People say that out of these comes no good but only evil. As a example in the next town over there is a man that has been protesting since 1990, when his son died in police custody under suspicious circumstances. Finally after 24 years the provincial government is reopenning the case. Thinking about it is amazing how anger can drive through terror and desperation to amazing things. Anger in the hands of some brings justice whilst in others it brings slaughter.
People say the same of hate. Do not hate but love all. While a noble idea how should one love someone that oppresses women and thinks those of a different skin color are inferior? What of those who look at a gay couple and say they are a abomination? Or those that believe gods justice is metered out in a serial killers sexual fantasy, also called hell?
I suppose there I should steal the Christian axiom and say "Love the sinner not the sin." Anyhow I am by no means an authority, just thought I'd share some food for thought.
People say the same of hate. Do not hate but love all. While a noble idea how should one love someone that oppresses women and thinks those of a different skin color are inferior? What of those who look at a gay couple and say they are a abomination? Or those that believe gods justice is metered out in a serial killers sexual fantasy, also called hell?
I suppose there I should steal the Christian axiom and say "Love the sinner not the sin." Anyhow I am by no means an authority, just thought I'd share some food for thought.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
