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El Hombre y el Mar - XIV ¡Tú, por ser hombre libre, amarás siempre el mar! Porque, el mar es tu espejo: en él ves tu propia alma, el despliegue infinito de sus olas, tu espíritu no es abismo que tenga amarguras menores. Te complace el hundirte en lo que es como tú, y le besas los ojos y los brazos, y olvidas hasta el propio rumor que resuena en el pecho escuchando esa queja indomable y violenta. Ambos sois tenebrosos y discretos a un tiempo: hombre, nadie ha sondeado tus abismos, oh mar, nadie sabe qué son tus tesoros más íntimos. Defendéis uno y otro todos vuestros secretos. Y no obstante hace siglos incontables que estáis empeñados en lucha sin piedad y sin tregua. Hasta tal punto amáis la matanza y la muerte, luchadores eternos, implacables hermanos. ↗
My friends, remember this: There are no bad herbs, and no bad men; there are only bad cultivators. ↗
Christianity was not meant to be a weapon or an argument or a show of force or a political tool. Or an act of aggression or coercion. It was never meant to be a cause or a prop for a cause. Or something to pacify and make thousands go to bed happy and unthinking. It was meant to be a challenge, yes, but that challenge to a second life was meant to be laced with kindness. If someone forces you to choose between God is holy and God is love choose God is love because holiness without love translates into tyranny. ↗
Ben Says: Bullying is not cool...never is & never was! Be a winner and stop bullying today! Timothy Pina Bullying Ben ↗
I pray, before I die, that I receive the power to believe in fairytales again, Oh' how I would love to laugh and know that God laughed with me. ↗
I must not forget that these coarsely-clad little peasants are of flesh and blood as good as the scions of the gentlest genealogy; and that the germs of native excellence, refinement, intelligence, kind feeling, are as likely to exist in their hearts as in those of the best born. My duty will be to develop these germs: surely I shall find some happiness in discharging that office. ↗
No other thing or no other person is going to make me happy in life, I just have to do that myself. ↗
Worn out with this torture of thought, I rose to my knees. Night was come, and her planets were risen: a safe, still night; too serene for the companionship of fear. We know that God is everywhere; but certainly we feel His presence most when His works are on the grandest scale spread before us: and it is in the unclouded night-sky, where His worlds wheel their silent course, that we read clearest His infinitude, His omnipotence, His omnipresence. I had risen to my knees to pray for Mr. Rochester. Looking up, I, with tear-dimmed eyes, saw the mighty Milky Way. Remembering what it was--what countless systems there swept space like a soft trace of light--I felt the might and strength of God. Sure was I of His efficiency to save what He had made: convinced I grew that neither earth should perish, nor one of the souls it treasured. I turned my prayer to thanksgiving: the Source of Life was also the Saviour of spirits. Mr. Rochester was safe: he was God's, and by God would he be guarded. ↗
They were not friends, Comdrade Pillai and Inspector Thomas Matthew, and they didn't trust each other. But they understood each other perfectly. They were both men whom childhood had abandoned without a trace. Men without curiosity. Without doubt. Both in their own way truly, terrifyingly, adult. They looked out into the world and never wondered how it worked, because they knew. They worked it. They were mechanics who serviced different parts of the same machine. ↗
