Spartanmouse

Don't

Well I'm not going to be published anywhere else, am I?   Thrasymachus declares that justice is nothing but “the advantage of the stronger.” What does he mean by this? Identify and evaluate how successfully Plato rejects this claim in the Republic.   In Book 1 of Plato’s the Republic, Socrates engages his interlocutors in a dialogue about the nature of justice. The sophist Thrasymachus proposes the contentious but compelling definition of justice as being ‘simply what is in the interest of the stronger party.’  In this rejection of conventional morality, Thrasymachus disclaims the relation between justice and moral virtue, asserting the relativistic position that what is right is defined entirely by the interests of those with the greatest political power, the rulers, and not by any absolute objective standard of right or wrong action. Socrates cannot give a definition of justice of his own, but he refutes Thrasymachus’ claim using his customary technique of questioning t...

Lying face down on my bed, I breathe effortlessly. It requires no application for it is no act of will. My ear turned to the mattress, I hear the dull rhythm of my heart slogging away. It pumps and pumps and pumps again, each pump marking the passing of a moment wasted, lost forever not to history but to nothing, for who shall remember these hollow beats that thud like a suitcase dragged cruelly down step after endless step? When comes the rest from this vain and wearisome toil? Who made this wretched and unwilling machine and said that it should sigh in, sigh out and pump and pump and pump, all the while giving off a fierce heat that none besides itself would know? Sweat breaks out upon my hands and feet and brow. I grow too hot against the mattress, this absurd assemblage of pump and pipe and bellows. Too hot, too hot! But there is no other blood or friendship in this bed with which to mingle, and for all my perspiration this heat might as well be the deathly chill of ice. In such a ...

  If you believe same-sex relationships are wrong, based all or in part on the teachings of the Bible, and if you assume it necessarily follows that you should be against the legalisation of same-sex marriage, I’d like to suggest there may be important things you haven’t yet considered.   If you believe this is an important topic, I submit that this note is worthy of your attention, even if you are convinced that your conviction about this may not be swayed, and I ask you to read on.   Let us start by making some assumptions, which I hope everyone reading this is either happy with, or is happy to entertain for the purpose of illustrating the argument: God created man in his image and created woman from man’s flesh to be his companion, united forever as one body and this is the basis for Christian marriage. Sex between a man and a woman is part of God’s design in creation. Homosexuals indulge in sexual sin and as a consequence will not inherit the kingdom of God. Everybody...

Few can have missed the recent and on-going furore over the government’s proposals to legalise same-sex marriage in England and Wales. Public expressions of both support and opposition to the proposals from ordinary members of the public have been in plentiful supply, and shyness hasn’t prevented lots of people, many of whom are not often found campaigning, appealing to friends and strangers alike, to join the melee and take action to influence proceedings one way or another. What has been lacking is real dialogue.   How many of these eager voices have engaged in rigorous debate? How many have taken the time to consider their position and to hear and reflect on that of their opponents? How many have done so in pursuit of a full understanding of the issue about which they are so exercised, and have been prepared to pursue that aim relentlessly and to its very end? Of those arguing against same-sex marriage, I have found but one such person, but I am not surprised. Why? Because the v...

Imagine for a moment that you are gay. As a youngster, this is not something you were insanely masochistic enough that you would have chosen it had it been a choice, but in any case it was not. As an adult, you’re now well-adjusted enough, but still rather regret your sexuality, not least because you grew up surrounded by messages that said it meant you weren’t ‘normal’ or ‘healthy’. Imagine the isolation and fear you felt when strangers, peers and friends alike made derisive jokes about gay people or casually used the word ‘gay’ to mean stupid or awful, not to mention some people's expressions of disgust nor the recurring wide tacit and express acceptance of the self-righteously aggressive tone in which this sometimes came. Imagine that growing up, your sexuality was a secret that you kept from even your very closest friends and family members until you were 18, and from many others for much longer, because you were afraid of what they might think and how they might react. Imagine...

And so here we stand, looking into the unknown: Another long week stretched out before us, A vast plane of uncertain possibility.   Just out of view, the minutes are neatly stacked, Each patiently waiting for its allotted time. With every tick of the clock, They creep steadily closer to revealing their lot.   Who knows what they will hold? Dull monotony for seven long days, Or shock and surprise at every hour? The sense of anticipation is palpable.   Whatever happens to you and whatever happens to me, I hope we'll have the strength to take the bad with the good. I hope we'll have the grace to be thankful for the good amongst the bad. I hope we'll take comfort in knowing that even in our loneliest moments, we never truly need be alone. I hope we'll have hope that the next minute may bring something better, And I hope we'll dare to believe that life might one day be wonderful again.   I can but hope.

I gave you all that I had. It wasn't much. Just my little heart, bonded to yours so I could feel your every beat, and hear your every sigh.   How does your heart still pulse, torn so savagely away? Only tatters of mine remain. They ache, these quivering tatters, limp, tender, bloody, raw, bruised and sore. I burn, and I sting, and I bleed.   Let this be a dream, and I'll awake from these nine months of madness never having known you; never having soared above the highest clouds into the endless blue sky, on nothing but the warmth of your embrace; never having imagined that I'd stumbled upon my reason to be.   Let this be a dream, and I'll awake a lesser human, a lesser man, for never having known this kind of love.   Let this be a dream, and I'll awake to the familiar pallid grey of living not with passion, nor with purpose, but for the sake of living, each day colourless as the day before, and colourless as the day to follow.   But this is already my new life, ...

I used to have a reason to have my hair cut nice and short. I used to have a reason proudly to tidy and dust my room. I used to have a reason to change my bed sheets and to wash my clothes too. I used to have a reason to make nice food.   I didn't do any of these things this week. But today I had my hair cut nice and short for no reason, Because if I stopped doing things that have no reason, I'd do nothing at all.

Woe betide the man who forgets how lucky he is. 누구든지 자신이 얼마나 운이 좋은지 알지 못하면 자신에게 불행하다.

The clock has ticked and tocked again, To bring another day, So to the office now I go, To work these hours of light.   There I know I'll miss a boy, Who's had to stay away, Because it's not as bright for him, But cold and dark as night.   I'd light another sun to help, If I could find a way, But I'm no god; a mere man, I've no such mystic might.   I can but hold him in my heart, Where he'll always stay, And know, deep down, his hand's in mine, There grasped forever tight.

The sweet aroma of cheap lager and cider, The delicate fragrance of stubbed out spliffs, The uplifting sound of 20 young voices roaring with laughter and shouting jibes and expletives in shrill cacophonic chorus, The invigorating pleasure of being jostled by Kappa-clad adolescents as they entertain themselves by throwing things at the turbans of fellow passengers and pouring alcopops on one another. If I ever called it snobbish to refuse to use buses, I take it back.

You let me adore you, once. Warmly, you smiled at me, And tenderly you spoke, I never wanted a hero, Just something warm and tender to cherish.   Now you are gone, You deny me.   All I have left are my memories. Weightless, like ash, I hold them in my hand, And watch as the breeze steals you piece by piece.   I’ll drink to your memory, while it lasts, While it lasts it will sear me inside, A toast will subdue the sting.   I’ll drink to your memory, while it lasts, When it’s gone, I’ll be empty inside, A toast will help it linger on.   I’ve no more tomorrows. I’ve no more todays. I lost them all when you shunned me, You took them all away.

It’s not been long since I hit the ground, Thrown down from my misguided dreaming, He told me in truth I had got it all wrong, So I embraced him and left, my eyes streaming.   My hopes were delusion, I then realised, Nought but a mad fantasy, The affection I felt, I thought was returned, But it seems that my mind had tricked me.   The insufferable sun has shone since that day, Throwing light and warmth over my grief, Finally, today it is overcast, And a dismal grey brings me relief.   The clouds press down and burst with emotion, In pity, the skies freely weep, Tired from fighting the summery cheer, At ease in the rain, now I’ll sleep.   Each person, each tree, every inch of the ground, Like the pillow that rests on my bed, Is soaked through and though, to tell of my hurt, Drenched in tears, which for him I have shed.   Everyone carries umbrellas around, To snub and ignore me with scorn. They care not how deeply I’m aching within, But today they will join me and...

Announced only by the faintest whisper, you crept in and settled inconspicuously amongst the kindling of my heart.   Ignorant and careless, I tended you, faint ember, welcoming your gentle friendly light. As the brief days flickered by, I checked your glow with barely more than a cursory glance. How could I have noticed your flames audaciously leaping heavenward, daring to singe the sky?   Your unostentatious entrance belied your peculiar designs. You did not come to seek shelter and rest discreetly. No. You were not modest, meek or mild. Insidious, insouciant, insuperable, you took me by surprise.   Alarms begin to ring all around me. Disoriented, I look around to the place where last I watched you glow. Whence came this raging blaze?   What am I to do? Nothing, but look on as you scorch me. Can I be content, helplessly to witness you flare with sanguine enthusiasm around me?   Untouchable and untameable inferno, you crackle with laughter. With infinite confide...

Earlier today, I had assumed I would be in Berlin by now. Oh how wrong I was. Crucial to the success of my journey was accurate information about the travel time between London Euston and London Heathrow Terminal 5, but it turned out that this was the one thing I lacked.   I spent some time planning the domestic leg of my jaunt to Germany - my first in some 15 years. Little did I know, when planning and booking my train and tube tickets, I was carefully arranging to miss my flight by a matter of minutes.   I don't remember from whom I heard it takes only forty five minutes to travel from Euston to Heathrow on the tube, nor why I believed them. Neither can I fathom why I didn't think to check this bit of trivia before making the rest of my plans around it.   Today I learnt that on a weekday afternoon, it takes not forty five minutes, but an hour and twenty minutes to travel from Euston to Heathrow by tube. I arrived at departures precisely four minutes too late and was ass...