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Posted: Mon Oct 03, 2005 12:52 pm
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Posted: Mon Oct 03, 2005 7:43 pm
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Posted: Tue Oct 04, 2005 6:04 am
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Posted: Wed Oct 05, 2005 9:52 am
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Posted: Wed Oct 05, 2005 2:44 pm
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Posted: Wed Oct 05, 2005 4:40 pm
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Posted: Wed Oct 05, 2005 4:41 pm
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Posted: Fri Oct 07, 2005 1:11 pm
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Posted: Sun Oct 09, 2005 12:31 am
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Posted: Tue Oct 18, 2005 8:51 pm
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Posted: Wed Oct 19, 2005 8:29 pm
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Posted: Sat Oct 22, 2005 7:02 pm
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Posted: Tue Nov 08, 2005 1:52 pm
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Posted: Sun Nov 27, 2005 7:12 am
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Posted: Wed Nov 30, 2005 9:01 pm
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LaMort basically when your dead nothing else happens afterward, its childish to think that you'd go to a "better place" all that is is insecurity.
A-ha! That's just the conclusion I came to (more or less) when I was studdying William Blake's poem The Chimney Sweep:
When my mother died I was very young, And my father sold me while yet my tongue Could scarcely cry " 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!" So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.
There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head, That curl'd llke a lamb's back. was shav'd: so I said "Hush. Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair."
And so he was quiet & that very night, As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight! That thousands of sweepers, d**k, Joe, Ned or Jack. Were all of them lock'd up in coffins of black.
And by came an Angel who had a bright key, And he open'd the coffins & set them all free; Then down a green plain leaping, laughing, they run, And wash in a river. and shine in the Sun.
Then naked & white, all their bags left behind, They rise upon clouds and sport in the wind; And the Angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy, He'd have God for his father & never want joy.
And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark. And got with our bags & our brushes to work. Tho' the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm; So if all do their duty they need not fear harm.
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