For I do not believe God means us thus to divide life into two halves - to wear a grave face on Sunday, and to think it out-of-place to even so much as mention Him on a week-day. Do you think He cares to see only kneeling figures and to hear only tones of prayer - and that He does not also love to see the lambs leaping in the sunlight, and to hear the merry voices of the children, as they roll amoung the hay? Surely their innocent laughter is as sweet in His ears as the grandest anthem that ever rolled up from the "dim religious light" of some solemn cathedral?
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Never strike a child in anger. When could I strike him? When he is kissing me on my birthday? When he is recuperating from the measles? Do I slap the Bible out of his hand on Sunday.
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The true beloveds of this world are in their lover's eyes lilacs opening, ship lights, school bells, a landscape, remembered conversations, friends, a child's Sunday, lost voices, one's favorite suit, autumn and all seasons, memory, yes, it being the earth and water of existence, memory.
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For I do not believe God means us thus to divide life into two halves - to wear a grave face on Sunday, and to think it out-of-place to even so much as mention Him on a week-day. Do you think He cares to see only kneeling figures and to hear only tones of prayer - and that He does not also love to see the lambs leaping in the sunlight, and to hear the merry voices of the children, as they roll amoung the hay? Surely their innocent laughter is as sweet in His ears as the grandest anthem that ever rolled up from the 'dim religious light' of some solemn cathedral?
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Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suit on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life. But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?
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On a very cold, snowy Sunday in February, only the pastor and one farmer arrived at the village church. The pastor said, 'Well, I guess we won't have a service today.' The farmer replied: 'Heavens!, if even only one cow shows up at feeding time, I feed it.'
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I believe the Bible is the word of God from cover to cover.
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A Sunday school is a prison in which children do penance for the evil conscience of their parents.
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Religion needs a baptism of horse sense.
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The fact that the lower animals are excited by the same emotions as ourselves is so well established, that it will not be necessary to weary the reader by many details. Terror acts in the same manner on them as on us, causing the muscles to tremble, the heart to palpitate, the sphincters to be relaxed, and the hair to stand on end. Suspicion, the offspring of fear, is eminently characteristic of most wild animals. It is, I think, impossible to read the account given by Sir E. Tennent, of the behaviour of the female elephants, used as decoys, without admitting that they intentionally practise deceit, and well know what they are about. Courage and timidity are extremely variable qualities in the individuals of the same species, as is plainly seen in our dogs. Some dogs and horses are ill-tempered, and easily turn sulky; others are good-tempered; and these qualities are certainly inherited. Every one knows how liable animals are to furious rage, and how plainly they shew it. Many, and probably true, anecdotes have been published on the long-delayed and artful revenge of various animals. The accurate Rengger, and Brehm state that the American and African monkeys which they kept tame, certainly revenged themselves. Sir Andrew Smith, a zoologist whose scrupulous accuracy was known to many persons, told me the following story of which he was himself an eye-witness; at the Cape of Good Hope an officer had often plagued a certain baboon, and the animal, seeing him approaching one Sunday for parade, poured water into a hole and hastily made some thick mud, which he skilfully dashed over the officer as he passed by, to the amusement of many bystanders. For long afterwards the baboon rejoiced and triumphed whenever he saw his victim.
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You might come here Sunday on a whim. Say your life broke down. The last good kiss you had was years ago.
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Live so that when the final summons comes you will leave something more behind you than an epitaph on a tombstone or an obituary in a newspaper.
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I hung in there well. I didn't play particularly well. I hit a lot of poor drives, and when I drove the ball well I continued to drive it in the first cut (of rough). It was kind of frustrating because nothing really seemed to get the momentum going. When I did get the momentum going, like on Sunday, I made a mistake.
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A revival does two things. First, it returns the Church from her backsliding and second, it causes the conversion of men and women; and it always includes the conviction of sin on the part of the Church. What a spell the devil seems to cast over the Church today!
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Gosh, I haven't seen that many fumbles by a Jets' quarterback since Joe Namath tried to kiss Suzy Kolber on an ESPN Sunday night game a couple years ago, ... The Chiefs played defense about as well as Suzy did �¢ Joe didn't get to first base, and neither did we. But we've got Chad on a strenuous hand-strengthening regimen: he's squeezing Charmin toilet paper 500 times a day.
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And it's true we are immune When fact is fiction and TV reality And the today the millions cry We eat and drink when tomorrow they die
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Like the old motto of a famous Sunday paper, 'All human life was there' in the stately circle of the Mountbatten-Windsors, as the family coped in semipublic with those everlasting elements of human interest-sickness, scandal, family tension and divorce.
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The rivers of America will run with blood filled to their banks before we will submit to them taking the Bible out of our schools.
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At Kansas City, Kansas, before the saloons were closed, they were getting ready to build an addition to the jail. Now the doors swing idly on the hinges and there is nobody to lock in the jails.
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Hell is the highest reward that the devil can offer you for being a servant of his.
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SURE-FIRE SINGLES AD:
Famous Writer needs woman to organize his life and spend his money. Loves to turn off Sunday football and go to the Botanical Gardens with that special someone. Will obtain plastic surgery if necessary.
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Fr., I want there to be no peasant in my realm so poor that he will not have a chicken in his pot every Sunday.
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After all is said that can be said upon the liquor traffic, its influence is degrading upon the individual, the family, politics and business, and upon everything that you touch in this old world.
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Christianity means a lot more than church membership.
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A group of politicians deciding to dump a President because his morals are bad is like the Mafia getting together to bump off the Godfather for not going to church on Sunday.
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I believe there is no doctrine more dangerous to the Church today than to convey the impression that a revival is something peculiar in itself and cannot be judged by the same rules of causes and effect as other things.
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Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers..... Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind numbing, spirit crushing game shows, stuffing junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life..... But why would I want to do a thing like that?
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They tell me a revival is only temporary; so is a bath, but it does you good.
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When lip service to some mysterious deity permits bestiality on Wednesday and absolution on Sunday, cash me out.
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Temptation is the devil looking through the keyhole. Yielding is opening the door and inviting him in.
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