Jesus waited three days to come back to life. 

It was perfect

 If he had only waited one day, a lot of people wouldn't have even heard he died. 

They'd be all, "Hey Jesus, what up?" and Jesus would probably be like, "What up? I died yesterday!" and they'd be all, "Uh, you look pretty alive to me, dude..." and then Jesus would have to explain how he was resurrected, and how it was a miracle, and the dude'd be like "Uhh okay, whatever you say, bro..." 

And he's not gonna come back on a Saturday. Everybody's busy, doing chores, workin' the loom, trimmin' the beard,

 NO. He waited the perfect number of days, three. 

Plus it's Sunday, so everyone's in church already, 

and they're all in there like "Oh no, Jesus is dead", and then BAM! He bursts in the back door, runnin' up the aisle, everyone's totally psyched, and FYI, that's when he invented the high five. 

Easter Poem (for John Cotton), by Ted Walker

I had gone on Easter Day
early and alone to be
beyond insidious bells
(that any other Sunday
I’d not hear) up to the hills
where are winds to blow away
 commination. 

In the frail
first light I saw him, unreal
and sudden through lifting mist,
a fox on a barn door, nailed
like a coloured plaster Christ
in a Spanish shrine, his tail coiled around his loins.

 Sideways
his head hung limply, his ears
snagged with burdock, his dry nose
plugged with black blood. 

For two days
he’d held the orthodox pose.

The endemic English noise of Easter Sunday morning
was mixed with the mist swirling
and might have moved his stiff head.

Under the hill the ringing
had begun. As the sun rose red
to press on seemed the best thing.

I walked the length of the day’s
obsession.

 At dusk I was
swallowed by the misted barn,
sucked by the peristalsis
of my fear that he had gone,
leaving nails for souvenirs.

But he was there still. I saw
no sign. He hung as before.
Only the wind had risen
to comb the thorns from his fur.

I left my superstition
stretched on the banging barn door.

 

So don't knock the guys on death row

Maybe they know something you don't

 

There was only one guy in the whole Bible Jesus ever personally promised a place with him in Paradise.

 Not Peter,

 not Paul, 

not any of those guys.

 He was a convicted thief, being executed. 

 

In religion people’s beliefs and convictions are  gotten at second-hand,

and without examination, 

from authorities who have not themselves examined the questions at issue 

but have taken them at second-hand from other non-examiners, 

whose opinions about them were not worth a thing 

 

Every faith in the world is based on fabrication. 

That is the definition of faith―

acceptance of that which we imagine to be true, that which we cannot prove. 

Every religion describes God through metaphor, allegory, and exaggeration, from the early Egyptians through modern Sunday school.

 Metaphors are a way to help our minds process the unprocessible. 

The problems arise when we begin to believe literally in our own metaphors.

 

Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities

 

The merest accident of microgeography had meant that the first man to hear the voice of Om, and who gave Om his view of humans, was a shepherd and not a goatherd. 

They have quite different ways of looking at the world, and the whole of history might have been different.

 For sheep are stupid, and have to be driven.

 But goats are intelligent, and need to be led.

 

Take the Kama Sutra. 

How many people died from the Kama Sutra as opposed to the Bible?

 Who wins?

Every day people are straying away from the church and going back to God

Good Friday

 

 

sing Hey diddle diddle 

The cat and the fiddle 

the pigs in the middle

are what a fine riddle

and haven't you heard 

That the cockatoo bird 

Would repeat a rude word 

Til the panther demurred 

and threatened to plaster 

it's peco disaster

come let us sing faster and faster and faster

Then Jack and Jill stumbled 

And down the hill tumbled 

my Cookie quite crumbled 

the elephant  mumbled 

with weeping and wailing 

it jumped off the railing 

and found it was sailing 

along and a-paling 

then cried The Mad hatter 

pay heed to my chatter 

come take this white platter 

and fry it in batter

my song is all sung 

to untangle your tongue

take the refrain

and sing it again 

Hannibal Lector

 We first meet the Hopkins version of Dr Lector in Silence with Clarice

 This is of course the third film based on the first book, so is that version of Will going to see him in the cell 

At this point Lector has been locked in the dungeon cell, away from the world and the sun, tormented for several years - if someone was not insane before anyone would be after that

 This is the Hopkins version, what he calls a cross between a Tarantula and a Crocodile 

With Mads in Hannibal we see him while he was still in society - this version is the sophisticated respected Doctor going round society who fits in and can disguise who he is

 This version of Hannibal turns into the Hopkins version after many years in the cell 

The Cox version is interesting as this was at the time only the first book was out and this was the first time Lector had been portrayed - as in the book there is this main intro scene and then there are a couple of others, Lector does not get much book or screen time 

The Cox Lector appears normal, which is what people note a psychopath is like in real life, which is why you can't tell them apart from a normal person

 

Fear prophets, 

and those prepared to die for the truth, 

for as a rule they make many others die with them,

 often before them,

 at times instead of them.

 

An atheist believes that a hospital should be built instead of a church.

An atheist believes that deed must be done instead of prayer said.

An atheist strives for involvement in life and not escape into death.

 
He wants disease conquered, poverty vanished, war eliminated 

 

Religion is for people who're afraid of going to hell. 

Spirituality is for those who've already been there

Casey at the Bat

 

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to the hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, "If only Casey could but get a whack at that—
We'd put up even money now, with Casey at the bat."

But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.

But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despisèd, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile lit Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt;
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped—
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one!" the umpire said.

From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;
But Casey still ignored it and the umpire said, "Strike two!"

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate,
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate;
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep

 

 

The poem itself acts as an extended metaphor for the conflict between desire and obligation.

 

The speaker stopped by the woods to observe the natural beauty and snowfall in the woods. He wanted to enjoy the calmness of the dark, deep, lovely woods.

 

The poem is often interpreted as conveying an attraction toward death, indicated in the final lines: 'The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep. ' Here, the woods and the 'sleep' to which the speaker refers represent death.

 

' taps on several themes such as life, death, commitment, pessimism vs optimism, and darkness. The main theme of this piece is the journey of life. It is present throughout the poem and highlighted in the last few lines.

 

The text of the poem reflects the thoughts of a lone wagon driver (the narrator), pausing at dusk in his travel to watch snow falling in the woods. It ends with him reminding himself that, despite the loveliness of the view, "I have promises to keep, / And miles to go before I sleep."

 

The speaker is stopping by some woods on a snowy evening. He or she takes in the lovely scene in near-silence, is tempted to stay longer, but acknowledges the pull of obligations and the considerable distance yet to be traveled before he or she can rest for the night.

 

The horse thinks it is "queer" or odd to stop in the middle of the woods because it seems his owner never does this. We know this because the speaker tells us that his "little" horse is used to stopping near farmhouses.

 

Hence, the phrase "miles to go before I sleep" means that the poet has a lot to achieve in life before death descends on him

 

Woods represent sensuous enjoyment (lovely), the darkness of ignorance (dark) as well as the dark inner self of man (deep). The last two lines mean that the poet Robert Frost has to fulfill his promises and has to travel a lot of distance before he can rest.

 

The speaker's thoughts and reflections on this "darkest evening" reflect his sense of isolation and contemplation in the midst of nature

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

 

Whose woods these are I think I know.   

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

 

A wise man never tries to warm himself in front of a painting of a fire.

 

A wolf that takes a peasant to supper probably won’t need any breakfast.

A truly wise man never plays leapfrog with a unicorn.

It’s harder for the spider to catch the fly, than for the fly to catch the horse.”

Only someone with nothing to be sorry about smiles at the rear of an elephant.”

“When the wolf is chasing your sleigh, toss him a raisin cookie but don’t stop to see if he eats it.”

If the butterfly has teeth like the tiger, he’d never make it out of the hangar.”

• 
  
• 
  
• “Though the hippopotamus has no stinger in his tail, the wise man would rather be sat on by the bee.”
• 
  
• “When an owl comes to a mouse picnic, it’s not there for the sack races.”
• 
  
• “No matter how warm the smile on the face of the sun, the cat still has her kittens under the porch.”
• 
  
• “The chicken that clucks the loudest is the one most likely to go to the Steamfitter’s Picnic.”
• 
  
• “A duck with three wings and a loaf of bread is brother to the turkey.
• 
  
• If your socks are not in your shoes, don’t look for them in Heaven.

• 
  

 

For those who believe, no proof is necessary. 

For those who don't believe, no proof is possible

Spring

 

Spring
stirs the clouds
in the sky's teabowl

Spring has come:
the nameless hill
lies shrouded in mist

The spring sea
rocks all day long:
rising and falling, ebbing and flowing ...

Ring out the bells again
Like we did when spring began

 

The significance of our lives and our fragile planet is then determined only by our own wisdom and courage.

 We are the custodians of life's meaning. 

We long for a Parent to care for us, to forgive us our errors, to save us from our childish mistakes.

 But knowledge is preferable to ignorance. 

Better by far to embrace the hard truth than a reassuring fable.

 If we crave some cosmic purpose, 

then let us find ourselves a worthy goal

 

Faith is the great cop-out, the great excuse to evade the need to think and evaluate evidence. 

Faith is the belief in spite of, even perhaps because of, the lack of evidence

 

The Bible tells us to be like God,

 and then on page after page it describes God as a mass murderer. 

 

Gravity explains the motions of the planets, 

but it cannot explain who sets the planets in motion

 

Saint Anthony said, in his solitude, he sometimes encountered devils who looked like angels, and other times he found angels who looked like devils. 

When asked how he could tell the difference, the saint said that you can only tell which is which by the way you feel after the creature has left your company.

 

if a god created the universe, 

the question itself makes no sense. 

Time didn’t exist before the big bang,

 so there is no time for god to make the universe in.

 It’s like asking directions to the edge of the earth; 

The Earth is a sphere; 

it doesn’t have an edge;

 so looking for it is a futile exercise. 

We are each free to believe what we want, 

 the simplest explanation is; there is no god. 

No one created our universe,and no one directs our fate.

There is probably no heaven, 

and no afterlife either. 

We have this one life to appreciate the grand design of the universe,

extremely grateful

 

Religion is still useful among the herd 

that it helps their orderly conduct as nothing else could. 

The crude human animal is in-eradicably superstitious, 

and there is every biological reason why they should be.

Take away his  god and saints, 

and he will worship something else..

 

People who cease to believe in God or goodness altogether still believe in the devil

 Evil is always possible

 goodness is eternally difficult.

All gods who receive homage are cruel

 

 All gods dispense suffering without reason. 

Otherwise they would not be worshipped. 

Through indiscriminate suffering men know fear and fear is the most divine emotion. 

It is the stones for altars and the beginning of wisdom.

 Half gods are worshipped in wine and flowers. 

Real gods require blood.