The rain set early in tonight,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me — she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavor,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me forever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could tonight's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshiped me: surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!

-Porphyria's Lover- Robert Browning

Let me explain the problem science has with Jesus Christ." The atheist professor of philosophy pauses before his class and then asks one of his new students to stand.


"You're a Christian, aren't you, son?"


"Yes sir," the student says.


"So you believe in God?"


"Absolutely."


"Is God good?"


"Sure! God's good."


"Is God all-powerful? Can God do anything?"


"Yes."


"Are you good or evil?"


"The Bible says I'm evil."


The professor grins knowingly. "Aha! The Bible!" He considers for a
moment. "Here's one for you. Let's say there's a sick person over here and
you can cure him. You can do it. Would you help him? Would you try?"


"Yes sir, I would."


"So you're good...!"


"I wouldn't say that."


"But why not say that? You'd help a sick and maimed person if you
could. Most of us would if we could. But God doesn't."


The student does not answer, so the professor continues. "He doesn't,
does he? My brother was a Christian who died of cancer, even though he
prayed to Jesus to heal him. How is this Jesus good? Hmmm? Can you
answer that one?"


The student remains silent.


"No, you can't, can you?" the professor says. He takes a sip of water
from a glass on his desk to give the student time to relax.


"Let's start again, young fella. Is God good?"


"Er...yes," the student says.


"Is Satan good?"


The student doesn't hesitate on this one. "No."


"Then where does Satan come from?"


The student falters. "From...God..."


"That's right. God made Satan, didn't he? Tell me, son. Is there evil
in this world?"


"Yes, sir."


"Evil's everywhere, isn't it? And God did make everything, correct?"


"Yes."


"So who created evil?" The professor continued, "If God created
everything, then God created evil, since evil exists, and according to the
principle that our works define who we are, then God is evil."


Again, the student has no answer. "Is there sickness? Immorality?
Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things, do they exist in this world?"


The student squirms on his feet. "Yes."


"So who created them?"


The student does not answer again, so the professor repeats his
question. "Who created them? There is still no answer. Suddenly the lecturer
breaks away to pace in front of the classroom. The class is mesmerized.
"Tell me," he continues onto another student. "Do you believe in Jesus
Christ, son?"


The student's voice betrays him and cracks. "Yes, professor, I do."


The old man stops pacing. "Science says you have five senses you use to
identify and observe the world around you. Have you ever seen Jesus?"


"No sir. I've never seen Him."


"Then tell us if you've ever heard your Jesus?"


"No, sir, I have not."


"Have you ever felt your Jesus, tasted your Jesus or smelt your Jesus?
Have you ever had any sensory perception of Jesus Christ, or God for
that matter?"


"No, sir, I'm afraid I haven't."


"Yet you still believe in him?"


"Yes."


"According to the rules of empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol,
science says your God doesn't exist. What do you say to that, son?"


"Nothing," the student replies. "I only have my faith."


"Yes, faith," the professor repeats. "And that is the problem science
has with God. There is no evidence, only faith."


The student stands quietly for a moment, before asking a question of
his own. "Professor, is there such thing as heat?"


"Yes," the professor replies. "There's heat."


"And is there such a thing as cold?"


"Yes, son, there's cold too."


"No sir, there isn't."


The professor turns to face the student, obviously interested. The room
suddenly becomes very quiet. The student begins to explain.


"You can have lots of heat, even more heat, super-heat, mega-heat,
unlimited heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat, but we don't have
anything called 'cold'. We can hit up to 458 degr

Isnt it funny that when you go to the shops with your friends you look down at the girl with black jeans and studs but smile at the girl wearing a a mini with a tshirt that barely cover anything?

Isnt it funny you can change your music taste to impress a guy but when it comes to a girl who likes her own music and her own style, you give her a mouthful?

ISNT IT FUNNY that a guy can get away with being a gangsta but the emo gets a mouthful from everyone

are you laughing?

Isnt it funny a emo can be quiet all through the week but gets more shit from everyone than the girl who sleeps around and sells her virginity?

ISNT IT FUNNY that you dont mind your friends drinking, smoking but the minute someone mentions emo music you can give them a lecture on melodramatic teenage outcasts?

im not laughing.

ITS SO FUNNY that you and your friends can make a girls life hell and not know anything about the silent battle she might be fighting.

ISNT IT FUNNY that you can call emos, punks, goths the retards but still manage to get through your day without an inch of guilt in your heart.

HOW YOU CAN CALL A GIRL A POSER, HOW CAN YOU SAY "YOUR NOT EMO" OR "ATTENTION SEEKER" WITHOUT SPENDING A SECOND TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHY THERE ARE CUTS ON HER WRISTS AND WHY SHE SPENDS HER LUNCHTIMES CRYING INSTEAD OR LAUGHING WITH HER FRIENDS

KEEP ON LAUGHING

isnt it funny you can say and do all this without any idea of what is going on in this persons life

without knowing her situation with her friends

or her family

or her LIFE

BRAVE ISNT GOING UP ON STAGE AND STRIPPING

BRAVE IS NOT SAYING A SPEECH

OR DUMPING YOUR BOYFRIEND

BRAVE IS

GOING TO SCHOOL ON MUFTI DAY AND NOT FOR A SECOND CARE WHAT THE WHORES AROUND YOU ARE SAYING ABOUT YOUR CLOTHES

ITS LISTENING TO YOUR OWN MUSIC AND BEING PROUD OF IT

ITS GOING THROUGH EVERY DAY WITH THE THINGS PEOPLE SAY TO YOUR FACE AND BEHIND YOUR BACK AND YOU STILL KEEP QUIET

ITS KNOWING WHAT YOUR "FRIENDS" ARE SAYING ABOUT YOU AND STILL CALLING THEM YOUR FRIENDS

BRAVE IS KNOWING THAT TOMOROW ISNT A BRIGHT AND HAPPY FUTURE

ITS ANOTHER DAY OF BITCHING AND DODGING RUMORS

KEEP ON LAUGHING.

If you agree, put this on your Bebo page.