day quotes

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March 25th 1811: Shelley expelled from Oxford

On this day in 1811, Percy Bysshe Shelley was expelled from the University of Oxford for publishing a pamphlet entitled ‘The Necessity of Atheism’. Shelley is best known as a famous English poet, who was part of a group of fellow prominent writers including his wife Mary Shelley and Lord Byron. As well as being as being an author, Shelley was a radical political activist who advocated non-violent protest. Having begun study at Oxford in 1810, it is often said that he only attended one lecture during his time there. He published several works whilst at university, but it was his atheistic pamphlet which led to his appearance before the College fellows and his eventual expulsion as he refused to deny authorship. ‘The Necessity of Atheism’ argued that people do not choose their beliefs and thus atheists shouldn’t be persecuted. However it is unclear whether Shelley was personally an atheist; he may have instead been an agnostic or a pantheist. Either way, this document is an interesting insight into Shelley’s views and shows how atheism was stigmatised in the early nineteenth century.

“Truth has always been found to promote the best interests of mankind. Every reflecting mind must allow that there is no proof of the existence of a Deity”

6

“I must have dropped it, in all the excitement,” I said. “Just as well; I’ve no idea what to do with it. I’d likely have stabbed myself if I’d tried to use it.” 

Ned eyed Jamie censoriously over his half-spectacles. 

“Ye gave her a knife and didn’t teach her to use it?” 

“There wasna time, under the circumstances,” Jamie defended himself. “But Ned’s right, Sassenach. Ye should learn how to handle arms. There’s no tellin’ what may happen on the road, as ye saw last night.”

So I was marched out into the center of a clearing and the lessons began. Seeing the activity, several of the MacKenzie men came by to investigate, and stayed to offer advice. In no time, I had half a dozen instructors, all arguing the fine points of technique. After a good deal of amiable discussion, they agreed that Rupert was likely the best among them at dirks, and he took over the lesson. 

He found a reasonably flat spot, free of rocks and pine cones, in which to demonstrate the art of dagger-wielding.

“Look, lass,” he said. He held the dagger balanced on his middle finger, resting an inch or so below the haft. “The balance point, that’s where ye want to hold it, so it fits comfortable in yer hand.” I tried it with my dagger. When I had it comfortably fitted, he showed me the difference between an overhand strike and an underhanded stab

“Generally, ye want to use the underhand; overhand is only good when ye’re comin’ down on someone wi’ a considerable force from above.” He eyed me speculatively, then shook his head. 

“Nay, you’re tall for a woman, but even if ye could reach as high as the neck, ye wouldna have the force to penetrate, unless he’s sittin’. Best stick to underhand.” He pulled up his shirt, revealing a substantial furry paunch, already glistening with sweat. 

“Now, here,” he said, pointing to the center, just under the breastbone, “is the spot to aim for, if ye’re killin’ face to face. Aim straight up and in, as hard as ye can. That’ll go into the heart, and it kills wi’in a minute or two. The only problem is to avoid the breastbone; it goes down lower than ye think, and if ye get yer knife stuck in that soft bit on the tip, it will hardly harm yer victim at all, but ye’ll be wi’out a knife, and he’ll ha’ you. Murtagh! Ye ha’ a skinny back; come ’ere and we’ll show the lass how to stick from the back.” Spinning a reluctant Murtagh around, he yanked up the grubby shirt to show a knobbly spine and prominent ribs. He poked a blunt forefinger under the lower rib on the right, making Murtagh squeak in surprise.

“This is the spot in back— either side. See, wi’ all the ribs and such, ’tis verra difficult to hit anythin’ vital when ye stab in the back. If ye can slip the knife between the ribs, that’s one thing, but that’s harder to do than ye might think. But here, under the last rib, ye stab upward into the kidney. Get him straight up, and hell drop like a stone.” 

Rupert then set me to try stabbing in various positions and postures. As he grew winded, all the men took it in turns to act as victim, obviously finding my efforts hilarious. They obligingly lay on the grass or turned their backs so I could ambush them, or leaped at me from behind, or pretended to choke me so I could try to stab them in the belly. 

The spectators urged me on with cries of encouragement, and Rupert instructed me firmly not to pull back at the last moment. 

“Thrust as though ye meant it, lass,” he said. “Ye canna pull back if it’s in earnest. And if any o’ these laggards canna get themselves out of the way in time, they deserve what they get.”

I was timid and extremely clumsy at first, but Rupert was a good teacher, very patient and good about demonstrating moves, over and over. He rolled his eyes in mock lewdness when he moved behind me and put his arm about my waist, but he was quite businesslike about taking hold of my wrist to show me the way of ripping an enemy across the eyes. 

Dougal sat under a tree, minding his wounded arm and making sardonic comments on the training as it progressed. It was he, though, who suggested the dummy. 

“Give her something she can sink her dirk into,” he said, when I had begun to show some facility at lunging and jabbing. “It’s a shock, the first time.

Ephemeron

Noun

[ih-fem-uh-ron, -er-uh n] 

1. anything short-lived or ephemeral.

2. ephemera, items designed to be useful or important for only a short time, especially pamphlets, notices, tickets, etc.

Origin:
1570-1580; Ephemeron is from Greek, from ephemeros, “daily; lasting or living only a day,” from epi, “upon” + hemera, “day.”

“The Sanskrit word for the world is jagati, while the word for changing or evanescent is jagat : the world’s evanescent nature is actually built into the very definition of “world.” Yet behind this shimmering ephemeron lies the deeper, sacred reality – Brahman, the infinite, transcendent reality that covers and pervades all things.”
- Pravrajika Vrajaprana, Cross Currents

I GOT A NEW PACK OF ART SUPPLIES AND A NEW NOTEBOOK. GUESS WHO THE FIRST 5 I DREW ON IT WAS~?? 8) <3

Well technically I I did a LawMari thing on the first page >//////< like a short comic T////T but it got messed up cuz i decided to color my new markers right on the back of it x//////////x --BAD MISTAKE–

So anyways– first 5 I drew on it WAS!!!!

MEEE <3
– i’m not doing this in order HAHAHAH oh oops my hair’s supposed to be red ewe –

LAWLESS OFC [FOR MY OWN SATISFACTION *COUGHS*] <3
[ me trying so hard to draw his hawtness x////////x;; *sweats* I COULDN’T EVEN DRAW HIS ARMS *SOBS* NEXT TIME BBY, NEXT TIME X/////////X ]

LICH-TAN FOR WIFEYYYY <3
[ Good luck to your studiessss~!! <3 I AM SO SORRY FOR THE ARMS I’M EMBARRASSED WHEN I LOOK AT IT AGAIN ;//////////; THE SHOULDERS TOO OMG… ]

MAHIRU FOR NAHIII~!! <3
[ OHH HOW I HAD FUN WITH THIS. EVERYONE CAN TELL X//////X It’s always fun drawing Mahiru!! x//////x <3 I messed the colors up on his pants, so i blocked it off, even though i was proud of drawing legs for once ;w; it was too bad </3 –FRICKKK MEE– ]

Situation-ish:
He finally got his role as a prince! <3 Ever since he was little, he was appointed as a tree. Not that he didn’t mind since his classmates needed a replacements for the role as a tree…. he was glad he could help. Not to mention, Kuro was always watching him cheering him on, so MahiMahi would always get excited to play as the tree waving his tree branches towards Kuro, trying to get his attention even though the only one Kuro looks at is Little Mahiru ;D <3 <3 x/////x <3

AND LASTLY, KUROO~!!! <3
[ IDK WHAT TO SAY ABOUT THIS EXCEPT *FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTSSSS* ]

KAY BYE. LOL.

*EDITS FOR THE 100TH TIME DUE TO POSTING DIFFICULTIES*

THANK YOU @lawlicht4eva MY ONE-AND-ONLY– *INSERTS MORE NAMES THAT I WANNA KEEP TO MYSELF ;D <3 <3 * and @nahiishirota MAHH BESTIIEEE <33 FOR ALL THE SUPPORT WHILE I WAS DRAWING THEM >///////< <3 IT WAS FUN ASKFJHASKJFH <3

and have you ever felt for anything
such wild love–
do you think there is anywhere, in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure

that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you

as you stand there,
empty-handed–
—  Mary Oliver, ‘The Sun’