If God is so merciful, then why did Jesus have to be sacrificed?

[Walker]

- Ugliness, Falseness, Fatness, Boredom etc. do not describe the urn.

What if I happen to think the urn is ugly and I'm bored with it?
Then write your own poem.

- Ugliness, Falseness, Fatness, Boredom etc. are not ever-present.

Then neither is beauty.
The urn exists, thus the urn is ever-present, and the urn is beautiful as described earlier in the poem.

- Other than the beauty of the urn, only truth does not change.

Truth in general or truth about something in particular.
To be discerned like the urn, truth is in every particular.

- Other than the beauty of the urn, only truth is ever-present.

What on earth does that mean?
Exactly what it says.

BTW Harbal, thanks for some actual edges, an obviously needed break from the soft mush.

[Harbal]

What on earth does that mean?

Exactly what it says.

I seriously doubt that you could write anything meaningful, even if your life depended on it, Walker.

[uwot]

So doc, you promise us this:

...it's the part where false statements are called, and the fireworks start.

Which turns out to be this:

There is certainly no shortage of fools on this forum to argue with.

Frankly, I don't see that a brand of Christianity which condones this sort of mindless bluster and contempt for others, is anything worth aspiring to. For all the good that Christianity may have produced, you and Mr Can are debasing it, by using Christ's name as a license to be stupid and rude.

[Walker]

Well I tell you what, Harbal.

If I ever want your opinion about anything ...
I'll give a little squeeze and we'll see what else you manage to crap out.

Otherwise, since you are not your thoughts,
Neither am I your thoughts.

[Harbal]

Well I tell you what, Harbal.

That's all very well, Walker, but would I understand what you were telling me?

Where can I see a picture of this beautiful urn you're talking about? Let's see how beautiful it really is.

[Walker]

Well I tell you what, Harbal.

That's all very well, Walker, but would I understand what you were telling me?

Where can I see a picture of this beautiful urn you're talking about? Let's see how beautiful it really is.

Rightcheer. Have at it. That means do something. That means analyze.
In the process, you will ask yourself some questions.
Answer them in the analysis.

Otherwise, just keep being cute.

*

Ode on a Grecian Urn Related Poem Content Details
BY JOHN KEATS

Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

[Harbal]

Where can I see a picture of this beautiful urn you're talking about? Let's see how beautiful it really is.

Rightcheer. Have at it. That means do something. That means analyze.
In the process, you will ask yourself some questions.
Answer them in the analysis.

You've completely ignored my question, Walker. You don't even know what the damned urn looks like, do you?

[Walker]

Where can I see a picture of this beautiful urn you're talking about? Let's see how beautiful it really is.

Rightcheer. Have at it. That means do something. That means analyze.
In the process, you will ask yourself some questions.
Answer them in the analysis.

You've completely ignored my question, Walker. You don't even know what the damned urn looks like, do you?

(It must be contagious.)

Of course I know what it looks like, you moron.
I read the poem.

You see Harbal, we have the same box of crayons.
- which means, I didn’t write the poem.

However, and you may find this distinction amusing, neither am I one of the Perpetually Perplexed Pestering (The Trip-P's)the attention of folks with nothing to offer the world but the need of my questions.

Anyway, you get the gist and have no capacity or interest in the urn.

Continue on with the distractions, as you must.

[Harbal]

Of course I know what it looks like, you moron.
I read the poem.

I'm surprised at you, Walker, getting all fired up over an urn you've only read about. You can't believe everything you read, you should know that.

[Walker]

Not a single question. Well done. Amazing what a little energy of thought does to the inertia-of-perplexed that spawns those senseless entities.

Fired-up inhibits the glaze of a cold drink in a hot tub, while reading reveals the urn to mind, as do eyes, and any other senses if needed.

Now bug off. I have things to do.

[Harbal]

Not a single question. Well done. Amazing what a little energy of thought does to the inertia-of-perplexed that spawns those senseless entities.

Fired-up inhibits the glaze of a cold drink in a hot tub, while reading reveals the urn to mind, as do eyes, and any other senses if needed.

Have you been drinking, Walker?

Now bug off. I have things to do.

I hope it doesn't involve communicating with anyone.

[thedoc]

The literary convention is that well known authors such as Keats, or St Paul,or Shakespeare,especially their better-known utterances can be quoted without having to have the source named. We aren't primary school kids, and if anyone is uncertain of where a quotation originates and wants to know they only have to ask the poster.

Which convention did you attend, because I was taught to always credit the source if known, and a reader shouldn't have to ask the source of an unknown quote. I'm glad that you know all the quotes that ever were, and who said them, some of us don't know everything.

[Walker]

I hope it doesn't involve communicating with anyone.

Not just anyone ...

The troll ration is sated for now and you should be commended for your rolls. While maintaining proper form while strolling through the fast food aisles of processed thought, a reiteration of the most important question from the work of young Keats is appropriate, although ponders be as scarce as worries for Alfred E.:

Question: how is it that concept and physical form “tease us out of thought.”

Answer:

[Harbal]

The troll ration is sated for now and you should be commended for your rolls. While maintaining proper form while strolling through the fast food aisles of processed thought, a reiteration of the most important question from the work of young Keats is appropriate, although ponders be as scarce as worries for Alfred E.:

What, exactly, do you have against the English language, Walker. Why are you so intent on punishing it to the point of destruction?

[thedoc]

I should really start taking my own advice, "when in the company of fools, keep your own council".

I've heard it said,

"Arguing with a fool is like wrestling with a pig;

You both get up dirty, but the pig enjoys it."

IC, I hope you are enjoying your Easter, our grandchildren are with their parents but the whole family is coming over this evening for supper. My wife is in the middle of a cleaning frenzy, everything has to be clean and perfect for someone to come. Our daughters said they could always tell when we were getting company, my wife and I would be cleaning the house.