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To ask other readers questions about Red Dog in Bandit Country , please sign up. Be the first to ask a question about Red Dog in Bandit Country. Lists with This Book. Community Reviews. Showing Average rating 3. Rating details. More filters. Sort order. Apr 04, Leroy rated it it was amazing. Loved this book.
Collected Essays, by George Orwell
It was always exciting. Couldn't put it down. Oct 17, Linley rated it really liked it Shelves: brilliant-and-true. A wonderful tale - I had to keep reminding myself that it was not fiction.
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He may have embellished his tale along the way a bit, I don't know, but it was worth it. Huge thanks to Fleur for getting it down on paper. Highly recommended to teens or adults who enjoy real non-fiction adventure. Dannii rated it liked it Jul 04, Ratesjul rated it liked it Jan 28, Viv rated it it was amazing Nov 20, Anita Vandenberghe rated it really liked it Oct 21, Jackie rated it really liked it Jun 26, That Man is not to be deemed imperfect, but a being suited to his place and rank in the Creation, agreeable to the general Order of Things, and conformable to Ends and Relations to him unknown, v.
That it is partly upon his ignorance of future events, and partly upon the hope of future state, that all his happiness in the present depends, v. The impiety of putting himself in the place of God, and judging of the fitness or unfitness, perfection or imperfection, justice or injustice of His dispensations, v. The absurdity of conceiting himself the final cause of the Creation, or expecting that perfection in the moral world, which is not in the natural, v. The unreasonableness of his complaints against Providence, while on the one hand he demands the Perfections of the Angels, and on the other the bodily qualifications of the Brutes; though to possess any of the sensitive faculties in a higher degree would render him miserable, v.
That throughout the whole visible world, an universal order and gradation in the sensual and mental faculties is observed, which cause is a subordination of creature to creature, and of all creatures to Man. The gradations of sense, instinct, thought, reflection, reason; that Reason alone countervails all the other faculties, v. How much further this order and subordination of living creatures may extend, above and below us; were any part of which broken, not that part only, but the whole connected creation, must be destroyed, v. The extravagance, madness, and pride of such a desire, v.
The consequence of all, the absolute submission due to Providence, both as to our present and future state, v. Awake, my St. Say first, of God above, or man below What can we reason, but from what we know? Of man, what see we but his station here, From which to reason, or to which refer? He, who through vast immensity can pierce, See worlds on worlds compose one universe, Observe how system into system runs, What other planets circle other suns, What varied being peoples every star, May tell why Heaven has made us as we are.
But of this frame, the bearings, and the ties, The strong connections, nice dependencies, Gradations just, has thy pervading soul Looked through? Is the great chain, that draws all to agree, And drawn supports, upheld by God, or thee? Presumptuous man!
First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess, Why formed no weaker, blinder, and no less; Ask of thy mother earth, why oaks are made Taller or stronger than the weeds they shade? Respecting man, whatever wrong we call, May, must be right, as relative to all. If to be perfect in a certain sphere, What matter, soon or late, or here or there? The blest to-day is as completely so, As who began a thousand years ago. Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate, All but the page prescribed, their present state: From brutes what men, from men what spirits know: Or who could suffer being here below?
The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood. Oh, blindness to the future! Hope humbly, then; with trembling pinions soar; Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore.
What future bliss, He gives not thee to know, But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be blest: The soul, uneasy and confined from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come. Lo, the poor Indian!
The Ballad of Colton Harris-Moore
Go, wiser thou! In pride, in reasoning pride, our error lies; All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies. Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes, Men would be angels, angels would be gods. Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell, Aspiring to be angels, men rebel: And who but wishes to invert the laws Of order, sins against the Eternal Cause. Ask for what end the heavenly bodies shine, Earth for whose use? If the great end be human happiness, Then Nature deviates; and can man do less? From pride, from pride, our very reasoning springs; Account for moral, as for natural things: Why charge we heaven in those, in these acquit?
In both, to reason right is to submit. Better for us, perhaps, it might appear, Were there all harmony, all virtue here; That never air or ocean felt the wind; That never passion discomposed the mind. But all subsists by elemental strife; And passions are the elements of life.
The general order, since the whole began, Is kept in nature, and is kept in man. What would this man? Now upward will he soar, And little less than angel, would be more; Now looking downwards, just as grieved appears To want the strength of bulls, the fur of bears Made for his use all creatures if he call, Say what their use, had he the powers of all? Nature to these, without profusion, kind, The proper organs, proper powers assigned; Each seeming want compensated of course, Here with degrees of swiftness, there of force; All in exact proportion to the state; Nothing to add, and nothing to abate.
Each beast, each insect, happy in its own: Is Heaven unkind to man, and man alone? Shall he alone, whom rational we call, Be pleased with nothing, if not blessed with all? The bliss of man could pride that blessing find Is not to act or think beyond mankind; No powers of body or of soul to share, But what his nature and his state can bear. Why has not man a microscopic eye? For this plain reason, man is not a fly.
Say what the use, were finer optics given, To inspect a mite, not comprehend the heaven?
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Or quick effluvia darting through the brain, Die of a rose in aromatic pain? If Nature thundered in his opening ears, And stunned him with the music of the spheres, How would he wish that Heaven had left him still The whispering zephyr, and the purling rill? Who finds not Providence all good and wise, Alike in what it gives, and what denies? Feels at each thread, and lives along the line: In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true From poisonous herbs extracts the healing dew?
How instinct varies in the grovelling swine, Compared, half-reasoning elephant, with thine! Remembrance and reflection how allayed; What thin partitions sense from thought divide: And middle natures, how they long to join, Yet never passed the insuperable line! Without this just gradation, could they be Subjected, these to those, or all to thee? The powers of all subdued by thee alone, Is not thy reason all these powers in one? See, through this air, this ocean, and this earth, All matter quick, and bursting into birth. Above, how high, progressive life may go!
Around, how wide!
Vast chain of being! And, if each system in gradation roll Alike essential to the amazing whole, The least confusion but in one, not all That system only, but the whole must fall. All this dread order break—for whom? Vile worm! What if the foot, ordained the dust to tread, Or hand, to toil, aspired to be the head?