If there is no God, everything is permitted.

If you were to destroy the belief in immortality in mankind, not only love but every living force on which the continuation of all life in the world depended, would dry up at once.
Fyodor Dostoevsky


8 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Sherry
    Jul 21, 2011 @ 18:16:07

    Yeah, everything would be permitted including others trampling all over us. We could trample on others, too, but that’s only fun for a very short time. Unless there’s no conscience…

    Deep, Kim, deep~


    • Kim
      Jul 21, 2011 @ 18:22:05

      It has been that sort of day for me, Sherry. Lots of pondering going on and not a lot of productive action.

      A funk I think



  2. Kim
    Jul 21, 2011 @ 18:29:33

    Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid.
    Fyodor Dostoevsky


  3. Kim
    Jul 21, 2011 @ 18:38:31

    The Tear by Lord Byron
    When Friendship or Love
    Our sympathies move;
    When Truth, in a glance, should appear,
    The lips may beguile,
    With a dimple or smile,
    But the test of affection’s a Tear:

    Too oft is a smile
    But the hypocrite’s wile,
    To mask detestation, or fear;
    Give me the soft sigh,
    Whilst the soultelling eye
    Is dimm’d, for a time, with a Tear:

    Mild Charity’s glow,
    To us mortals below,
    Shows the soul from barbarity clear;
    Compassion will melt,
    Where this virtue is felt,
    And its dew is diffused in a Tear:

    The man, doom’d to sail
    With the blast of the gale,
    Through billows Atlantic to steer,
    As he bends o’er the wave
    Which may soon be his grave,
    The green sparkles bright with a Tear;

    The Soldier braves death
    For a fanciful wreath
    In Glory’s romantic career;
    But he raises the foe
    When in battle laid low,
    And bathes every wound with a Tear.

    If, with high-bounding pride,
    He return to his bride!
    Renouncing the gore-crimson’d spear;
    All his toils are repaid
    When, embracing the maid,
    From her eyelid he kisses the Tear.

    Sweet scene of my youth!
    Seat of Friendship and Truth,
    Where Love chas’d each fast-fleeting year
    Loth to leave thee, I mourn’d,
    For a last look I turn’d,
    But thy spire was scarce seen through a Tear:

    Though my vows I can pour,
    To my Mary no more,
    My Mary, to Love once so dear,
    In the shade of her bow’r,
    I remember the hour,
    She rewarded those vows with a Tear.

    By another possest,
    May she live ever blest!
    Her name still my heart must revere:
    With a sigh I resign,
    What I once thought was mine,
    And forgive her deceit with a Tear.

    Ye friends of my heart,
    Ere from you I depart,
    This hope to my breast is most near:
    If again we shall meet,
    In this rural retreat,
    May we meet, as we part, with a Tear.

    When my soul wings her flight
    To the regions of night,
    And my corse shall recline on its bier;
    As ye pass by the tomb,
    Where my ashes consume,
    Oh! moisten their dust with a Tear.


  4. andrea
    Jul 21, 2011 @ 19:04:46

    I think he wrote that poem about a dear friend of his, Percy Byshe Shelly (husband to Mary Shelly who wrote Frankenstein) who drowned.


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