’s affairs.

At three o’clock in the morning of Friday, 14th September 1941, I died peacefully in my bed from pneumonia. Friday was a good day to die, because on that day Lieutenant Bruning left early for Athens and did not get back until night–so it gave a man a decent twelve hours to be buried in.

It’s strange what goes through one’s mind during a dangerous situation. In a moment, the fellow could be gutting our clerk and then my employer would be sure to shoot the man dead, but all I could do was stare in fascination at the officer’s mustache. It was a deep, fiery red, waxed in the shape of a “W,” and it quivered when he shouted.

W ciągu minionych wieków ludzie z pewnością po wielokroć zadawali sobie pytanie: „Jeśli istnieje drugie życie, lecz nie ma Boga, co wtedy?”. A co, jeśli istnieje Bóg, lecz nie ma życia po śmierci? O ile wiem, najbardziej światłym pisarzem, jaki odważył się zabrać głos w tej kwestii, był Thomas Hobbes w mistrzowskim dziele z 1651 roku, zatytułowanym Lewiatan. Usilnie zalecam ci lekturę części III, rozdział 38, oraz części IV, rozdział 44, ponieważ stopień opanowania przez Hobbesa zarówno Pisma Świętego, jak i języka angielskiego zapiera dech w piersiach.

I am sorry for you tonight, Mr. President. You are facing one of the greatest decisions of your career. Upon what you decide depends on whether or not you are going to get your canal. If you fall back upon the old methods of sanitation you will fail, just as the French failed. If you back up Dr. Gorgas and his ideas, and you let him make his campaign against mosquitoes, then you get your canal. I can only give you my advice; you must decide for yourself. There is only one way of controlling yellow fever and malaria, and that is the eradication of the mosquitoes. But it is your canal; you must do the choosing and you must choose tonight whether you are going to build that canal.

And so I trust that it is not too petty to point out that it was George H. W. Bush, not Ronald Reagan, who was president when Boris Yeltsin ended the Cold War.

Elder Spencer W. Kimball once said, “I rely upon that promise of the Lord that he will strengthen and empower me that I may be able to do this work to which I have been called” (in Conference Report, October 1943, 18).

…when through man’s social and economic organization she became dependent, and when in consequence he began to pick and choose…women had to charm for her life; and she not only employed the passive arts innate with her sex, but flashed forth in all the glitter that had been one of man’s accessories in courtship, but which he had dispensed with when the superiority acquired through occupational pursuits enabled him to do so. Under new stimulation to be attractive, and with the addition of ornament to the repertory of her charms, woman has assumed an almost aggressive attitude towards courtship…

adequate? Is there any dilemma for which Jesus does not have wisdom? Is it possible to experience any challenge for which Jesus is not equipped? If you have Jesus—the living-right-now Jesus—then you have all you need. What concerns you right now? What frightens you? Hand it over to Jesus, who is closer to you and more available to you than any mere human being can ever be. Sit quietly, and let the reality of his presence settle on you. Take time to be aware. Be present to the Presence. Christ in me, let me live with such keen attentiveness to your indwelling life that you are the focal point that defines how I see every circumstance. On the first day of Pentecost He returned, not this time to be with them externally—clothed with that sinless humanity that God had prepared for Him, being conceived of the Spirit in the womb of Mary—but now to be in them imparting to them His own divine nature, clothing Himself with their humanity. . . . He spoke with their lips. He worked with their hands. This was the miracle of new birth and this remains the very heart of the gospel. —MAJOR W. IAN THOMAS (1914–2007), English writer and theology teacher

With the Docking System, you tell the kids, “I have good news and bad news. The good news is that if you forget a chore, I’ll do it for you. The bad news is that you’re going to pay me for helping you out.” Then tell them the exact amount they will have to pay you.

connection. In April 1855 my great-granduncle Alexander Carter Jr. and his younger brother, Thomas Marion Carter, left their home in Scioto County, Ohio, and headed west. Starting by steamboat, the two brothers floated down the Ohio River until it joined the Mississippi and then traveled upstream to St. Louis. In St. Louis they found little transportation west, so they walked, hitched rides, and rode horseback to reach St. Joseph, Missouri. There they caught a stagecoach to Council Bluffs, Iowa, riding on top of the stage, with seventeen men and women-a three-day ordeal. On May 14, nineteen days after leaving St. Louis, the brothers crossed the Missouri River and landed on the town site of Omaha, then a community of cotton tents and shanties, where lots were being offered to anyone willing to build on them. They refused this offer and pressed on to their final destination, DeSoto, Washington County, Nebraska Territory, where they found only one completed log house and another under construction. There they homesteaded the town of Blair, Nebraska. For three generations there were Carters in Nebraska, first in Blair and then in Omaha, where I was bom. As a native Nebraskan, I feel a particular affinity for William F. Cody, who lived most of his adult life in Nebraska. My father, George W. Carter, could have seen Buffalo Bill's Wild West when it came to Omaha in August 1908. I wish I had known the old scout personally; I am glad I have come to know him better while writing this book. It is also my fond hope that readers will feel as I do, that Buffalo Bill Cody is well worth knowing. Writing a biography of someone long dead is always a challenge. You must come to understand the person, the motivations, the key events that altered the course of history. And there are the records, the letters, the reminiscences of contemporaries. In Bill. Cody's case the documentation is plentiful but sometimes contradictory. Did Buffalo Bill kill Yellow Hand-the "first scalp for Custer"-for example? There are those who say he did and detractors who say he did not. Who are. we . to ' believe? For the most part, if I found two or three accounts that agreed with each other, particularly if there were official government .records supporting him, I felt sure I could give the credit to Cody.

Once, when a visiting philosopher asked how such a learned man got along in the desert without books, Anthony replied, “My book is the nature of created things, and as often as I have a mind to read the words of God, they are at my hand.” Not long after that, St. Augustine (354–430) also identified nature as an alternative scripture: Some people, in order to discover God, read books. But there is a great book: the very appearance of created things. Look above you! Look below you! Note it. Read it. God, whom you want to discover, never wrote that book with ink. Instead He set before your eyes the things that He had made. Can you ask for a louder voice than that? What, heaven and earth shout to you, “God made me!” 3

Since 1884 Bath Iron Works was incorporated by General Thomas W. Hyde who had served in the Union Army during the Civil War. At first the shipyard made iron hardware and windlasses for the wooden ships of the day but soon built warships for the United States Navy although it also started builting commercial vessels. The USS Machias a schooner rigged, steam driven, gunboat was one of two 190-foot (58 m) gunboats, first built by the company. It has been said that Chester Nimitz commanded the Machias during World War I, although this has not been substantiated. In 1892 the yard built their first commercial vessel, the 2,500-ton steel passenger steamer the SS City of Lowell. From these humble beginnings BIW became a major United States shipyard and has designed and built almost every type of naval vessel that the US Navy had or has, including the new stealth destroyers of the Zumwalt class. I first saw Bath Iron Works when I crossed the Kennebec River in 1952. I wrote about this in “Seawater One” describing how our bus crossed on the Carlton Lift Bridge and how I saw the USS Dealey (DE-1006) being built. During World War II, ships built at BIW were considered by Navy officers and sailors to be the toughest afloat, giving rise to the slogan "Bath-built is best-built." In 1995, BIW became a subsidiary of General Dynamics and at that time was the fifth-largest defense contractor in the world.

When the Covenanter Walter Smith climbed the ladder to the scaffold and death, he turned to say goodbye to his relations and friends. Then he said: "Farewell all created enjoyments, pleasures and delights; farewell, sinning and suffering; farewell praying and believing, and welcome heaven and singing. Welcome, Joy in the Holy Ghost; welcome, Father, Son and Holy Ghost; into thy hands I commend my spirit!

Thomas Jefferson quote: “Were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers, or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter.

Rzekł Jezus : „Niech ten, który szuka nie ustaje w poszukiwaniu, aż znajdzie. I gdy znajdzie Zadrży, a jeśli zadrży, będzie się dziwił i będzie panował nad Pełnią.

Michael A. Woodley makes the point that individuals who can properly be classified as geniuses necessarily have brains that are wired differently from normal; they are programmed to focus on their destined tasks and therefore may be unable to deal with the small details of day to day affairs.61 For instance, Einstein once got lost not far from his home in Princeton, New Jersey. He went into a shop and said, ‘Hi, I’m Einstein, can you take me home please?’ He could not drive a car, and many tasks and chores that most people take for granted were beyond him.62 Woodley’s conclusion flows from the idea of genius as a group-selected trait adapted to be an asset to other people. In sum, the potential genius needs to be looked after; because in terms of negotiating the complexities of human society he is likely to be vulnerable and fragile. The corollary of which is that when geniuses are not looked after, they are less likely to fulfil their potential, and everybody loses. For instance, the American reclusive poet Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) was ‘managed’ by Colonel T.W. Higginson; Jane Austen (1775-1817) flourished in the obscurity of her family and the critic and social philosopher John Ruskin (1819-1900) was sheltered and nurtured by his parents, then a cousin. Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274) was looked after by his brother Friars; Genetics-founder Johann Mendel (1822-1884) was secluded in a monastery; Pascal (1623-1662) was looked after by his aristocratic French family.63 Plus many another genius was sustained by a capable wife – Kurt Gödel (1906-1978) depended on his, older, wife Adele; and would only eat food prepared by her; so that when she was hospitalized, Gödel literally starved.

The soul would have no rainbow if the eyes didn’t have tears, Langa. If you’re reading this my mzukulu, it looks like my cookbook has called to you which means I have passed on. Wipe your tears before reading on, I don’t want you staining the pages. Gogo M.M.W.

Surprise: "It is a diplomat's first duty not to be taken by surprise. Politics are dominated by constant change. All things flow. Do not let your imagination run wild. Do not make an elephant out of every gnat. But look upon almost everything as possbile and little as certain. Above all, do not let yourself be hurried. The deep secret of our life lies somewhere between excessive haste and lost opportunities." — Heinrich von Bülow Survival: "Having extensive territory and a large population is not enough to constitue strength. Having strong armor and sharp wepaons is not enough to win victory. Having high walls and deep moats is not enough to comprise security. Having strict orders and penalties is not enough to be authoritative. Those who carry out policies conducive to survival will survive even if small; those who carry out policies conducive to destruction will perish even if large. A small country that actually practices culture and virtue reigns; a large country that is militaristic perishes. An army that remains whole goes to battle only after it has already won; an army doomed to defeat is one that fights first and then seeks to win. When virtues are equal, the many prevail over the few. When powers are comparable, the intelligent prevail over the foolish." — Huainanzi, as translated by Thomas Cleary [地广人众，不足以为强；坚甲利兵，不足以为胜；高城深池，不足以为固；严令繁刑，不足以为威。为存政者，虽小必存；为亡政者，虽大必亡。……故千乘之国，行文德者王；万乘之国，好用兵者亡。故全兵先胜而后战，败兵先战而后求胜。德均则众者胜寡，力敌则智者胜愚……——《淮南子·兵略训》] Suspicion: Ignorance is the mother of suspicion. Sympathy, empathy: "Sympathy for the other ... [side's] position ... [weakens] a negotiator's ability to speak for his own side, but empathy means that he knows how his position looks from the other fellow's shoes, as well as how it feels to be in them." — I. William Zartman and Maureen R. Berman, 1982

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STEP BY STEP ON HOW SOLACE CYBER WORKSTATIONS RESTORED MY LOST USDT Website: h t t p s : / / s o l a c e c y b er w o r k s t a t i o n s . c o m Email: S o l a c e . c y b e r . w o r k s t a t i o n s @ m a i l . c o m WhatsApp: ‪‪+ 1 2 4 0 7 4 3 7 6 8 9‬ One seemingly ordinary morning, I woke up to a message that claimed I had won 50,000 USDT in what was described as a global crypto lottery. At first glance, the message looked professional with official-looking documents, logos, and carefully worded instructions. The communication explained that to release the full prize amount of 50,000 USDT, I first needed to cover certain processing fees amounting to 16,000 USDT. Like many others who fall prey to these schemes, I initially believed it might be genuine. The documents looked convincing, and the tone of the correspondence was formal. The offer of such a large prize was incredibly tempting. I told myself that paying 16,000 USDT now in exchange for 50,000 USDT later seemed like a reasonable step. Without taking the time to question the authenticity of the lottery or do deeper research, I went ahead and transferred the funds as instructed. Almost immediately after making the payment, the communication from the so-called lottery office stopped. My messages went unanswered, and the phone numbers listed in the documents quickly became inactive. Slowly, the sinking realization hit me: I had been scammed. Losing 16,000 USDT was devastating. It was not only about the financial loss but also about the manipulation of my trust and the deep sense of regret I carried for falling victim to such a scheme. Despite the heartbreak, I refused to let the matter end there. Determined to find help, I began searching for solutions. During this process, I came across SOLACE CYBER WORKSTATIONS, an organization that specializes in tracing and recovering funds lost through online fraud, scams, and cryptocurrency theft. From the very beginning, their team treated my case with seriousness. They carefully reviewed the details I provided and analyzed the blockchain transactions. They began the complex process of tracking the stolen funds in a step-by-step manner. Over the course of several weeks, they kept me updated on their progress and explained the actions they were taking to trace the movement of my USDT across wallets. To my astonishment and relief, within just a month, SOLACE CYBER WORKSTATIONS successfully recovered the full 16,000 USDT I had lost. Seeing the funds returned to my wallet felt like a tremendous weight had been lifted off my shoulders. It was not only about regaining the money but also about reclaiming hope and proving that even in the face of scams, recovery is possible.

Using Census of Agriculture data, scholars conservatively estimate that African Americans lost $326 billion in land wealth between 1910 and 1997. I was stunned by the magnitude of this loss and its continued impact on racial economic disparity in the United States. There was no way I could tell this story of the kingdom without connecting it to its full context. Heirs’ property loss continues to this day. There is remarkable work happening at the state level to ensure families are protected from this injustice. I have been inspired by the work of legal scholar and 2020 MacArthur Genius Grant recipient Thomas W. Mitchell, the primary architect of the Uniform Partition of Heirs Property Act (UPHPA), a legislation that helps close the legal loophole of land loss among rural American families by ensuring there is due process. As of now, twenty-four states have enacted the legislation and six have introduced it.

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HOW I SUCCESSFULLY RECOVERED MY 7 YEARS OLD LOST CRYPTO WALLET-FUNDS RETRIEVER ENGINEER I’m Thomas, and I was eagerly preparing for an exciting summer trip to Asia and needed an e-visa in a hurry. In my rush, I stumbled upon what seemed to be a legitimate e-visa service online. I was captivated by the polished design of the website which featured glowing testimonials and a seamless payment process. Without a second thought, I transferred $32,500 in USDT convinced that I was securing a fast-track visa. Days went by and my excitement quickly turned to anxiety as I received no confirmation of my application. When I attempted to contact the service, I was met with silence. Their website had vanished and my emails bounced back. A sinking feeling of dread washed over me I had been scammed. Desperate to recover my funds, I scoured the internet for solutions and came across FUNDS RETRIEVER ENGINEER, a cybersecurity firm specializing in crypto fraud cases. I felt a flicker of hope and decided to reach out to them. Their team responded quickly reassuring me that they had successfully handled similar cases before. They asked for transaction details, wallet addresses and any communication I had with the scammers. With their expertise in advanced blockchain forensics, they began tracing the movement of my USDT across various wallets. Within 72 hours, FUNDS RETRIEVER ENGINEER identified the scammer’s exchange account. They worked diligently with the platform to freeze the funds providing solid evidence of the fraudulent transaction. Thanks to their thorough investigation and expertise, the exchange agreed to reverse the transfer. A week later, I was overjoyed to see my $32,500 back in my wallet. It felt surreal FUNDS RETRIEVER ENGINEER had transformed my nightmare into a story of relief and recovery. I am immensely grateful to FUNDS RETRIEVER ENGINEER for their swift action and professionalism. They not only helped me recover my hard-earned money but also offered invaluable advice on how to avoid future scams. They stressed the importance of verifying e-visa services through official government portals and being wary of offers that seem too good to be true For help W H A T S A P P: +1 8 0 2 9 5 2 3 4 7 0 EmaIL F U N D S R E T R I E V E R [@] E N G I N E E R. C O M OR S U P P O R T @ F U N D S R E T R I E V E R [@] E N G I N E E R. C O M