Saturday, July 31, 2010

What To Write In Wedding Guestbook

The nocturnal visitor

The other night, God came to visit me. For a little chat. He does it from time to time. It seems that since I'm older, I am more confident. Already we wear beards both. Casually it approaches these things, you know. He even tu me. What I am obviously not in spite of the familiarity between us.
But that night, it was red with anger. He had read my blog and all these falsehoods I shed on his account and religions. He called me all the words, I was advised to read the Bible and even threatened me with a fatwa to make myself feel that He was the God of all men. But it has scanned my brain and saw that it was in the writings of Hubert Reeves, Trinh Xuan Thuan, Spinoza, Stephen Hawking, Einstein, this bad joker Pierre Yves Morvan and even Peter Teilhard de Chardin and a bunch of other scholars that I drew all my deviations.
At this point in his vituperation, I examined his head and could not stop a tear running down my cheeks.
Then He stopped to speak plainly and His wrath has fallen. Good God is merciful, it is known. But I felt His alternating anger and mercy had deeper roots.
I looked up and noticed that he suddenly showed a dark mine. Respectfully, I raised an eyebrow questioningly towards him. It took a while to answer me.
"Listen," he said, I read what you call your anchors.
I ducked into the shoulders, expecting another volley of insults and threats.
"No, no," he said, fear not. I'm looking for is mine, my own anchors I mean .* When I look at what people say or write me, it gets very mixed, you know. Sometimes, I am an all-powerful character who rules the heavens and on earth, now a being of goodness that does not allow a single hair falls from the heads of men that I do not allow this, sometimes a ** vengeful God like Sodom and Gomorrah, sometimes as a tyrant who drove Adam and Eve from paradise to a misdemeanor, now a ruthless father who sends his son to the crucifixion, now a god ethereal which is said "he is the one" ... well now I am confused myself. Some even say that I am an immanent God, a God entangled in nature, the cosmos and I are one. Freud told me - well, yes, it is in my paradise despite everything, moron - so he told me I was suffering from multiple personality syndrome. And now with the story of God immanent, now I'm not even a person. I would not have multiple personalities, I would not have even one. It's very hard to be God, you know, "he finished, Air depressed.
What I could answer that, eh? I still could not advise him to consult another psychologist or St. Augustine or Thomas Aquinas or some other luminary sitting up there beside him. It would no doubt even more mixed.
So I said nothing at all and, after a long silence, he put me on the shoulder a compassionate hand and then he leaned toward me and, after looking left and right to be sure we did not hear, he whispered in her ear: "Listen, I too read these wicked writings you speak in your blog. I even read this recent publication "Happy without God" and since I do not sleep anymore because I do not know if really exist. "
With these words of consolation, he gave me a wink and gave me an affectionate shove. Then he turned and left.
I am sure you will agree with me now that God is really a good fellow.

* The reader will note that I use the upper case when I talk about God. But from His side, He does not use capital letters when He speaks of Himself. Conversations with God requires a lot of subtleties.
** At this point, I almost said that he had missed the Rwanda genocide where the hair on the heads remained but that, cons, who were the heads fell.

Friday, July 23, 2010

What Can You Buy With The Lone Star Card At Heb

Capsule No1 physical

What is matter made of?

The first question I will address is the matter: What is matter made of? Talk about a question, you say, matter is material, not looking for noon at two hours!

Good, let the question differently:

-What makes the table on which rests your computer?
-Of wood, you say?
-Okay.
And what kind of wood?
-pine.
-Perfect. So we know that your table has been manufactured from material which is pine. And this pin, where is it?
-In the forest where it grew.
And how did it take to grow?
"Well, a seed has probably escaped from a pot of sprouted pine and pine near his father.
Well. Now, push further our investigation : How a tiny seed of pine could she generate the huge tree that was cut and shaped to make your computer table?
-Probably because the little pine seed has dug deep into the ground and airborne nutrients needed for growth.
-That is well said. But by what magical process, these nutrients (oxygen, calcium, iron, etc.). Could they become a tree? I can not turn my flashlight pen, is not it? Unless you're a great magician or a miracle worker like Jesus Christ, they say, could turn water into wine. So how these nutrients can they become a tree?
-??
-This is not yesterday that the man ask these questions. Already in ancient Greek philosophers (Parmenides, Plato, Aristotle, Empedocles, Anaxagoras, etc..) Arose the question of how the rabbit eats the grass that she can become a rabbit? Democritus who is finally found the answer: all that exists is made of small particles interchangeable atoms. They are the small change of the universe. These are pieces of a huge Meccano set that can be combined in various ways to build a house now, sometimes a horse. It and the grass can turn into rabbit flesh and nutrients in the soil and air can become tree. But

atoms, which Democritus had the intuition, do they really exist? In the nineteenth century, are still not convinced. Only at the beginning of the twentieth century, particularly through the work of Jean Perrin, the reality of atoms has been proved. Thus the atom is the answer to our question: What are you made computer table and, more generally, any known matter, stars up aphids.

In the early twentieth century, the atom is seen as the ultimate reality of matter: it is indivisible and can not go further into the infinitely small. Everything would soon change profoundly.

dint of scrutinizing the atom, we find it comprises a core around which twirl and wriggle infinitely small things: electrons. And we're not out of surprises. The nucleus itself is composed of two particles: protons and neutrons. Are we finally arrived at the ultimate reality of things, the smallest particle imaginable?

is what we know in the next episode of our exciting and adventurous descent at the heart of the matter.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Ap Biology Lab 5 Analysis ?s

What was not written *

" What has not been written is what brought me to this house this evening in June 1954, Antoine told me.

"Someone wrote that I had heard that my courage and it was an act of pure heroism. All the newspapers have spoken and I was even decorated for this feat.

"This has greatly contributed to making my move such a media event is the photo taken by an amateur in the neighborhood. A photo published sensational the front page of every newspaper: me in white shirt collar wide open, his hair singed and out of the burning house with Anne Marie fainted in my arms. Marie-Anne a splendid and touching in her white nightgown, with her angelic face and long blond hair that hung loosely from his head tilted backwards.

"I also think it is at that moment that I fell in love.

"This rescue, and especially this photo, we were catapulted to the forefront of the news. Marie-Anne, who in his work as a model, had succeeded in that parade for designers of low floor, quickly became the favorite cover girl of magazines and advertising. For my part, I became an architect and interior designer in high demand, I who was penniless and had no job or contract awarded since the end of my studies a year earlier.

" What has not been written is that when I walked into that house that night, I did not know that the fire was smoldering in the back shed. When I stuffed into my pocket thirty dollars found in the cupboard of the kitchen, I had not even noticed that the fire was growing. Only by digging through the drawer of the sideboard in the lounge, I heard screams coming from the street. I then approached the window and hid behind the curtains, I saw people gathered in the street pointed at the house. I really became aware of the situation when, in the hubbub, I entered the words "fire, fire, warning ...". Without asking my left, I ran to the kitchen to escape from the rear. I certainly did not want them to see me leave this house. But the thick smoke and menacing that rolled the door shut behind retiring. Panicked, I toured the rooms, hoping to escape through a window and escape unnoticed.

"Now I heard the rumbling fire that damned fire that was gaining ground at an incredible speed. Suddenly, an explosion shattered the kitchen door, my face blowing a cloud of hot smoke. I rushed into the bathroom and I closed the door. Face covered by a wet towel, I came out on all fours to go in the front room, the only piece that I had not yet explored.

"The towel over his mouth, I crawled to the window when, passing by the bed, I jumped at the sight of a lifeless human form ...

"Have I acted out of compassion or because I saw this my salvation? I do not know. After dropping the towel and pulled the covers, I slipped my arm under that person, and raised him, coughing and crying, I rushed towards the door through the flames and smoke.

"It's there in the steps of the short staircase, this blessed photographer took this picture of the knight without fear and without reproach saving the Beauty of claws of the dragon.

" What has not been written is that Knight, who died of fear, blame is always somewhat laudable motives which had led to this house.

" What has not been written either, is that after all these years, Mary Anne and I, we still love dearly despite never understood how I able to retrieve her jewelry in the drawer of the sideboard.

"Is it necessary to tell you," said Anthony, whom the story must remain secret and never, ever, it should be written.

¤

Woman novel, Marie-Anne insisted that we bought the house half-burned. We rebuilt and obviously we're installed. If you pass by there on a summer evening, you'll see Mary-Anne rocking on the porch and, as long as you speak to him, his wonderful face flourish. It will surely find a way to divert the conversation to tell you my heroic conduct during that famous night in 1954.

"Do not tell him is mostly my story. She would be able to set fire to the house just for me another opportunity to show you my heroism.

"And, frankly, do you see me at my age, lifting her in my arms? She now weighs in seventy pounds, you know. I should drag out through the feet. Still very lucky if it's not her that was me out there.

"And that tells me that there was nowhere to be seen around a bit zealous photographer?"


¤

This episode in the life of my old friend Anthony is word for word what he m has told a few days before his death closely by Marie-Anne. I swore never to breathe a word to anyone. But you know me, huh, I never take my promises. This is not about infidelity, it's my memory that goes awry.


* Extract revised The man who smiled in his sleep Jean Marcoux Ed. The Fifteen 1994






Monday, July 5, 2010

Wax Job Before And After

was a July 17

This magic moment, I tried to get him back before my eyes several times, but it still eludes me. I only have only fragments, like the strange dream that tries to relive the morning.

was a July 17, around 20:30.

We returned slowly to the island of Orleans and had taken the path of Priests, a side road that goes from St. Lawrence in St. Peter. A road that looks like the Route du Mitan a little farther east, but shorter and a little less spectacular.

And there, down to St. Peter, we've seen this show. We stopped to see better what was happening, like many other people in the rest. The sky was overcast. We saw the sun for a brief moment, on the side of Côte de Beaupré: a round disc, perfectly cut above the mountains, but dull, muffled rays in the clouds. But even once gone, the sun continued to illuminate a broad band of diffuse light horizon orange. This is especially the light that was extraordinary. A true landscape of Apocalypse that some were even terrifying. Above this band of opaque clouds with purple fringe. Of distant lightning added to the scene of the Last Judgement. A grim scenery, but beautiful. We took in the hope of seeing God and eternal judge.

the other side of the road, young girls were playing soccer on a playground Without knowing why, I plunged into this atmosphere a vague past that escaped me, feeling more than memories, memories blur which I had left was the smell. I wanted to freeze this moment. I felt good. As if time no longer existed. As if I was transported into another world. As if I returned to my childhood days when life was eternal. As if heaven was at hand. As if ... I do not know.

We came back in the pouring rain but strangely soul in peace. I had the impression of having experienced an episode of Alice in Wonderland.