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Persecution Quotes

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Persecution Quotes

“Father Brendan Flynn: "A woman was gossiping with her friend about a man whom they hardly knew - I know none of you have ever done this. That night, she had a dream: a great hand appeared over her and pointed down on her. She was immediately seized with an overwhelming sense of guilt. The next day she went to confession. She got the old parish priest, Father O' Rourke, and she told him the whole thing. 'Is gossiping a sin?' she asked the old man. 'Was that God All Mighty's hand pointing down at me? Should I ask for your absolution? Father, have I done something wrong?' 'Yes,' Father O' Rourke answered her. 'Yes, you ignorant, badly-brought-up female. You have blamed false witness on your neighbor. You played fast and loose with his reputation, and you should be heartily ashamed.' So, the woman said she was sorry, and asked for forgiveness. 'Not so fast,' says O' Rourke. 'I want you to go home, take a pillow upon your roof, cut it open with a knife, and return here to me.' So, the woman went home: took a pillow off her bed, a knife from the drawer, went up the fire escape to her roof, and stabbed the pillow. Then she went back to the old parish priest as instructed. 'Did you gut the pillow with a knife?' he says. 'Yes, Father.' 'And what were the results?' 'Feathers,' she said. 'Feathers?' he repeated. 'Feathers; everywhere, Father.' 'Now I want you to go back and gather up every last feather that flew out onto the wind,' 'Well,' she said, 'it can't be done. I don't know where they went. The wind took them all over.' 'And that,' said Father O' Rourke, 'is gossip!”

“Stephen, listen, I hate what I'm going to say, but by God, it's got to be said to you somehow! You're courageous and fine and you mean to make good, but life with you is spiritually murdering Mary. Can't you see it? Can't you realize that she needs all the things that it's not in your power to give her? Children, protection, friends whom she can respect and who'll respect her—don't you realize this, Stephen? A few may survive such relationships as yours, but Mary Llewellyn won't be among them. She's not strong enough to fight the whole world, to stand up against persecution and insult; it will drive her down, begun to already—already she's been forced to turn to people like Wanda. I know what I'm saying, I've seen the thing—the bars, the drinking, the pitiful defiance, the horrible, useless wastage of lives—well, I tell you it's spiritual murder for Mary.”

“Nothing will ever equal that moment of joyous excitement which filled my whole being when I felt myself flying away from the earth. It was not mere pleasure; it was perfect bliss. Escaped from the frightful torments of persecution and of calumny, I felt that I was answering all in rising above all. [Said after making man's first ascent by hydrogen balloon in 1783]”

“Considering he was neither priest nor scholar, the young man gave sensible, thoughtful replies -- the more so, perhaps, for being untrained, for he had not learned what he should believe or should not believe. Present a statement to him in flagrant contradiction to all Christian doctrine and he could be persuaded to agree on its good sense, unless he remembered it was the sort of thing of which pyres are made for the incautious.”

“As long as she lived Stephen never forgot her first impressions of the bar known as Alec's—that meeting-place of the most miserable of all those who comprised the miserable army. That merciless, drug-dealing, death-dealing haunt to which flocked the battered remnants of men whom their fellow-men had at last stamped under; who, despised of the world, must despise themselves beyond all hope, it seemed, of salvation. There they sat, closely herded together at the tables, creatures shabby yet tawdry, timid yet defiant—and their eyes, Stephen never forgot their eyes, those haunted, tormented eyes of the invert. Of all ages, all degrees of despondency, all grades of mental and physical ill-being, they must yet laugh shrilly from time to time, must yet tap their feet to the rhythm of music, must yet dance together in response to the band—and that dance seemed the Dance of Death to Stephen. On more than one hand was a large, ornate ring, on more than one wrist a conspicuous bracelet; they wore jewellery that might only be worn by these men when they thus gathered together. At Alec's they could dare to give way to such tastes—what was left of themselves they became at Alec's. Bereft of all social dignity, of all social charts contrived for man's guidance, of the fellowship that by right divine should belong to each breathing, living creature; abhorred, spat upon, from their earliest days the prey to a ceaseless persecution, they were now even lower than their enemies knew, and more hopeless than the veriest dregs of creation. For since all that to many of them had seemed fine, a fine selfless and at times even noble emotion, had been covered with shame, called unholy and vile, so gradually they themselves had sunk down to the level upon which the world placed their emotions. And looking with abhorrence upon these men, drink-sodden, doped as were only too many, Stephen yet felt that some terrifying thing stalked abroad in that unhappy room at Alec's; terrifying because if there were a God His anger must rise at such vast injustice. More pitiful even than her lot was theirs, and because of them mighty should be the world's reckoning.”

“Lakini damu na maji vina maana kubwa katika maisha yetu. Biblia inaeleza kuwa wakati Yesu Kristo akiwa msalabani alichomwa ubavu wake kwa mkuki, ikatoka damu na maji, ndipo zilipozaliwa sakramenti za kanisa. Aidha, tukio la askari wa Kirumi kumchoma Yesu na damu na maji kutoka lina maana nyingine kubwa katika maisha yetu. Hapo ndipo Ukristo ulipozaliwa; na ni kwa sababu hiyo mwanamke anapojifungua hutoa damu na maji kutokana na kupasuka kwa utando wa mfuko wa uzazi. Kutokana na hayo, Wakristo wanapoabudu msalaba wanaeleza umuhimu wa matukio na mafundisho waliyopata kupitia mateso aliyopata kiongozi wao na kuwa, msalaba ni chombo cha ukombozi.”

“Any religion-based state has a mission to limit the minds of its people, to fight the developments of history and logic, and to dumb down its citizens. It’s important to stand in the way of such a mentality, to deny it from continuing its mission to murder the souls of its people, killing them deep within while they are still alive and breathing.”

“No King, No Flag (Naskaristana 2720) No king, no flag, no scripture, above the human. No empire, no doctrine, no executive, above the human. No costume, no convention, no ecclesia, above the human. No faith, no reason, no paradigm, above the human. No collar, no creed, no custom, above the human. No gender, no orientation, no normal, above the human. No algorithm, no con, no plagiarism, above the human. No DSM, diagnosis, or hollow Declaration, above the human. No mosque, no museum, no temple, above the human. No Rome, no Reich, no Zion, above the human. No ally, no axis, no mock history, above the human. No passport, no piety, no Promise, above the human. Human constructs must enhance humanity, not cripple it. Moment a construct turns against the spirit of humanity, it must be repaired or rejected to prevent further malice.”

“Yabancı Yarim (Sonnet 2701) Yabancı olarak doğmak ayıp değil, ama yabancı olarak ölmek en büyük lanettir. To be born as foreigner is normal, but to die as foreigner is animal. To salute the flag is just as animal as burning a flag, to obey the scripture blind is just as savage as burning a scripture. Delegational democracy is just as undignified as autocracy, blind abidance of law is just as primitive as anarchy. I look after the world as family, so the world may look after my family, when I'm not there - that's the kind of blind faith that actually makes a difference. To curse is animal, to console, human. If you must be blind, be blind in tolerance.”

“Most of the world's geniuses are non-whites, not because it's genetic, but because, like white people inherit blonde hair and blue eyes, or daddy's emeralds, we inherit generational persecution, and any brain forced to endure persecution as daily chore, becomes a powerhouse of apparently supernatural mental faculties.”

“Time to Cancel 4th of July (Sonnet) If it takes just one election to reverse hundreds of years of social progress, then that society never progressed in the first place. There's no point in celebrating 4th of July, when we're ever regressing to persecution days. On the outside we've made tremendous strides, we have been to the moon and back, yet the glossiest of land reeks of lunacy, when we nationalize prejudice as gallant. America is abomination of everything free and brave, where persecution is law, intolerance is religion. To overcome hate some day, we gotta stand human today; Dream of the King is the Dream of Civilization. We have no cause for celebration, if anything, we gotta re-examine the legitimacy of 4th of July. When boneheaded egomaniacs make a joke of liberty, revolution is our first amendment, mutiny our right.”

“The Drunken Polyglot (Sonnet 2300) I never hankered for booze or drugs, you know why - because I'm already drunk, with the most hard-hitting, brain-altering contraband in history - I'm ever consumed with languages and cultures. Latin Passion, Turkish Woundlight, Nordic Thunder, Celtic Wonder, Afro Grit, American Ambition, Arabian Adamance, Chinese Ingenuity, Indian Nonduality - like rivers running eager to meet in sea, cultures converged to bring me to life. I am vast beyond the spell of tribe, I am the ruin of all resurging reich. Call it Reich, Empire or Uncle Sam - Zionist State or Hindu Rashtra - Animal Kingdoms are found everywhere, still, reason is to reichs what phenyl is to floor.”

“The Negro had never really been patient in the pure sense of the word. The posture of silent waiting was forced upon him psychologically because he was shackled physically. In the days of slavery, this suppression was openly, scientifically and consistently applied. Sheer physical force kept the Negro captive at every point. He was prevented from learning to read and write, prevented by laws actually inscribed in the statute books. He was forbidden to associate with other Negroes living on the same plantation, except when weddings or funerals took place. Punishment for any form of resistance or complaint about his condition could range from mutilation to death. Families were torn apart, friends separated, cooperation to improve their condition carefully thwarted. Fathers and mothers were sold from their children and children were bargained away from their parents. Young girls were, in many cases, sold to become the breeders of fresh generations of slaves. The slaveholders of America had devised with almost scientific precision their systems for keeping the Negro defenseless, emotionally and physically. With the ending of physical slavery after the Civil War, new devices were found to "keep the Negro in his place." It would take volumes to describe these methods, extending from birth in jim-crow hospitals through burial in jim-crow sections of cemeteries. They are too well known to require a catalogue here. Yet one of the revelations during the past few years is the fact that the straitjackets of race prejudice and discrimination do not wear only southern labels. The subtle, psychological technique of the North has approached in its ugliness and victimization of the Negro the outright terror and open brutality of the South. The result has been a demeanor that passed for patience in the eyes of the white man, but covered a powerful impatience in the heart of the Negro.”

“Long before it was known to me as a place where my ancestry was even remotely involved, the idea of a state for Jews (or a Jewish state; not quite the same thing, as I failed at first to see) had been 'sold' to me as an essentially secular and democratic one. The idea was a haven for the persecuted and the survivors, a democracy in a region where the idea was poorly understood, and a place where—as Philip Roth had put it in a one-handed novel that I read when I was about nineteen—even the traffic cops and soldiers were Jews. This, like the other emphases of that novel, I could grasp. Indeed, my first visit was sponsored by a group in London called the Friends of Israel. They offered to pay my expenses, that is, if on my return I would come and speak to one of their meetings. I still haven't submitted that expenses claim. The misgivings I had were of two types, both of them ineradicable. The first and the simplest was the encounter with everyday injustice: by all means the traffic cops were Jews but so, it turned out, were the colonists and ethnic cleansers and even the torturers. It was Jewish leftist friends who insisted that I go and see towns and villages under occupation, and sit down with Palestinian Arabs who were living under house arrest—if they were lucky—or who were squatting in the ruins of their demolished homes if they were less fortunate. In Ramallah I spent the day with the beguiling Raimonda Tawil, confined to her home for committing no known crime save that of expressing her opinions. (For some reason, what I most remember is a sudden exclamation from her very restrained and respectable husband, a manager of the local bank: 'I would prefer living under a Bedouin muktar to another day of Israeli rule!' He had obviously spent some time thinking about the most revolting possible Arab alternative.) In Jerusalem I visited the Tutungi family, who could produce title deeds going back generations but who were being evicted from their apartment in the old city to make way for an expansion of the Jewish quarter. Jerusalem: that place of blood since remote antiquity. Jerusalem, over which the British and French and Russians had fought a foul war in the Crimea, and in the mid-nineteenth century, on the matter of which Christian Church could command the keys to some 'holy sepulcher.' Jerusalem, where the anti-Semite Balfour had tried to bribe the Jews with the territory of another people in order to seduce them from Bolshevism and continue the diplomacy of the Great War. Jerusalem: that pest-house in whose environs all zealots hope that an even greater and final war can be provoked. It certainly made a warped appeal to my sense of history.”

“Neighbor Before Nation (Sonnet 2201) Death of soldiers is PR goldmine for nationalist nutters, no matter the side, because it gives them the appetizing ammunition to sell some more fear, some more prejudice, some more fanatic tribalism, neighbor fighting neighbor, all wrapped in cute pills of patriotism - which ultimately manufactures some more orphans, some more widows, some more elderly who lose their hope. Trenches don't have a right side and wrong side, they only have one side, the side of dogma and lies. Asses to asses, cheek to cheek, apes laud the apes, declaring true apehood through their half-open flies.”