Join us to read "The Clouds" by Aristophanes, even if you missed "The Birds" last week! William James Hickie translation available on Gutenberg. Login on Thursday, July 24 at: https://us06web.zoom.us/j/85319919944?pwd=sqhCAg0K9Rbup3DoFINzduyuaOIqPQ.1
“Of Our Spiritual Strivings”
“Of the Dawn of Freedom”
“Of Mr. Booker T. Washington and Others”
“Of the Meaning of Progress”
“Of the Wings of Atalanta”
"Of the Training of Black Men"
"Of the Black Belt"
"Of the Quest of the Golden Fleece"
"Of the Sons of Master and Man"
"Of the Faith of the Fathers"
"Of the Passing of the First-Born"
"Of Alexander Crummell"
"Of the Coming of John"
"The Sorrow Songs"
"Then Peter, filled with the holy Spirit, answered them, “Leaders of the people and elders. If we are being examined today about a good deed done to a cripple, namely, by what means he was saved, then all of you and all the people of Israel should know that it was in the name of Jesus Christ the Nazorean whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead; in his name this man stands before you healed. He is ‘the stone rejected by you, the builders, which has become the cornerstone.’ There is no salvation through anyone else, nor is there any other name under heaven given to the human race by which we are to be saved.”"
"Yes, indeed, but that was no answer to the question: nobody asked what was the quality, but what was the nature, of the art, and by what name we were to describe Gorgias. And I would still beg you briefly and clearly, as you answered Chaerephon when he asked you at first, to say what this art is, and what we ought to call Gorgias: Or rather, Gorgias, let me turn to you, and ask the same question,—what are we to call you, and what is the art which you profess?"
This is the air; that is the glorious sun;
This pearl she gave me, I do feel’t and see’t;
And though ‘tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
Yet ‘tis not madness. Where’s Antonio, then?
I could not find him at the Elephant:
Yet there he was; and there I found this credit,
That he did range the town to seek me out.
This is the air; that is the glorious sun;
This pearl she gave me, I do feel’t and see’t;
And though ‘tis wonder that enwraps me thus,
Yet ‘tis not madness. Where’s Antonio, then?
I could not find him at the Elephant:
Yet there he was; and there I found this credit,
That he did range the town to seek me out.
“Many of us will also find it hard to abandon our belief that in man himself there dwells an impulse towards perfection, which has brought him to his present heights of intellectual prowess and ethical sublimation, and from which it might be expected that his development into superman will be ensured. But I do not believe in the existence of such an inner impulse, and I see no way of preserving this pleasing illusion."
“Many of us will also find it hard to abandon our belief that in man himself there dwells an impulse towards perfection, which has brought him to his present heights of intellectual prowess and ethical sublimation, and from which it might be expected that his development into superman will be ensured. But I do not believe in the existence of such an inner impulse, and I see no way of preserving this pleasing illusion."
Once upon a time there was a dear little girl who was loved by everyone who looked at her, but most of all by her grandmother, and there was nothing that she would not have given to the child.
THIS is the story of the great war that Rikki-tikki-tavi fought single-handed, through the bathrooms of the big bungalow in Segowlee cantonment. Darzee, the tailor-bird, helped him, and Chuchundra, the musk-rat, who never comes out into the middle of the floor, but always creeps round by the wall, gave him advice; but Rikki-tikki did the real fighting.