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فرغم الوعي، من جهة، بضرورة وجدوى ما قام به الخليفة الثالث "عثمان بن عفان" من تقنين المصحف، فإنه يبقى لزوم الإشارة إلى ما صاحب هذا العمل مما يُقال أنه الإنتقال من القرآن "الناطق" إلى القرآن "الصامت"، وبما ينطوى عليه هذا الإنتقال من إهدار ثرائه وحيويته. ومن جهة أخري، فإن ما قام به الأمويون، إبان صراعهم السياسى مع الإمام على بن أبى طالب، من رفع المصاحف على أسنّه الرماح والسيوف كان الواقعة الكاشفة عن إرادتهم فى تثبيت القرآن كسلطة حارسة لسلطانهم، وذلك بعد أن تبدى لهم جلياً أن فاعليته فى إنقاذ هذا السلطان تفوق فاعلية السيف بكثير. وغنيٌّ عن البيان أن هذا التمييز بين قرآن النبى الحى وبين القرآن المنحبس وراء التقييدات التى تفرضها السلطة، إنما يعكس ما يكاد يكون تقابلاً يعرفه دارسو الأديان على العموم بين "دين التقليد" الذى تحرسه مؤسسات السلطة لتسوس به الناس، وبين "الدين الحي" الذى يقصد إلى إذكاء الوعى وتحرير الإرادة. وإذ تحرس المؤسسة دين التقليد، لأنه يكون حارساً لها بدوره، فإن سعياً إلى تحرير الدين من سطوة التقليد، واستعادته فى انفتاحه وحيويته الأولي، سوف يعرى تلك المؤسسة مما تستر به عورتها. ومن هنا أن انتقام المؤسسة من هؤلاء الساعين إلى استعادة الدين الحى يكون قاسياً حقاً، لأن ذلك يكون بمثابة تعرية لها من غطائها الإيديولوجي ↗
Enjoy a small dramatic excerpt of CRESCENT SUN: SONS OF BLOOD...Book 2 in my vampire series! Thayne looked over at Sebastian and released his hold on Leelee. Sebastian could feel himself trembling from his father's icy stare. He had never heard his father yell, but he had heard of his father's temper. Sebastian stood frozen in place. Thayne chuckled as he turned his attention back to Leelee. ... “It is good to see that while I was away, you took yourself a young lover.” Thayne said mockingly, as he walked passed his wife a short distance. Thayne stopped, but kept his back to Leelee. “Of course I will kill him as soon as I've rested.” Thayne said coolly, as he continued down the long hall. Sebastian's eyes widened in true fear at his father's words. “He is not my lover.” Leelee said softly in Vamprin. Thayne stopped walking when he heard his wife speaking his language, but kept his back to Leelee. “You've learned my tongue in my absence.” Thayne said calmly. “I am impressed Leelee Markum.” Thayne said smoothly. Leelee walked over to Sebastian and took his hand. “He is your son.” She said. “Father.” Sebastian said, his voice shaky. Thayne turned around and quickly went to Sebastian. He stood in front of his son and wife. Sebastian briefly looked into his father's blood red eyes. He lowered his own and offered his father a bow of respect. “My king.” Sebastian said in their tongue. “This is Sebastian, your son.” Leelee said. Sebastian stood tall at his mother's introduction. Neither Sebastian nor Leelee moved as Thayne slowly made his way around Sebastian. Thayne stopped directly behind his son. Leelee let her son's hand go and faced Thayne. She watched as a sly smile came across her husband's lips. Before she could open her mouth to speak, Leelee watched in horror as Thayne grabbed Sebastian's hair and bent his head over to expose the side of his neck. Thayne's fangs quickly grew and he bit down into Sebastian's neck. Sebastian screamed out in pain and Leelee punched and screamed at Thayne. The moment Thayne bit into his son's neck, Leelee's scent escaped from the open wound. Thayne released his son and watched as Sebastian stumbled against a wall in fear. Sebastian held his hand to his neck and Leelee ran to her son's aid. Thayne continued his walk down the hall. Leelee moved Sebastian's hand and watched as his skin immediately healed before her eyes. Leelee looked in shock at Thayne. “Are you fucking crazy?” Leelee yelled. Thayne stopped, but again kept his back to his wife. “You are correct Miss Markum, he is my son.” Thayne said coolly. “Sebastian.” Thayne said. “Yes father.” Sebastian replied. “Escort your mother to her room.” Thayne replied sternly. “Yes father.” Sebastian replied. Thayne walked away from his wife and son. ↗
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would not take the garbage out! She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans, Candy the yams and spice the hams, And though her daddy would scream and shout, She simply would not take the garbage out. And so it piled up to the ceilings: Coffee grounds, potato peelings, Brown bananas, rotten peas, Chunks of sour cottage cheese. It filled the can, it covered the floor, It cracked the window and blocked the door With bacon rinds and chicken bones, Drippy ends of ice cream cones, Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel, Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal, Pizza crusts and withered greens, Soggy beans and tangerines, Crusts of black burned buttered toast, Gristly bits of beefy roasts. . . The garbage rolled on down the hall, It raised the roof, it broke the wall. . . Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs, Globs of gooey bubble gum, Cellophane from green baloney, Rubbery blubbery macaroni, Peanut butter, caked and dry, Curdled milk and crusts of pie, Moldy melons, dried-up mustard, Eggshells mixed with lemon custard, Cold french fried and rancid meat, Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat. At last the garbage reached so high That it finally touched the sky. And all the neighbors moved away, And none of her friends would come to play. And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said, "OK, I'll take the garbage out!" But then, of course, it was too late. . . The garbage reached across the state, From New York to the Golden Gate. And there, in the garbage she did hate, Poor Sarah met an awful fate, That I cannot now relate Because the hour is much too late. But children, remember Sarah Stout And always take the garbage out! ↗
Tiny gold sparks flared in his irises. "You're in my rooms in my bathtub naked and you're still mouthing off." Did he expect anything different? "Hey, I didn't kick or punch you in the throat. I consider this progress. And you haven't choked me again, which is some sort of record for you... ↗
Meanwhile,” Simon added, “I wanted to tell you that lately I‘ve been cross-dressing. Also, I‘m sleeping with your mom. I thought you should know. ↗
He wants her in his bedroom. And not in that way — no girl has ever been in his bedroom that way. It is his private space, his sanctuary. But he wants Clary there. He wants her to see him, the reality of him, not the image he shows the world. He wants to lie down on the bed with her and have her curl into him. He wants to hold her as she breathes softly through the night; to see her as no one else sees her: vulnerable and asleep. To see her and to be seen. ↗
The last time that I consciously wrote anything to 'save the honor of the Left', as I rather pompously put it, was my little book on the crookedness and cowardice and corruption (to put it no higher) of Clinton. I used leftist categories to measure him, in other words, and to show how idiotic was the belief that he was a liberal's champion. Again, more leftists than you might think were on my side or in my corner, and the book was published by Verso, which is the publishing arm of the New Left Review. However, if a near-majority of leftists and liberals choose to think that Clinton was the target of a witch-hunt and the victim of 'sexual McCarthyism', an Arkansan Alger Hiss in other words, you become weary of debating on their terms and leave them to make the best of it. ↗
Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds. -Albert Einstein The hottest place in Hell is reserved for those who remain neutral in times of great moral conflict. Martin Luther King, Jr. ↗
#phrases #profound #quotes-to-live-by #read #words-of-wisdom
