The Biblical writers not only had no knowledge of these things, but they had a perverted concept of life and the universe. Their concept was that man was a victim of blood pollution and his only salvation was by a blood atonement.I remember once seeing a small pamphlet entitled, 'What the Bible Teaches about Morality.' On opening the little booklet, it was discovered to be nothing but blank pages! Another such pamphlet might very appropriately be published entitled, 'What the Bible Reveals about Disease, Medicine and Health,' and blank pages should be used for all the Bible contains about these vital subjects.On the contrary, these benefits have been denounced by the believers in the Bible, and by the representatives of the Bible's deity as being contrary to 'God's Plan.' Does not the Bible plainly state that only by the sweat of his brow is man to labor for the bread he eats? Here is the exact Biblical quotation: 'In the sweat of thy face thou shalt eat bread...' and why? Only because he sought knowledge.And does not the Bible God place a curse upon man for the knowledge that has been such a solace and benefit to him? Here is another exact Biblical quotation: '... cursed be the ground for thy sake; in pain thou shalt eat of it all the days of thy life.'The Bible is a lie.It is a fake and a fraud.I denounce this book and its God. I hold it in utter detestation.Every man and woman who has contributed to the relief of the pain and suffering of humanity has been an infidel to the Bible God! Every new invention, every new discovery for the benefit of man violates these Biblical edicts!I say, seek knowledge—defy this tyrant God—it is your only salvation.

Now, your Honor, I have spoken about the [Civil] war. I believed in it. I don’t know whether I was crazy or not. Sometimes I think perhaps I was. I approved of it; I joined in the general cry of madness and despair. I urged men to fight. I was safe because I was too old to go. I was like the rest. What did they do? Right or wrong, justifiable or unjustifiable -- which I need not discuss today -- it changed the world. For four long years the civilized world was engaged in killing men. Christian against Christian, barbarian uniting with Christians to kill Christians; anything to kill. It was taught in every school, aye in the Sunday schools. The little children played at war. The toddling children on the street. Do you suppose this world has ever been the same since? How long, your Honor, will it take for the world to get back the humane emotions that were slowly growing before the war? How long will it take the calloused hearts of men before the scars of hatred and cruelty shall be removed?We read of killing one hundred thousand men in a day. We read about it and we rejoiced in it -- if it was the other fellows who were killed. We were fed on flesh and drank blood. Even down to the prattling babe. I need not tell you how many upright, honorable young boys have come into this court charged with murder, some saved and some sent to their death, boys who fought in this war and learned to place a cheap value on human life. You know it and I know it. These boys were brought up in it. The tales of death were in their homes, their playgrounds, their schools; they were in the newspapers that they read; it was a part of the common frenzy -- what was a life? It was nothing. It was the least sacred thing in existence and these boys were trained to this cruelty.

SpleenJe suis comme le roi d'un pays pluvieux,Riche, mais impuissant, jeune et pourtant très vieux,Qui, de ses précepteurs méprisant les courbettes,S'ennuie avec ses chiens comme avec d'autres bêtes.Rien ne peut l'égayer, ni gibier, ni faucon,Ni son peuple mourant en face du balcon.Du bouffon favori la grotesque balladeNe distrait plus le front de ce cruel malade;Son lit fleurdelisé se transforme en tombeau,Et les dames d'atour, pour qui tout prince est beau,Ne savent plus trouver d'impudique toilettePour tirer un souris de ce jeune squelette.Le savant qui lui fait de l'or n'a jamais puDe son être extirper l'élément corrompu,Et dans ces bains de sang qui des Romains nous viennent,Et dont sur leurs vieux jours les puissants se souviennent,II n'a su réchauffer ce cadavre hébétéOù coule au lieu de sang l'eau verte du Léthé //I'm like the king of a rain-country, richbut sterile, young but with an old wolf's itch,one who escapes his tutor's monologues,and kills the day in boredom with his dogs;nothing cheers him, darts, tennis, falconry,his people dying by the balcony;the bawdry of the pet hermaphroditeno longer gets him through a single night;his bed of fleur-de-lys becomes a tomb;even the ladies of the court, for whomall kings are beautiful, cannot put onshameful enough dresses for this skeleton;the scholar who makes his gold cannot inventwashes to cleanse the poisoned element;even in baths of blood, Rome's legacy,our tyrants' solace in senility,he cannot warm up his shot corpse, whose foodis syrup-green Lethean ooze, not blood.— Robert Lowell, from Marthiel & Jackson Matthews, eds., The Flowers of Evil (NY: New Directions, 1963)

I’ll find out who’s inside. Wait here and keep alert!’ Hallam rasped. He skirted the main path to skulk towards one of the shuttered windows on the building’s eastern wall. There was a crack in the wood and he gently inched closer to peer inside.There was a hearth-fire with a pot bubbling away and a battered table made of a length of wood over two pieces of cut timber. A small ham hung from the rafters, away from the rats and mice. He couldn’t see anyone but there was a murmur of voices. Hallam leaned in even closer and a young boy with hair the colour of straw saw the movement to stare. It was Little Jim. Thank God, the child was safe. Snot hung from his nose and he was pale. Hallam put a finger to his lips, but the boy, not even four, did not understand, and just gaped innocently back.Movement near the window. A man wearing a blue jacket took up a stone bottle and wiped his long flowing moustache afterwards. His hair was shoulder-length, falling unruly over the red collar of his jacket. Tied around his neck was a filthy red neckerchief. A woman moaned and the man grinned with tobacco stained teeth at the sound. Laughter and French voices. The woman whimpered and Little Jim turned to watch unseen figures. His eyes glistened and his bottom lip dropped. The woman began to plead and Hallam instinctively growled.The Frenchman, hearing the noise, pushed the shutter open and the pistol’s cold muzzle pressed against his forehead. Hallam watched the man’s eyes narrow and then widen, before his mouth opened. Whatever he intended to shout was never heard, because the ball smashed through his skull to erupt in a bloody spray as it exited the back of the Frenchman’s head.There was a brief moment of silence. ‘28th!’ Hallam shouted, as he stepped back against the wall. ‘Make ready!

Think about itThis xenophobia has hurt me without anyone touching me, but by what I am seeing and the damages it's causing to this country, business, celebrities and citizens.For I believe there is a conspiracy behind this xenophobia attack. This thing might be political also. I think there are people who being paid for this attacks. To cause this violence. When people are being transported by train and buses to cause xenophobia to other provinces and cities. Who is funding those people. I am sure those people are following mandate or protocols from someone.What kind of people or humans are this. Who would watch a person burn to Ashes screaming his/her life out. They burn and killed people whom they don't know and who have done nothing direct to them but who have helped them.They kill and injure innocent people. They commit murder and enjoy killing. Then they wrap it around xenophobia. That's not xenophobia that's murder.They do breakings , rape and steal wrap it around xenophobia. That's not xenophobia that's crime.This hatefull people they are taking the country down. They are costing the country locally and internationally.Let's stop promoting this xenophobia attacks. But let's stand against them. It might be nice now you laughing. But wait until mistakenly you get shot or die because this.Now I am afraid to walk in the street of this country. Something as small as this .if we entertain it. If we support it can cause war on our nation. Say no to Xenophobia.When your promoting and supporting xenophobia. Your promoting crime , murder and theft. Tomorrow don't complain when this happen to you. When someone steal and kill you.People let's stand against this evil spirit, psychopaths, unacceptable violent behaviour. And these hateful individuals who are being paid to destroy this country. United we stand , divided we fall.

Maana halisi ya falsafa ya 'Nitakuwa tayari kufungwa kwa ajili ya matatizo ya watu', au Falsafa ya Kufungwa, ni uvutano mkubwa uliopo kati ya Roho Mtakatifu na Roho wa Shetani kwa sisi wanadamu wote. Jambo lolote baya limtokealo mwanadamu husababishwa na Shetani na si Mungu na watu hupata matatizo kwa sababu ya kudharau miito ya mioyo yao wenyewe, au kudharau kile Roho Mtakatifu anachowambia. Unaweza kuvunja sheria kwa manufaa ya wengi kwani mibaraka haikosi maadui. Ukifungwa kwa kuvunja sheria kwa ajili ya manufaa ya wengi watu watakulaani lakini Mungu atakubariki. Kwa nguvu ya uwezo wa Roho Mtakatifu Mungu atamshinda Shetani kwa niaba yako. Tukijifunza namna ya kuwasiliana na Roho Mtakatifu hatutapata matatizo kwani Mungu anataka tuishi kwa amani katika siku zote alizotupangia, licha ya damu yetu kuwa chafu. Mtu anapokufa kwa mfano, Roho wa Shetani amemshinda Roho Mtakatifu na Roho Mtakatifu hatalipendi hilo kwa niaba ya Mungu. Ikitokea mtu akayashinda majaribu ya Shetani katika kipindi ambacho watu wote wameyashindwa; mtu huyo amebarikiwa na Mungu, ili aitumie mibaraka hiyo kuwaepusha wenzake na roho mbaya wa Shetani. Nikisema 'Kwa nguvu ya uwezo wa Roho Mtakatifu Mungu atamshinda Shetani kwa niaba yako' namaanisha, Roho Mtakatifu ana uwezo wake na Roho wa Shetani ana uwezo wake pia. Ukimshinda Roho wa Shetani uwezo wa Roho Mtakatifu umekuwa mkubwa kuliko uwezo wa Roho wa Shetani, na ukishindwa kumtii Roho Mtakatifu uwezo wa Roho wa Shetani umekuwa mkubwa kuliko uwezo wa Roho Mtakatifu, ilhali uwezo wa Mungu ni mkubwa kuliko wa Roho Mtakatifu na wa Roho wa Shetani kwa pamoja. Mungu humtumia Roho Mtakatifu kumlindia watoto wake ambao ni sisi dhidi ya Shetani … Kila akifanyacho Roho Mtakatifu hapa duniani ni kwa niaba ya Mungu, na tukimtii Roho Mtakatifu Mungu atamshinda Shetani kwa niaba yetu. Mtu anapofungwa kwa kutetea maslahi ya umma wewe unayemfunga umemtii Roho wa Shetani. Yule anayefungwa amemtii Roho Mtakatifu maana amebarikiwa, na mibaraka haikosi maadui.

Maana halisi ya falsafa ya 'Nitakuwa tayari kufungwa kwa ajili ya matatizo ya watu', au Falsafa ya Kufungwa, ni uvutano mkubwa uliopo kati ya Roho Mtakatifu na Roho wa Shetani kwa sisi wanadamu wote. Jambo lolote baya limtokealo mwanadamu husababishwa na Shetani na si Mungu na watu hupata matatizo kwa sababu ya kudharau miito ya mioyo yao wenyewe, au kudharau kile Roho Mtakatifu anachowambia. Unaweza kuvunja sheria kwa manufaa ya wengi kwani mibaraka haikosi maadui. Ukifungwa kwa kuvunja sheria kwa ajili ya manufaa ya wengi watu watakulaani lakini Mungu atakubariki. Kwa nguvu ya uwezo wa Roho Mtakatifu Mungu atamshinda Shetani kwa niaba yako. Tukijifunza namna ya kuwasiliana na Roho Mtakatifu hatutapata matatizo kwani Mungu anataka tuishi kwa amani katika siku zote alizotupangia, licha ya damu yetu kuwa chafu. Mtu anapokufa kwa mfano, Roho wa Shetani amemshinda Roho Mtakatifu na Roho Mtakatifu hatalipendi hilo kwa niaba ya Mungu. Ikitokea mtu akayashinda majaribu ya Shetani katika kipindi ambacho watu wote wameyashindwa; mtu huyo amebarikiwa na Mungu, ili aitumie mibaraka hiyo kuwaepusha wenzake na roho mbaya wa Shetani. Nikisema 'Kwa nguvu ya uwezo wa Roho Mtakatifu Mungu atamshinda Shetani kwa niaba yako' namaanisha, Roho Mtakatifu ana uwezo wake na Roho wa Shetani ana uwezo wake pia. Ukimshinda Roho wa Shetani uwezo wa Roho Mtakatifu umekuwa mkubwa kuliko uwezo wa Roho wa Shetani, na ukishindwa kumtii Roho Mtakatifu uwezo wa Roho wa Shetani umekuwa mkubwa kuliko uwezo wa Roho Mtakatifu, ilhali uwezo wa Mungu ni mkubwa kuliko wa Roho Mtakatifu na wa Roho wa Shetani kwa pamoja. Mungu humtumia Roho Mtakatifu kumlindia watoto wake ambao ni sisi dhidi ya Shetani … Kila akifanyacho Roho Mtakatifu hapa duniani ni kwa niaba ya Mungu, na tukimtii Roho Mtakatifu Mungu atamshinda Shetani kwa niaba yetu. Mtu anapofungwa kwa kutetea maslahi ya umma wewe unayemfunga umemtii Roho wa Shetani. Yule anayefungwa amemtii Roho Mtakatifu maana amebarikiwa, na mibaraka haikosi maadui.

Humanity is its own worst enemy. What chance do any other species have?Survival is the parchment upon which the Law of Nature is inscribed.And what I'll find was always mine.And what I'll say, I've said before.Your kisses taste like blood and wineAnd leave me spent upon the floor.I have endured torments you cannot yet imagine. I have climbed mountains to attain greatness in body and spirit. I have dug to the depths of the Earth to learn the secrets of Creation. I have flourished on the Blood of my people and the blood of legends. I have slept in the arms of the infernal and walked a path of hopelessness. I dwell in Nothing and Nothing dwells within me. My god is castigation and I am the hand of God.For the more Blood one drinks, the more Blood one must have… Nightmares are the ineluctable lessons of the illuminated psyche.A Vampire's love is like quicksand: it surrounds you and engulfs you but ultimately, it kills you.There is no good, beloved. This is no evil. There is only instinct.Own your darkness. It is the only way to be truly free.Do you know what I find most gratifying about being able to see into the depths of the cosmos? The myriad colours. The multitudinous hues. Humanity can never behold what wonder surrounds them. And you previously human Vampires can only grasp hints of the incredulous kaleidescope that makes up Creation. My Elven eyes can see colours that are beyond your comprehension, so the symphony of the universe is laid bare before my sight. It stirs both elation. and humility. I see a priest of these dread arcana, the mark of Tuthalidon carved and secreted away deep within a heart that exists only to devour. I behold a moon drenched in the blood of martyrs…the Blood of monsters. Blood spilt upon the altars of the Wise. The devastation of oblivion shall encompass all lands and twist all language. In the night shall the lost ones wander, pulling into their fold the immortal and doomed. I see the depth of his endless eyes, searching searching forever searching, seeking out the damned, cleansing Eterah and dressing her in the raiment of abominations.

سماعاً بني العرب الاكرمين ... اُباة التواني حماة الذممأفيقوا فمن نام عن حقه... عراه الأذى ولواه العدمرعى الله شعباً يريد العلى... ويطلبها تحت خفق العلمإذا لم نقم قومة حرة... ونرجع عهدا طواه القدمفأين الفخار الذي ندعي... وأين الإباء وأين الكرمفتى الشعر هذا مجال قرير... فنادي الإباء ونادي الشيمونادي الشباب كبار النفوس... ونادي الشباب عماد الأممفلا أمل اليوم إلا بهم... لأن الشباب عماد الأمموقل لبني العُرب لا تيأسوا... فإن الهموم ستحُي الهمموإن المقام على الضيم عار... ولا يغسل العار إلا بدمولابد من نهضة للعلى...بها ترفع العرب ذاك العلم

There's folly in her stridethat's the rumorjustified by liesI've seen her up closebeneath the sheetsand sometime during the summershe was mine for a few sweet months in the falland parts of December((( To get to the heart of this unsolvable equation, one must first become familiar with the physical, emotional, and immaterial makeup as to what constitutes both war and peace. )))I found her looking through a windowthe same window I'd been looking throughShe smiled and her eyes never falteredthis folly was a crime((( The very essence of war is destructive, though throughout the years utilized as a means of creating peace, such an equation might seem paradoxical to the untrained eye. Some might say using evil to defeat evil is counterproductive, and gives more meaning to the word “futile”. Others, like Edmund Burke, would argue that “the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men and women to do nothing.” )))She had an identity I could identify withsomething my fingertips could caress in the night((( There is such a limitless landscape within the mind, no two minds are alike. And this is why as a race we will forever be at war with each other.What constitutes peace is in the mind of the beholder. )))Have you heard the argument?This displacement of men and womenand women and menthe minds we all havethe beliefs we all shareSlipping inside of usthoughts and religions and bodiesall bare((( “Without darkness, there can be no light,”he once said. To demonstrate this theory, during one of his seminars he held a piece of white chalk and drew a line down the center of a blackboard. Explaining that without the blackness of the board, the white line would be invisible. )))When she leftshe kissed with eyes openI knew this because I'd done the sameSometimes we saw eye to eye like thatVery briefly,she considered an apotheosisa synthesisa rendering of her follyinto solidarity((( To believe that a world-wide lay down of arms is possible, however, is the delusion of the pacifist; the dream of the optimist; and the joke of the realist. Diplomacy only goes so far, and in spite of our efforts to fight with words- there are times when drawing swords of a very different nature are surely called for. )))Experiencing the subsequent sunriseinhaling and drinkingbreaking mirrors and regurgitatingjust to start againall in allI was just another gash in the bark((( Plato once said:“Only the dead have seen the end of war.” Perhaps the death of us all is called for in this time of emotional desperation. War is a product of the mind; only with the death of such will come the end of the bloodshed. Though this may be a fairly realistic view of such an issue, perhaps there is an optimistic outlook on the horizon. Not every sword is double edged, but every coin is double sided. )))Leaving town and throwing shit out the windowdrinking boroughs and borrowing spare changeI glimpsed the rear view mirrorstole a glimpse reallyI've believed in looking back for a whileit helps to have one last viewa reminder in case one ever decides to rebelin the event the self regressesand makes the declaration of devastationonce more((( Thus, if we wish to eliminate the threat of war today- complete human annihilation may be called for. )))

When reading the history of the Jewish people, of their flight from slavery to death, of their exchange of tyrants, I must confess that my sympathies are all aroused in their behalf. They were cheated, deceived and abused. Their god was quick-tempered unreasonable, cruel, revengeful and dishonest. He was always promising but never performed. He wasted time in ceremony and childish detail, and in the exaggeration of what he had done. It is impossible for me to conceive of a character more utterly detestable than that of the Hebrew god. He had solemnly promised the Jews that he would take them from Egypt to a land flowing with milk and honey. He had led them to believe that in a little while their troubles would be over, and that they would soon in the land of Canaan, surrounded by their wives and little ones, forget the stripes and tears of Egypt. After promising the poor wanderers again and again that he would lead them in safety to the promised land of joy and plenty, this God, forgetting every promise, said to the wretches in his power:—'Your carcasses shall fall in this wilderness and your children shall wander until your carcasses be wasted.' This curse was the conclusion of the whole matter. Into this dust of death and night faded all the promises of God. Into this rottenness of wandering despair fell all the dreams of liberty and home. Millions of corpses were left to rot in the desert, and each one certified to the dishonesty of Jehovah. I cannot believe these things. They are so cruel and heartless, that my blood is chilled and my sense of justice shocked. A book that is equally abhorrent to my head and heart, cannot be accepted as a revelation from God.When we think of the poor Jews, destroyed, murdered, bitten by serpents, visited by plagues, decimated by famine, butchered by each, other, swallowed by the earth, frightened, cursed, starved, deceived, robbed and outraged, how thankful we should be that we are not the chosen people of God. No wonder that they longed for the slavery of Egypt, and remembered with sorrow the unhappy day when they exchanged masters. Compared with Jehovah, Pharaoh was a benefactor, and the tyranny of Egypt was freedom to those who suffered the liberty of God.While reading the Pentateuch, I am filled with indignation, pity and horror. Nothing can be sadder than the history of the starved and frightened wretches who wandered over the desolate crags and sands of wilderness and desert, the prey of famine, sword, and plague. Ignorant and superstitious to the last degree, governed by falsehood, plundered by hypocrisy, they were the sport of priests, and the food of fear. God was their greatest enemy, and death their only friend.It is impossible to conceive of a more thoroughly despicable, hateful, and arrogant being, than the Jewish god. He is without a redeeming feature. In the mythology of the world he has no parallel. He, only, is never touched by agony and tears. He delights only in blood and pain. Human affections are naught to him. He cares neither for love nor music, beauty nor joy. A false friend, an unjust judge, a braggart, hypocrite, and tyrant, sincere in hatred, jealous, vain, and revengeful, false in promise, honest in curse, suspicious, ignorant, and changeable, infamous and hideous:—such is the God of the Pentateuch.

As he sat up, he heard soft dripping sounds from the bathroom, little plips like water slipping over the edges of the tub and into the floor. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he realized where he‟d last heard that sound. His muscles tight with strain from his earlier exertions, he stood and walked warily toward the half open bathroom door and the tub beyond it. Slipping quietly past the door, he saw that the curtain was drawn, and again the shadowed figure lay behind it. One long, slim, leg dangled from the end of the tub, beads of water gliding down its length and off the polished toes. At the other end he saw a mass of auburn curls, matted deep red near the porcelain of the tub. It was the dream and the vision again, more real now, too strong to deny. Shaking, he moved toward the curtain, gagging on the sickly smell of rust and roses, feeling the thin nylon glide between thumb and palm as he pulled it back to reveal his darkest nightmare and deepest regret. He could see the crimson water now, blood bubbles gliding over its surface and clinging to the legs dangling over the tub‟s edge. When he‟d pulled the curtain completely away from the tub and around to its opposite side, he saw her face. Her eyes were closed and he saw that her lids were bruised and purple against the translucent paleness of her face, drained completely dead white under the makeup she‟d brushed on before she‟d died. Staggering by the sight of her, he knelt by the tub and extended one shaking hand to touch her cheek. It all seemed as if he‟d walked into a horror film and once again he needed to prove to his mind that this wasn‟t real. His hand shook as he lifted it nearer to her flesh, waiting for the corpse, the supposedly dead and buried to move. He touched his quivering fingers to her face, feeling its claylike reality. The sensation caused an immediate shudder of revulsion and he fought not to vomit. Even as the moment came, the sight of her moving in the water startled him and he jumped away from the tub. It wasn‟t an obvious movement at first, only soft breaths moving in and out of her nostrils, but then her chest rose and fell with it and he quaked, feeling unstable where he knelt on the floor.Her eyes opened next and he felt the blood fall out of his face, wanting to scream but too afraid he would cause her to take some action, to reach out and touch him, proving well and forever that he was indeed insane. Scream and you might as well slit your own throat. He swallowed the scream like a rock and stared as her eyes moved slowly in their sockets, locking on him. Slowly, as if she‟d lost control of her muscles, she rose from the tub and looked down at him, smiling. Blood water slid down her bare body, over her neck, down her back and the smooth ridges of her breasts, to slip slowly down her thighs and down over her calves. A puddle spread on the floor, and as it extended toward him he struggled to his feet, skittering away from it. As he watched it spread, he shivered, weak as he started to cry frantic, horrified tears. Breaking down, he looked back up at her face and slipped to the floor once more, his knees incapable of sustaining his own weight. The smile grew wider as she strode to his shivering form, thrown on his side and struggling to rise. The blood water seeped into his clothes, making him sick, a drop of it trickling along the lobe of his ear and into it. And then she leaned down, holding those dim, stained curls of auburn out of her face and tucking them behind her ear. Her lips parted, blue beneath the strong crimson red of her lipstick, and she spoke into his ear with the chill breath of the dead. His eyes grew wide and horrified as she spoke, the hair on his neck rising, sending a maddening shiver of fear through him. “I‟ve returned, Raven.” She whispered “And I want what is mine.” The last thing he saw before his mind, finally, thankfully, shut down was her face in front of his. They were pursed for a kiss.