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kel_ameen

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Re: Why the Atheist doesn't exist
« Reply #15 on: May 10, 2012, 09:11:00 PM »

Religion is for the feeble, the weak, the sheep. For those who cannot find their own way.  It, by itself, gives reason for survival of the fittest.
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sammy

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Re: Why the Atheist doesn't exist
« Reply #16 on: May 10, 2012, 09:31:35 PM »

Religion is for the feeble, the weak, the sheep. For those who cannot find their own way.  It, by itself, gives reason for survival of the fittest.
We-all, the feeble, the weak, the sheep, are so grateful that you , in your infinite wisdom, have been  able to find  so many wise people  to Quote. You got anything to say on your own?
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Farmer.Ted

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Re: Why the Atheist doesn't exist
« Reply #17 on: May 10, 2012, 09:34:54 PM »

kel_ameen ... You should know better than to anger the ghosts..  Don't you know that the Southern ghosts will rise again, slay the northern ghosts, then finally be slaughtered by the ghosts of the ancient native tribal warriors?
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sammy

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Re: Why the Atheist doesn't exist
« Reply #18 on: May 10, 2012, 09:36:32 PM »

kel_ameen ... You should know better than to anger the ghosts..  Don't you know that the Southern ghosts will rise again, slay the northern ghosts, then finally be slaughtered by the ghosts of the ancient native tribal warriors?
LOL!
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christfollower

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Re: Why the Atheist doesn't exist
« Reply #19 on: May 10, 2012, 10:17:20 PM »

Religion is for the feeble, the weak, the sheep. For those who cannot find their own way.  It, by itself, gives reason for survival of the fittest.

"Religion" only changes an individual from the outside, while inside most people who follow just "religion" are masking their transgressions so man cannot see the hypocrisy in their heart.

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world (James 1:27 niv)

An individual who develops a personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ will change from the inside, out!

Thanks to God I no longer need to find my own way, because I found that my own way was leading to death and destruction not only here on earth but also for eternity! I Praise God that I am no longer the man I once was! You can call me week, and feeble, but my God calls me Victorious, and more than a conqueror, a Holy Priesthood! Be Blessed
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IN GOD WE TRUST

MonroeMonkey

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Re: Why the Atheist doesn't exist
« Reply #20 on: May 10, 2012, 10:56:14 PM »

I'd think such an intelligent atheist would know spamming forums isn't appreciated by anyone. A zealous attempt to antagonize doesn't come across as intelligent either...
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ussoccer26

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Re: Why the Atheist doesn't exist
« Reply #21 on: May 10, 2012, 11:15:55 PM »

I'd think such an intelligent atheist would know spamming forums isn't appreciated by anyone. A zealous attempt to antagonize doesn't come across as intelligent either...
Agreed.
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Dependence begets subservience and venality, suffocates the germ of virtue, and prepares fit tools for the designs of ambition.

kel_ameen

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Re: Why the Atheist doesn't exist
« Reply #22 on: May 12, 2012, 11:42:31 AM »

   
 Once I am sure there's nothing going on

I step inside, letting the door thud shut.

Another church: matting, seats, and stone,

And little books; sprawlings of flowers, cut

For Sunday, brownish now; some brass and stuff

Up at the holy end; the small neat organ;

And a tense, musty, unignorable silence,

Brewed God knows how long. Hatless, I take off

My cycle-clips in awkward reverence,

Move forward, run my hand around the font.

From where I stand, the roof looks almost new-

Cleaned or restored? Someone would know: I don't.

Mounting the lectern, I peruse a few

Hectoring large-scale verses, and pronounce

"Here endeth" much more loudly than I'd meant.

The echoes snigger briefly. Back at the door

I sign the book, donate an Irish sixpence,

Reflect the place was not worth stopping for.Yet stop I did: in fact I often do,

And always end much at a loss like this,

Wondering what to look for; wondering, too,

When churches fall completely out of use

What we shall turn them into, if we shall keep

A few cathedrals chronically on show,

Their parchment, plate, and pyx in locked cases,

And let the rest rent-free to rain and sheep.

Shall we avoid them as unlucky places?Or, after dark, will dubious women come

To make their children touch a particular stone;

Pick simples for a cancer; or on some

Advised night see walking a dead one?

Power of some sort or other will go on

In games, in riddles, seemingly at random;

But superstition, like belief, must die,

And what remains when disbelief has gone?

Grass, weedy pavement, brambles, buttress, sky,A shape less recognizable each week,

A purpose more obscure. I wonder who

Will be the last, the very last, to seek

This place for what it was; one of the crew

That tap and jot and know what rood-lofts were?

Some ruin-bibber, randy for antique,

Or Christmas-addict, counting on a whiff

Of gown-and-bands and organ-pipes and myrrh?

Or will he be my representative,Bored, uninformed, knowing the ghostly silt

Dispersed, yet tending to this cross of ground

Through suburb scrub because it held unspilt

So long and equably what since is found

Only in separation -- marriage, and birth,

And death, and thoughts of these -- for whom was built

This special shell? For, though I've no idea

What this accoutred frowsty barn is worth,

It pleases me to stand in silence here;A serious house on serious earth it is,

In whose blent air all our compulsions meet,

Are recognised, and robed as destinies.

And that much never can be obsolete,

Since someone will forever be surprising

A hunger in himself to be more serious,

And gravitating with it to this ground,

Which, he once heard, was proper to grow wise in,

If only that so many dead lie round.
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