Good, Timocles; stick to invective; that is your strong point; once you get off that, he will hook and hold you up like a fish.
Well, put your questions, then; so much you score by your oath. But no abuse, please. Tell me, then, and be damned to you, do you deny that the Gods exercise providence? What do you mean by hounding them against me? They do not even protest in their own; they have sent no judgement on me, and they have had time enough to hear me, if they have ears. Pray when are they likely to have time to spare for me? They are far too busy, according to you, with all the infinite concerns of the universe on their hands.
That is why they have never punished you for your perjuries and — well, for the rest of your performances, let me say, not to break our compact about abuse. And yet I am at a loss to conceive any more convincing proof they could have given of their Providence, than if they had trounced you as you deserve. The answer I have been waiting for all this time; you can tell me what made you believe in divine Providence.
Firstly, the order of nature — the sun running his regular course, the moon the same, the circling seasons, the growth of plants, the generation of living things, the ingenious adaptations in these latter for nutrition, thought, movement, locomotion; look at a carpenter or a shoemaker, for instance; and the thing is infinite. All these effects, and no effecting Providence? You beg the question; whether the effects are produced by Providence is just what is not yet proved. Your description of nature I accept; it does not follow that there is definite design in it; it is not impossible that things now similar and homogeneous have developed from widely different origins.
And you will be very angry if one follows your appreciative catalogue of nature in all its variety, but stops short of accepting it as a proof of detailed Providence. So, as the play says,.
I cannot admit that further proof is required; nevertheless, I will give you one. Will you allow Homer to have been an admirable poet? Their object, of course, is not truth, but fascination; they call in the charms of metre, they take tales for the vehicle of what instruction they give, and in short all their efforts are directed to pleasure. But I should be glad to hear which parts of Homer you pin your faith to.
Where he tells how the daughter, the brother, and the wife of Zeus conspired to imprison him? If Thetis had not been moved to compassion and called Briareus, you remember, our excellent Zeus would have been seized and manacled; and his gratitude to her induced him to delude Agamemnon with a lying dream, and bring about the deaths of a number of Greeks. Do you see? Or perhaps you found the Diomede story most convincing? Or did you put your trust in Artemis?
Is it with tales like these that Homer has prevailed on you? Goodness me, what a shout, Gods! And our man seems posed; he is frightened and trembles; he is going to throw up the sponge, I am certain of it; he looks round for a gap to get away through. And will you scout Euripides too, then?
Again and again he brings Gods on the stage, and shows them upholding virtue in the Heroes, but chastising wickedness and impiety like yours.
My noble philosopher, if that is how the tragedians have convinced you, you have only two alternatives: you must suppose that divinity is temporarily lodged either in the actor — a Polus, an Aristodemus, a Satyrus —, or else in the actual masks, buskins, long tunics, cloaks, gloves, stomachers, padding, and ornamental paraphernalia in general of tragedy — a manifest absurdity; for when Euripides can speak his own sentiments unfettered by dramatic necessity, observe the freedom of his remarks:. Dost see this aether stretching infinite, And girdling earth with close yet soft embrace?
That reckon thou thy Zeus, that name thy God.
Well, but all men — ay, all nations — have acknowledged and, feted Gods; was it all delusion? Thank you; a timely reminder; national observances show better than anything else how vague religious theory is.
Apollo and the Pirates (Apollo's Monkey Tales Book 2) eBook: Lee Holland: zhestcountdisprestlec.ml: Kindle Store. Apollo and the Pirates is the second installment in the Apollo's Monkey Tales series. On the boat to France, Apollo encounters some trouble when he caught.
Confusion is endless, and beliefs as many as believers. In Egypt, though, besides the universal worship of water, Memphis has a private cult of the ox, Pelusium of the onion, other cities of the ibis or the crocodile, others again of baboon, cat, or monkey. Nay, the very villages have their specialities: one deifies the right shoulder, and another across the river the left; one a half skull, another an earthenware bowl or platter. Come, my fine fellow, is it not all ridiculous?
What did I tell you, Gods? All this was sure to come out and be carefully overhauled. You did, Momus, and your strictures were justified; if once we come safe out of this present peril, I will try to introduce reforms. About oracles, friend, the less said the better; I shall ask you to choose your instances, you see.
Carpetbaggers, The. Even if his classmates are trying to banish him to the outer realms, or worship him as a god. Izuku Midoriya, will redeem himself for something he should never be judged for. Traffic Jam. So viewers must draw the appropriate conclusions chiefly from the images on the screen; that is to say, they must pay close attention to what they are watching and hearing and interpret a film with the help of the visual and verbal clues which director, writer, editor, and cast provide through action and dialogue. Rumor, The.
That was as symmetrical as a double-edged knife; or say, it faced both ways, like those Hermae which are made double, alike whether you look at front or back. Tet the wretched Sardian paid a long price for his ambidextrous hexameter. The man is realizing just my worst apprehensions. Where is our handsome musician now? Ah, there you are; go down and plead your own cause against him.
Have a care, Damis; this is sacrilege, no less; what you say amounts to razing the temples and upsetting the altars. Oh, not all the altars; what harm do they do, so long as incense and perfume is the worst of it? Whence comes this resistless plague among us?
There is none of us he spares; he is as free with his tongue as a tub orator,. The innocent? You will not find many of those among us, Zeus. He will soon come to laying hands upon some of the great and eminent, I dare say. Travellers from Crete tell another story: there is a tomb there with an inscribed pillar, stating that Zeus is long dead, and not going to thunder anymore.
I could have told you that was coming long ago. What, Zeus? What is the matter? You should cheer up, and treat such manikins with lofty contempt. See what a number of them there is — how set against us they are already — and he has them fast by the ears. Well, but you have only to choose, and you can let down your golden cord, and then every man of them.
Well, then, the wind struck the canvas and filled the sails, and it or the oars gave you way, but there was a person responsible for steering and for the safety of the ship? Now that ship would not have sailed, without a steersman; and do you suppose that this great universe drifts unsteered and uncontrolled? But, you pattern of piety, the earthly navigator makes his plans, takes his measures, gives his orders, with a single eye to efficiency; there is nothing useless or purposeless on board; everything is to make navigation easy or possible; but as for the navigator for whom you claim the management of this vast ship, he and his crew show no reason or appropriateness in any of their arrangements; the forestays, as likely as not, are made fast to the stern, and both sheets to the bows; the anchor will be gold, the beak lead, decoration below the water-line, and unsightliness above.
As for the men, you will find some lazy awkward coward in second or third command, or a fine swimmer, active as a cat aloft, and a handyman generally, chosen out of all the rest to — pump. It is just the same with the passengers: here is a gaolbird accommodated with a seat next the captain and treated with reverence, there a debauchee or parricide or temple-robber in honourable possession of the best place, while crowds of respectable people are packed together in a corner and hustled by their real inferiors.
Consider what sort of a voyage Socrates and Aristides and Phocion had of it, on short rations, not venturing, for the filth, to stretch out their legs on the bare deck; and on the other hand what a comfortable, luxurious, contemptuous life it was for Callias or Midias or Sardanapalus.
That is how things go on board your ship, sir wiseacre; and who shall count the wrecks? If there had been a captain supervising and directing, in the first place he would have known the difference between good and bad passengers, and in the second he would have given them their deserts; the better would have had the better accommodation above by his side, and the worse gone below; with some of the better he would have shared his meals and his counsels.
Too probable, Momus. And Timocles never gets hold of an effective idea; he can only ladle out trite commonplaces higgledy-piggledy — no sooner heard than refuted. Well, well; my ship leaves you unconvinced; I must drop my sheet-anchor, then; that at least is unbreakable. See whether this is a sound syllogism; can you upset it?