#but ive never had the capacity to connect right and ive never had passion for anything and ive never been able to really love and be loved

[gaystardykeco]

not ready to go back to work tomorrow but luckily im so not ready that my brain isn't letting it fully process and so im just kind of numb except for little moments when the panic breaks through again

[gaylonelydyke]

if it’s not too late, 12 for episodes and ships, and 17!

its never too late! thankyou for the ask 🥰 oo damn this is gonna be a hefty one, just to prepare you this is gonna be long 😅😅😅

spoiler alert for my friends who are finishing up season 2 rn, be careful if you look at my top five episodes, pay attention the the episode numbers, i will put [ ] in bold at the beginning and end of spoilers!

12. Top 5 ships

5. faith x myself because have you seen faith? shes such a babe! spare consensual kiss maam?

4. willow x oz, i dont know if this is an unpopular or not but i feel like if the 90s had been more accepting of term then willow wouldve been bisexual, but like even now tv shows will rarely let characters say that word :( but anyway i love them! theyre both quirky and kinda awkward but its such a sweet relationship and you really see how they go from awkward crushes to an actual deep relationship, oz is one of my favourite characters too what a dude!

3. giles x jenny, mlmxwlw solidarity in this bisexual couple! there is no an ounce of straight between them and i love it, i love their dynamic, i love that giles *respects women* (im staring daggers at xander rn), also the original girlboss x malewife couple askdjaksjhd

2. drusilla x spike, these two!!!!!! once again a bisexual couple with zero straight between them, the vibes are off the charts. sexy vampires, goth x punk love, i just love them man, and their relationship is so interesting to delve into. like theyre vampires, theyre soulless and yet they have a capacity for love, they care deeply for eachother, theyre so tender towards eachother in season 2 in the way they take turns to care for one another, also drusilla picking spike up with one hand made me gay and thats on that

1. willow x tara!!!!! lesbians man lesbians! they have a beautiful relationship, until a certain point wink wink, they feel like a perfect match, willows become more outgoing due to buffy and xander snd having a proper group of friends, so its cool to see her as the more outgoing independant one in the relationship, and tara is such a honey 🥺 the biggest sweetheart in the world what a babe!!!! also like how groundbreaking was their relationship? as a queer couple, they had p much the dame amount of screentime as a aueer relationship today! and willow says the word lesbian so many times and is always making gay jokes which is something shows today are too scared to do, its honestly refreshing which is weird for a show in the 90/00s

12. Top 5 episodes

this is so hard because its such a damn good show so i had to rlly be picky about this but here we go

5. 6x22 ‘grave’- i watched buffy for the first time last year at work coz i worked with one other person just packing shit, and THIS was the episode that made us cry infront of eachother. the scene with willow and xander at the end is one of my all time favourite scenes and like legit we were watching and we starting going like ha.. this is so sad Q_Q and we looked at eachother and we were both crying akdjdjsjdhs its SO GOOD, like this is a friendship ive been so invested in and [seeing xander be able to pull her back from that dark place was so heart wrenching and amazing god its so good]

4. 3x12 ‘helpless’ - im finishing up s2 in my rewatch rn so i havent rewatched this one to double check but i remember loving it man. buffys father daughter relationship with giles is my favourite of the whole show they make my heart ache, so i love that this is an episode that really shows you how dedicated giles is to her, [its the breaking point where he finally disregards the fact that hes a watcher and acts as her father once and for all, its a turning point for their relationship where he is finally embracing the fact that shes like a daughter to him and i just love to see it Q_Q get you a dad who will leave his lifes calling for you]

3. 4x22 ‘restless’ - season 4 is interesting coz it has really good episodes and them some gd awful ones 😂😂 but this one just blew me away, i love a good character study episode and this is THE SHIT! its so weird and creepy but in the most perfect way, its not on the nose its so subtle, it feels like an uncanny valley version of buffy almost, i like that they finished the season first and then took this episode to do something out of the box and different i feel like it lets them fully explore this idea without the pressure of needing plot included. [also the cheese man is iconic. dont however like xander being all nasty with willow and tara but whats new there man]

2. 1x12 ‘The Prophecy Girl’ - for my first watch of buffy i wasnt that into the first season, like i enjoyed it but i didnt think it was anything super special? but this episode changed EVERYTHING for me. up until now buffy had been fun, witty, charming, but not anything new atleast for me, maybe in the 90s it was but right now its your average teen supernatural show. but this episode!!!! the emotion! buffy facing her death, her speech about how shes just 16 and shes scared and she doesnt want to die, that is what i wanna see!! its heartbreaking and it made me cry, and then it gives us the wonderful moment of giles trying to take her place and buffy realising that she has to be the one to do it, man its so good! basically anything with buffy and giles being a duo is gonna make it an automatic yes from me and this is indeed the case for this episode, i just love that the show remembers that shes a child! shes not brave all the time, shes not strong all the time, shes just doing her best and sometimes its overwhelming, 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 i bow to this episode

1. 2x17 ‘passion’ - i know i just sang praises about prophecy girl but THIS EPISODE IS THE SHIT, the best episode full stop. i wont accept any argument. angel is probably my favourite big bad, its so funny to see plain bread, mopey brooding angel become this charismatic, funny, poetic, blood thirsty angelus, hes everything i want in a villain and in this episode he delivers! rip jenny tho love her. i think the tension built around angel is so good, because of his drawings and notes left around, every scene youre worrying like is he here now? are they safe or what? its so tense! and also it is me and im a slag for buffy x giles father daughter moments and this episode fucking delivers! giles discovering jennys dead body is probably one of the best scenes on the show, the dramatic irony is heAVY, we know jenny is dead, we know that these flowers arent from her, but giles is so so happy, and i want to see him happy but you just know somehing horrific is about to happen and damn does it. its a masterpiece! i love jenny and giles so much it is so sad, but also the fact that it gave us that scene makes me almmmoost ok with it? i also love the moment where giles breaks down in buffys arms, hes been there for her and now shes returning the favour and hes accepting it i just 😭😭😭 also on a different note, angels narration of this episode is amazing! it gives us great insight to who he is as “evil angel” and like even though hes awful i was also kind of rooting for him coz hes just such a great villain

sorry this is so long lmao, last question!

17. Which characer do you wish had less of a focus on them in the show?

i dont wanna get yelled at butttttt i dont like the amount of focus on dawn. i think it makes sense for the her first season considering the story arc but that season really does double down its focus onto dawn and buffy and it barely leaves room for anyone else to have a storyline, it keeps the episodes super depressing too its like a constant level of just sadness the whole time because we’re so stuck in THEIR arc, theres no room to balance it out and have a breather, some people might like that its more serious but i really really didnt like, i love episodes like prophecy girl where it is campy and brings the more emotional notes in when the time comes, but dawns whole arc is just constantly depressing the whole time i just hate it, and also just shes not a character i felt i could connect to because of how suddenly shes introduced, so its weird to have her SO focused on in the first half of that season coz we dont know her yet so i feel like the emotional moments dont land the way that they should? basically they shouldve eased us into dawn or introduced her differently and maybe i would like her enough to want the focus on her but i really just dont

adksjakjshd apologies for the essay this is, thanks for the ask!

[itsallavengers]

More Superfamily

For @superhusbandswithasideoffamily <3

As it happened, the fact that their newly adopted son turned out to be enhanced came as a complete surprise to Tony and Steve.

They’d had him two months and three days. A three year old that both Tony and Steve had fallen in love with the moment they’d set eyes on him. He was small and skinny and had the hugest eyes Tony thought he’d ever seen, and a laugh that made his heart want to melt. Although pretty shy at first, when Steve had happened to hit on the right question (’so what’s your favourite thing to do?’), the boy turned out to be passionate and excited and very, very fucking smart.

Yeah. It was a pretty easy decision, in the end.

Signing all the papers and going though all the checks (although- seriously, they were superheroes, did they really need to go through the ‘do you have murderous urges?’ questions?) was totally, utterly worth it to see the look on Peter Parker’s face when he was told he’d get to have a new home with them.

And hell- him coming back with them had probably been one of the happiest days of Tony’s life. For the first time in his life, he had a proper, honest-to-God family. Tony was man enough to admit he’d shed a tear or two.

At least he wasn’t like Steve though. That man took one look at Tony holding Peter at the threshold of the tower and burst straight into tears. (Natasha was going to delete the video of him going up to Steve seconds after and then doing exactly the same thing. He would make sure that footage was never seen by anyone else’s eyes again.)

So yes. Happiness all around. They had a son. They had a son who could speak better than Clint in the mornings and owned a smile that made even Natasha swoon. Generally speaking, Tony was pretty sure he hadn’t stopped smiling for nearly three months. Steve was no better- damn guy looked constantly as if he was about to burst into song.

Of course- because they were superheroes and that was just their life- something had to surprise them out of the blue.

(Read more, mobile users!)

“No, Patrice, there is no way-” Tony sighed as she cut him off yet again, her harried voice carrying down the line and making the headache worse with every note. 

“No! We can’t afford to pull out of the convention this late, it’s a huge...yes, yes, I am fully aware of the- what? That’s ridiculous and you know it, I can’t just-”

Throwing an approximation of his cab fare over to the driver (give or take a hundred) Tony slipped out of the door, grabbing his suitcase as he went and praying the coffee shop just underneath the Avengers tower would be open. He could really do with a caffeine IV- maybe that could be his next big design, parents everywhere would crawl over one another for something like that.

“Look, you can’t change anything, Patrice, the deal is already done,” Tony stopped to button up his coat against the wind, and looked up to the tower where his husband and son were waiting for him. Oh, how he wished his goddamn PR manager would get off the phone so that he could-

He stopped. Squinted his eyes a little. 

Hm. That seemed remarkably like a human figure at the window of...

Tony’s blood ran cold as he went through the floor-plans in his head and realised that was Peter’s room. His heart stopped completely as he jerked forward, ready to override the call and scream for JARVIS through the phone- but then he stopped a moment before the words could leave his mouth, confusion mounting as he managed to pick out the reds and blues of what definitely looked like... Peter’s onezie?

Patrice was still yapping through the line, but Tony had shut her off long ago, stepping forward a few steps and working Peter’s name silently in his mouth as he realised that yes, that was indeed his son hanging from the 89th floor of his tower building.

“Patrice?” He said calmly, “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

The call ended swiftly, and yeah- that was when the screaming began.

“Steve?” Tony connected through to Steve’s cellphone through the line in his suit, which was currently hovering a couple of hundred feet in the air and holding his squirming son firmly between two metal arms, “can I ask you something?”

“Mm hmm,” Steve murmured, and he sounded sleepy- Tony almost felt sorry for him, because he was about to get a rather rude awakening.

He shuffled Peter in his arms a bit, whilst the boy just poked curiously at the mechanisms in Tony’s neck and then hummed in pleasure when Tony knocked up the heated plates on the outside of his suit so that his tiny troublesome child wouldn’t freeze to death whilst hanging in the air. “Why did I just have to tell JARVIS to send my armour through the 2nd story windows so that I could suit up and collect our child from the window of the 89th floor as fast as possible? Why did that happen?”

There was silence down the other line, and then a quiet shuffling noise. “Huh?”

“Peter,” Tony said instead, turning his head down to his son and jigging him a little, “do you want to tell Papa what you were just doing seventeen seconds ago?”

“I was climbing!” Peter said enthusiastically, beaming up at Tony as he leaned in close to his ear, as if he could talk to Steve through there, “I looked outta the window an’ there were loads of birds flying in a flock an’ I wanted to see ‘em so I went outta the window and watched ‘em properly!” 

Another silence. Longer, this time. And then a very sudden, very fast burst of static. Steve was undoubtedly sprinting to Peter’s room, which meant Tony had about 1.2 seconds until the inevitable-

Ah. There it was. 

Not even bothering with the handle- simply yanking the door straight off it’s hinges, Steve bolted into the room with wide, searching eyes. Of course, he saw Tony and Peter just outside the window, hovering patiently. Peter even waved a little when he saw his Papa staring at him.

Steve, bless him, just sort of stood there. Like he didn’t quite know what to do. Although- in all fairness, neither had Tony. There were currently a lot of very confused onlookers beneath him stepping on a lot of very expensive glass.

“So- our child sticks to walls, Steve,” he said helpfully through the speaker, and then gestured to the window just above Steve’s head, “can you let us in please?”

Numbly, Steve pulled the window. Off. He stared at the pane of glass in his hands for a few moments before calmly placing it against the wall.

Tucking Peter in so he didn’t bump his head, Tony crawled through the gap Steve had made for him. Once on solid ground again, he instantly dismantled the suit so that he was holding Peter in his own two arms, clutching the boy tightly into his chest.

When Steve continued to say absolutely jack-all, Tony spoke again. “According to JARVIS, the change in environment, diet and state of living may have triggered some sort of genetic awakening in our son’s body. We’re thinking the X gene, but that has yet to be decided,” he said, nodding. 

“I think I’m having a heart attack.” Steve said, nodding back.

“Yeah, well, you weren’t the one who stepped out of the cab and saw him hanging there.”

“Oh God.”

“Oh God indeed.”

“He was out there-”

“Yep.”

“Just....hanging-”

“Yep.”

“No harness or grip or-”

“Nope.”

Steve stopped. He nodded, raised his eyebrows, and then fainted.

When Steve woke up a few minutes later to Peter bouncing on his chest and Tony sat, cross-legged, with his head in his lap, the first thing he did was swear.

“Child,” Tony pointed to Peter, “you didn’t hear that.”

Steve’s eyes drifted down to the small boy smiling down at him. “Why’d you faint?” He asked curiously. “Fainting usually happens ‘cause of a lack of oxygen to the brain, but your lung capacity is a lot bigger than mine or daddy’s, isn’t it? I was scared- but it’s alright, Daddy told me you’d wake up soon, and you did!”

Steve could help but smile, looking more than a little overwhelmed as his large hands gripped Peter’s shoulder gently. “I’m fine, Peter,” he said.

“Just remember to breathe, maybe,” Tony said, patting his cheek as Steve slowly sat back up, Peter still in his arms.

“So,” Steve said eventually, “In the ‘Good Parent’ chart, where do you think ‘falling asleep on the couch and letting your three year old son climb out of a window on the 89th floor’ would rank?”

“In all fairness, the window in question was about 6 feet above Peter’s head. At the time, neither of us were aware of his apparent rock-climbing skills. I think you can be let off. It’s Peter we have the problem with, here,” Tony rubbed his head in his hand and winced. God, his head hurt.

Peter had been happily fiddling with Steve’s shirtsleeve up until that point, but at those words, he froze up. His eyes widened a little, and he turned to Tony with something like fear on his face. “Daddy? What did I... did I do something bad? Why am I a problem?”

“No, no, baby, not like that! I didn’t- you’re not a problem at all. You’re- you’re perfect, alright?” Tony said hurriedly, hands going out and framing Peter’s worried little face, “you’re just... it turns out you’re a little different than what we thought. You know sticking to things isn’t...average child development?”

Peter’s head cocked a little to the side. “Well, yeah,” he shrugged, “but I can! I didn’t even know I could until I tried it just then! And you can fly- Papa can break really hard things that no one else can. Uncle Bruce turns green and goes massive when he’s angry. I just thought...” he shrugged, looking down and shuffling a little bit, “I just thought it meant I properly belong in your family now.”

“Hey, Petey,” Steve frowned, stroking a hand through Peter’s hair, “you’d belong here whether you had superpowers or not, you know that right? We love you no matter what you are.”

“But- as a general rule, please please please do not ever do that again,” Tony added, shutting his eyes and shuddering, “you nearly gave me and Papa joint heart attacks. Just...stay on the ground for now, okay? Can you promise us that?”

Peter bit his lip. “But I like being up high! And I don’t ever fall, look!” And before either of them even knew what was happening, Peter was wriggling from Steve’s arms and scampering to- no, wait, up- the wall, onto the ceiling, where he just....dangled. Like some sort of child-shaped fruit or- or- 

God, Tony needed a nap.

They both jumped to their feet instantly, arms out, shrieks of horror barely contained as Peter let his arms swing happily, held on by the tips of his toes. Tony had no idea how he was doing that- like some sort of adhesive on his skin or something- but whatever it was, it was fucking terrifying to see for the first time in your three year old son.

“Peter, get down!” Steve said loudly, face paling as he turned to Tony, “he was doing that out of the window?” He hissed incredulously.

Tony tapped at his chest. “I lost 30 years of my life. I will never get them back.”

They didn’t have a chance to say anything else. Steve was too busy grabbing Peter as he leaped off into his arms with a giggle. A strangled sort of noise came out of Steve’s mouth, and Tony stepped forward, ready to grab Peter if Steve fainted again- but he managed to stay upright, just staring at their son with a sort of overwhelmed horror on his face.

“We should probably get him checked out by Bruce. Or Xavier,” Steve said in the end.

Tony nodded, leaning against his shoulder a little, Peter’s hand dropped on his hair, and he felt little fingers tugging at the knots. “Probably.”

Steve sighed, sagging a little. His spare arm wrapped around Tony’s waist and tugged him in. “But not tonight. I think we’ve had enough tonight. Let’s... tomorrow.”

Tony just nodded. “Seconded.”

“Thirded!” Peter called out from Steve’s chest, frowning a little, “I wanna nap.”

Steve looked at the gaping hole where the pane of glass used to be, and blushed a little. “Okay- our room,” he said in the end. 

When Steve moved, his arm tugged Tony along with him, and together they all walked back out of Peter’s room, still slightly shell-shocked.

“Hey Steve,” Clint called out from the couch as they passed through the living room, “do I wanna know why you hightailed it out of the room like the devil was grabbing your ass?”

“My son is adhesive,” Steve answered, and Tony nodded his agreement.

Clint looked at them all for a few seconds, before blinking a few times and turning back to the TV. “Yep,” he said, mostly to himself, “shouldn’t have asked.”

By the time they’d reached their room,  Peter’s eyes were already fluttering shut against Steve’s shoulder. They gently put him down in the middle of the bed, and then stood there and watched him silently.

“How are we going to deal with this?” Steve asked in the end.

Tony just shrugged. “Same way we deal with everything else that’s fucking weird around here. Just run with it. Because we’re superheroes and all, in my opinion, slightly unhinged.”

Steve spared one last glance at their now peacefully dozing son, and then unfolded his arms. “Let’s sleep,” he declared.

“Ah, yes, perfect,” Tony started slipping down into the bed immediately, toeing off his shoes as he went, “the best solution to all problems. I love the way you think, darling.”

Steve didn’t say anything- just slipped back under the covers and reached out for Tony across Peter’s head. His hand pressed around the nape of Tony’s neck and squeezed, pulling him in a little to place a kiss against his forehead. “At least he’s not still jumping around on the outside of the tower” he said, thumb stroking across Tony’s cheekbone.

Tony gave a thumbs up. “Oh, how blessed we are, our son was only dangling hundreds of feet above ground for a few minutes, rather than ten,” he said wryly, letting his head drop into Steve’s throat.

Wordlessly, Steve’s gentle fingers came up and pressed against the sides of Tony’s temples, rubbing softly and relieving the pressure in the way only he knew how to do. Tony gave a soft noise of pleasure, and Steve peppered feather-light lips across his face as his fingers worked. “Just sleep” he heard Steve say, “we can deal with this in the morning.” 

Tony laughed again and glanced down at Peter, curled up in the middle of them and looking peaceful as ever. His hand absently brushed across the boy’s face before he could help himself, but luckily Peter didn’t wake- just sniffed a little and scratched his nose. 

“I’m the luckiest man on the whole damn planet,” Tony breathed quietly, looking up to Steve.

He smiled softly, thumb tracing Tony’s lip for a moment before shutting his eyes. “You’ll have t’fight me for that title,” he murmured.

Tony’s head was still throbbing a little, and his heart probably wouldn’t go back to a normal rate for at least a week after that scare- but he didn’t care. It was all going to be so, so worth it. It already was. He had Steve. He had Peter, He really didn’t need anything else. Take away everything else and he’d still be the happiest man alive. 

Even if his husband was over ninety years old and his son appeared to share traits with glue. It was fine. Just another day in the life.

Tony wouldn’t trade it for the universe.

He smiled, and fell asleep with one hand entwined with Steve’s and one wrapped around his son’s waist.

[the-little-red-noodle]

4/10/17 9:14pm

Hey stranger, don’t you miss the day?

We don’t do the same drugs no more..

I’ve been thinking a lot about Harrison lately. it comes in waves, it has since we broke up. usually its because im feeling unsatisfied. it happened when i wasn’t feeling too into eli, and it happens when i feel let down by ryan. i feel unsupported and unsatisfied, and then i start comparing him to harrison, and its just sad.

I think the difference I’m feeling between Harry and Ryan is need. With Ryan, I don’t feel needed. Sometimes, I don’t even feel wanted. 

Harrison made me feel so special and wanted and needed. he was warm to me and called me pet names and gave me compliments all the time. i didnt need to fucking ask.. sometimes with ryan i feel so insecure that i ask him if he loves me, or how i look or anything. jesus just give me something..

i feel unsatisfied and i tell him so often but nothing changes. i tell him how i need more from him. i need more support. i need him to be interested enough in me to ask how my day was. i need someone to reassure me without me needing to ask. i need someone who will take two seconds to tell me i look nice or that they love me or anything reassuring in a romantic way. i know we’re good friends. i know we work as friends, we had been for years.

maybe thats the difference with harry, we were never really just friends. we hung out because we had a thing for each other and were in active pursuit to be with each other. ryan and i evolved into a relationship, and that just inherently carries different weight. when we were just friends, i didn’t have a thing for him. i loved him, but i wasn’t lusting after him. our friendship was super plutonic and never crossed any lines until we started crushing on each other. 

lately, ive been thinking about harrison more often because thats where my mind goes when im at a loss with ryan. when i make so many attempts to be more intimately close to him and he either doesn’t let me in, or there is no in. 

In my therapy session today i talked about these feelings and about how harrison was at times overstimulating, but in a good way. he was a flamboyant funny actor guy, so we had a good capacity to have creative and intense conversations. lately i find myself having to fight ryan to talk to me in the smallest of abstract ways. 

What kind of fancy restaurant appetizer am I? If I were a gambling game what would it be?

I try the “what’s on your mind?” and that almost always gets me nowhere. I keep fighting because jesus i just want to connect with you and you hardly give me anything. sometimes i feel like thats just because ryan is naturally simpler than harrison was. he’s a no drama zone. he has minor annoyances and things he’s really passionate about, but he rarely causes drama, or does anything really scandalous. In a lot of ways, I like this about him. its a mature quality and makes me feel comfortable that he’s not going to randomly start fights with me or blow up about much. he hardly gets pent up about bad days or stupid people.

i like when people rant to me in a passionate manner. its interesting and connecting. ryan really loves his esports stuff and he’ll rant about that if i ask, but its not really anything i can relate to, so the conversation is fairly one sided..

I just crave a more intimate relationship with ryan, and it feels one sided in that pursuit. i feel like he is satisfied enough with where we’re at; kinda living together, talking about marriage sometimes, having similar interests.. idk.. that is good, and i like us, i just want more. and then i feel guilty for getting so upset when he never does anything wrong. the worst he does is sometimes word things in a kind of insensitive way? but then i question about it and usually clear it up.

idk. im just feeling unsatisfied. and its usually when im not getting enough from a relationship when i start thinking about and comparing to past relationships. usually its harrison, because that was the closest relationship I’d had. Today, I want to be as close to ryan if not closer than i felt to harrison. i want to be over that, but sometimes, like right now, i feel at a loss. 

im a needy person. i own up to it, i am. i have baggage, i have needs, i need reassurance almost constantly.. i dont feel like im getting that.. i just want to feel like he’s interested in me and feels intimate with me, and being long distant again probably doesnt help that when he’s kinda busy.. i just need more right now..

Hey, can we talk?

I just started a game, do you need me?

Nvm.

[frankthomas090-blog]

abby winter yoga - The New Angle On Abby Winters Lesbian Porn Just Released

In town for a bit on business, he wants to have some casual fun. 5 inches and THICK- his emphasis. Hes at the top end of length for my preference, but self describing it as thick got my attention. Sometimes theres just an instant connection or chemistry, drawing you in so fast with a new person you just kind of dance around the usual screening process.

Described his cock as 7. Average height, better than average build, green eyes. Hes my age, 31, but with the right combination of personality and body- I can look past it. Gimme that thick dick. This Ginger was respectful and straight to the point from the get-go on Plenty of Fish. Hes former Army- he had a pic up in his dress uniform. He sends me his number, we text briefly, and make the plan to meet that same day.

I appreciated his ability to be direct without being rude or vulgar. I like em young and hung! Also, I give it a 95% hes well endowed- orange is the new Black. At no point did he ask for nudes, or ask endless intimate questions- I give it a 50/50 chance of being a satisfactory encounter given our lack of communication beforehand, but I cant resist a Ginger to save my life.

He passed with flying colors. Im telling you, this isnt rocket science. I feel my lady business respond immediately. In our very brief texting we went over our Dos and Donts, as well as both agreeing we like aggressive AND passionate sex. Dont ever forget that.

The way hes kissing me I can already tell this will likely be a very good encounter. " Its early afternoon, what a great way to spend it. Upon his arrival I am freshly showered, bed is made, and Im wearing t-shirt that says "MEETS OR EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS. He sits next to me, we awkwardly exchange hellos, and then he moves right in to kissing me. Not overly eager, not sloppy, makes you want it right meow.

Hes not pushing my body down while shoving his tongue down my throat. He starts lifting up my shirt after pawing me and groping for the goodies- having discovered my nipples are pierced and briefly sucking them, its time for layers to come off.

He peels his layers off as Im taking mine off and comes right back to mauling me so expertly I couldnt resist. Hes kissing me like hes excited to see me, and hes real good at it. Hes maneuvering me onto my back while he takes a top position.

Moving his head lower he pulls my panties off but with such reckless abandon theyre still on my left leg. Good kissers are also known to be good lovers, from my observation. Youre taking your clothes off, too. I dont recognize the alphabet hes writing, maybe its Spanish.

The moment he kisses my thighs its all over. His eagerness to put his mouth on my slit is palpable. He didnt just dive face first into my nonsense salad- first he ran his tongue up my outer labia on both sides and it felt soft and gentle and GIVE ME MORE. Fuck God sounds totally different when Im cumming and yelling nonsense. Right around now is where I learned Im actually bilingual, but whatever language I was stuttering out can only be whispered or shouted; theres no in between.

Oh my god hes licking my asshole- I have sex Tourettes. Do you think Jesus and God can tell youre not swearing AT them? he pushes my legs up and licks up and down, then just down. I can barely take it, stretched to maximum capacity for comfort, and even then hes mildly uncomfortably large. And it consists mostly of very short, hostile sounding 4 letter words.

DONT STOP, DONT STOP, DONT STOP. Once he was done tracing and teasing I felt the warm, wet touch of his whole mouth open around my clitoris, moving his tongue in ways I cant imagine or describe. Holding my body close to his and pushing his hips up into me, my limbs instinctively wrap around him like a slutty octopus. His length is perfectly spot on- any longer and he just wouldve www.abby winters.com been too much.

GOD DAMN YOU HAVE A BIG DICK. Pushing my limits for size, I question if my lungs have enough room to inflate fully while hes all the way inside. Id put him right around 7 inches in length, my preference being 6.

With my pelvis lifted to the right level, hed shove his tongue in me as my insides start to contract with the orgasm. Literally cumming on his tongue. For sure hes wearing the biggest condom commercially manufactured, or a trash bag. My hips would buck but his arms would find their way around them and hold them in place, while my legs stretched upward trying to walk on the ceiling. We didnt transition out of missionary, he sat up and spread my legs wide while plunging into me with force and conviction.

He rolls on a condom and pushes himself inside me- my eyes rolled back so far I saw memories from my childhood. I sound maybe like a dying rabbit as my fingers pull his short hair and hold his head firmly in place. I didnt keep count, I was much too busy screaming his praises to the Gods.

He gets his and we collapse away from each other. As soon as I begin to cum, back go the legs, down goes the head, and hed ride my climax on his face. When I would start to climax, hed withdraw quickly and push my legs up around my head. He puts his underwear back on and Im guessing hes leaving now, sad times, but then he hops back onto the bed and I take the opportunity to snuggle up into his armpit and touch on his body while I bask in the afterglow.

He does this for every single orgasm. Im wrapped around him and mostly content. I cant get my mouth around it right, my hand doesnt wrap around it. Its awkward to handle, do I need a license? I feel like my certs are out of date because this newfangled cocktraption is just outside of my scope of experience.

Good Lord, who taught you to do that? I gift him my mouth because hes more than earned it. I could definitely go for more, but hes not some 20-something with endless stamina. He pounds away at me from different positions, I like him behind me because I like his stroke and how he braces himself by holding my hips down. Clearly he gets most of his satisfaction from pleasing his lady.

Im not going to argue, and somebody has been listening to my thoughts and dreams again because this man was made in a fucking lab just for me. The sun goes down around 4pm right now so thats not a good indicator either. what even is time, man. Im amused I come across that way- Im all about those afterglow cuddles.

Between our rounds we break for cuddles and snuggles- he confesses he assumed, from my profile on PoF, that he was to go after the first round and I wasnt much for affection or cuddling afterward. He enjoys the cuddles too, and doesnt like to just leave after a hookup unless thats her preference. Please me you thick dick Georgia peach!

Take care of your partner after you fuck them. He enjoys my head game but it just makes him want to fuck me. He gets off twice more and I have no idea how much time has passed. HOLD MEEEEEEEEEEE, pet my hair and tell me Im pretty. Fool I dont get to round 3 very often with men in their supposed prime, so whos more thrilled! Hes an intuitive partner and he reads my cues very well, plus he just wants to bring me all the pleasure.

Apparently he doesnt get to round 3 very often, and hes kind of thrilled about it. His size is intimidating and hes more shaped for vaginal feel goods. I like how he lays it down, and I like anal with the right partner. He admits hes never been able to have anal successfully, and I can understand why.

The way hes shaped, getting the head in is not the hard part- he gest wider towards the middle and base, like a fucking road cone. I dont doubt that hell follow my lead and respect my signals if things get too intense. The last time things started heating up Im on my belly and hes pressing the head of his monster cock on my asshole- Im doing word problems in my head about the likelihood of this being a good idea or not.

He apologizes for cumming too soon- I had to hold back my school girl giggle. He flipped me over and fucked me hard up until I told him to say my magic words. What a dear, sweet lover. He actually thought he owed me an apology after our FOURTH consecutive romp. Tell me you love fucking me. Ive got shit to do as well. 10/10 would fuck again.

I tell him point-blank Id like to see him again before he leaves, he happily agrees. We were unable to make it happen, he was just too big and we didnt do enough warmup, but I took about half of him before tapping out. He texts me asking what my plans are for the evening, as hed like abby winters galleries to grab a couple of beers and a late dinner.

Fast forward 24 hours. When posed with options like this, I always ask WHY NOT BOTH? I tell him Im going to shower and meet him at the restaurant bar near his hotel, he instructs me to bring my lube. I dont really do compromises. Or I could come over to his hotel room after and he could just fuck my brains out all night.

Maybe Id like to join him? In the time it took me to excitedly shower and keelhaul the warts off my body, my phone starts showing notifications of other interested men folk. The words fall out of his mouth and he explodes seconds later, to his own surprise. why end with a OR when theres always an AND?

He tells me I cant miss him at the restaurant bar- hes wearing a cowboy hat. (You thought that hyperlink went to the movie reference, didntcha? CANT TALK NOW, THICKEST DICK EVER WANTS TO TAKE ME TO POUND TOWN! Oh goody, I know what Im wearing later. Can honestly say hes a good one.

Test me, Ive got true grit. ) The company was great, hes fun to talk to. Cleaned up, its time for him to go he has things to do. As were leaving I ask how many Magnum XL condoms he has- he says 4. He confesses he doesnt generally have his lady spend the night because hes very affectionate and waking up next to someone hes spent the better part of the night pleasing, can lead to him having feelings.

We need to buy more, STAT. I feel like a teenager again. We talk about our kids, divorce, he tells me about his previous military experience, and what hes doing now. Rolling into Wal-Mart at that hour, with giant shit-eating grins on our faces, buying only condoms.

You think youre big, you aint big until you must have custom condoms. I get what youre saying, were gonna fool around and then I gotta GTFO. Sexy Ginger man with a good head on his shoulders and giant cock, somebody please snatch this man up quick haha or dont, and let him keep sharing that beautiful endowment with all the ladies.

Back to the hotel room, we barely make it to the bed and hes on me. Details from here are fuzzy, but he went down for ages and we fucked around in every position. Dont get it twisted; theres approximately 10 million condoms in my purse, but they wouldnt fit him. Remember, if youre hard to size on either end of the spectrum theres a UK company called TheyFit that you can enter your measurements into and theyll get you fitted with one of their 66 sizes.

We took a smoke break before trying www.abby winters yoga abby winters.com (linked site) again, and he tells me hes half Mexican. This perfect Ginger man is also a beaner. He was made just for me. While he was behind me licking and sucking my clit, shoving his tongue inside my pussy and my asshole, I hear the top of the lube bottle click. At some point I wore his Stetson when we come back inside, naked.

He positions himself at the backdoor and gently adds pressure until I whimper or tense up. Working together slowly, gently, following my vocal cues I take him to the base. Pushed to the hilt we pause. Its more than mildly uncomfortable, but if we take it slow itll feel great.

I can feel it cold and slippery, then hear him stroking it on himself. I swear to Kylie Minogue I cant make this stuff up. Im a little drunk- 3 drinks on a mostly empty stomach, Ill sit on your lap and call you Daddy if you want. He picks up the pace, we start talking dirty to each other. I have not been quiet at all during any of this, but now Im incapable of controlling the primal animal noises Im bleating into the bedding.

He was having some performance issues but was bound and determined to make sure I enjoyed our time as much as possible. I can feel him shaking a bit, hes going to cum soon. Its late, the booze and orgasms are sedating me.

Hes down close on me, wrapping his big hands around mine, entwining our fingers, crossing arms under my chin as he grinds into me. I tell him to withdraw slowly. I wake up hazily to roll over and his arms find their way around me again, hes a perfect big spoon. After several loud, amazing orgasms, he gets down close and pushes himself inside me all at once.

Rocking into me Im wrapped around him in my koala hug. Hes holding me and Im lost in it. I awake fully to him sliding down the bed, tossing my right leg over and burying his face in my morning pussy. Digging my fingers into his back and pulling his short hair, I dont want it to end. Im cold and reach for a sheet, he covers us immediately and Im back out like a light.

He slows down but hes plunging into me with the kind of force and quivering body that lets me know its now. Pushing my skirt up, pulling my panties to the side, he takes my box in his mouth and I hold on for dear life, staring up at the mirrored ceiling I get to watch myself almost cum in his mouth.

Morning sex was more passionate, and a bit briefer. Hes even kissing me with my dragon breath. We havent even hit the floor button yet. When we get to the ground floor we smoke together outside, recap our enjoyment with each other. My back hurts from how he so violently throws my legs back to eat my pussy while Im cumming, both my pussy and asshole are recovering from their respective stretching and beating, and Im walking on a broken toe.

We get dressed together, and he goes to walk me out but as soon as the elevator door closed he dropped to his knees. He tells me after two days with me, he wont be able to fuck for a week. God damn that was good. He reaches up, hits L, and continues his works. 10/10 would fuck any time. I am completely satisfied. This will happen one week from now, when he has free time again.

I scamper home to sit on frozen bags of peas, pound water, and cuddle all my pillows. tt/2i9A4Cy /u/DDfnord Link is directly to this story http://ift. This entry on my sex blog has hyperlinks, if youd like to see it in full I write on WordPress and the blog name is All The Dicks.

[misplacedmelancholy]

cowardice, courage

it’s not a rash decision.. it is something that’s been festering in my mind and life the past 3 years, and my state of mind has just been deteriorating increasingly, because im STILL here. i want to stop being passive, stop doing smth which had been a consequence of ill decision making and which i hadnt had the will to terminate. somehow i had fooled my mum into believing this is a worthy path, because im the one who’s enabling this waste of time and her money.

i know where the problem lies: curriculum is shit and i get no concrete value from this education. yes i shouldve been done with it by now, but that’s just not what has happened, my inability to “just get this over and done with” in itself proves my desperation in wanting, but not being able to move on. most significantly, the ennui ive been experiencing is corroding my self worth. knowing the problem, knowing how it’s impacting my well being, knowing the source of my misery, yet having done nothing to help myself out of it.

what happens when im finally done with it, 8000$ + exam fees later, with a (low level) degree i never was invested in? i literally won’t even use it because i know what i want to pursue seriously and “professionally”. it will be useless, and i would have had subject myself to unimaginable inner torment to get there. i say unimaginable bc currently im in the worst state ive ever been (stopped experiencing “recovery” or “betterment”) and i just know it will worsen when school term starts. i can’t even stand the thought of repeating whatever it is we did in school, all over again. i dont wanna lose myself to this.

“find a job first and do what u want later” that’s what my fam says, they’re not the ones who have found a keen interest in things, or a passion for something. (i mean they’re not even liberals) they’re a product of societal conditioning, inactivated self awareness or just not utilised, and i dont want to be just that, esp since i am /the/ rebel in the fam. even in the context of an absurd world and futility, i know what excites me, what gives me vitality, i know what i advocate for, why have i not started doing things for myself and my own life? i want to live for the arts and for moments of connection.

i believe ive met with enough ppl in not just the arts scene, to see the different kinds of realities they live, and these are the ppl i wanna learn from. i have an honest idea of this kind of life, and im ready to live with it if i find myself in similar situations. ive told some of them that i admire them, and ive been given advice. i dont want to meet these ppl 1 year later, and have them tell me the same things. if there’s anything ive gained over these past few months, it’s that i need to stop being an observer, stop doing things i like as a distraction, but take them and myself seriously.

i know all this sounds idealistic and prob unimaginable for u, but ive seen it and i want to make it happen for myself. i can and will do so many things, amanda. right now i wanna be admitted to an arts program, bach or diploma undecided, so i need to read up on requirements, which require a portfolio. ill start looking thru what ive amassed, put some things together- photo series, text, short clips. produce some new things based on ideas ive had, submit to zines and publications, enter photography competitions, volunteer at events (alr signed up for one in nov, singapore writers festival). pick up my dslr again coz i haven’t had the capacity to do it recently. work more shifts at suntec temporarily (to at least pay my phone bills coz my mum says she’ll stop once i graduate so it’s the same), begin to experience the unemployed millenial life. i can look for some other contract jobs (im looking to work at the projector but ill need to work on my portfolio first). i do know some ppl already, and there are always opportunities floating around (lots of open calls). i just need to take this first step. yes ill prob be a failure to my mum, family, whoever, but at least i know ill be doing smth i want, amanda. not just waiting for smth i don’t want to face to be over. ill feel better, at least. and i i don’t know when else i would if not now.

the catalyst for this decision really was a long conversation i had with my friend on friday. he knew id been delaying the checking of my results, and before he left he just casually mentioned “u haven’t checked ur results right”, and i said yes i have. i said ill prob be more depressive once term starts, (we’ve talked abt this before) he said he really thinks i ought to do smth abt it, and i became silent and he sensed smth was amiss and then he talked to me for a loong while. i got a stress headache coz its just difficult. one of the things he asked was “what hurts you the most?” i couldn’t answer so he gave me 3 options: family, self worth, (forgot the last one lol), and i said self worth. this past weekend everything here was all i thought abt (cried, obviously), and ytd i texted him (while at an exhbition): “i realise a big part of my cowardice has been towards my mum. the first step i need to take is putting myself somewhere i want to be, knowing that she has stopped having faith in me and cant support me. it’s what hurts me the most”

[lucyloyd4856-blog]

Effective ways to Discover Tranquility And also Go to Peace

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[priscillagrrr]

Essay on Man, by Alexander Pope (my favorite book)

The Project Gutenberg eBook, Essay on Man, by Alexander Pope, Edited by Henry Morley This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Essay on Man       Moral Essays and Satires Author: Alexander Pope Editor: Henry Morley Release Date: August 20, 2007  [eBook #2428] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAY ON MAN***

AN ESSAY ON MAN.

TO H. ST. JOHN LORD BOLINGBROKE. THE DESIGN.

Having proposed to write some pieces of Human Life and Manners, such as (to use my Lord Bacon’s expression) come home to Men’s Business and Bosoms, I thought it more satisfactory to begin with considering Man in the abstract, his Nature and his State; since, to prove any moral duty, to enforce any moral precept, or to examine the perfection or imperfection of any creature whatsoever, it is necessary first to know what condition and relation it is placed in, and what is the proper end and purpose of its being.

The science of Human Nature is, like all other sciences, reduced to a few clear points: there are not many certain truths in this world.  It is therefore in the anatomy of the Mind as in that of the Body; more good will accrue to mankind by attending to the large, open, and perceptible parts, than by studying too much such finer nerves and vessels, the conformations and uses of which will for ever escape our observation.  The disputes are all upon these last, and, I will venture to say, they have less sharpened the wits than the hearts of men against each other, and have diminished the practice more than advanced the theory of Morality.  If I could flatter myself that this Essay has any merit, it is in steering betwixt the extremes of doctrines seemingly opposite, in passing over terms utterly unintelligible, and in forming a temperate yet not inconsistent, and a short yet not imperfect system of Ethics.

This I might have done in prose, but I chose verse, and even rhyme, for two reasons.  The one will appear obvious; that principles, maxims, or precepts so written, both strike the reader more strongly at first, and are more easily retained by him afterwards: the other may seem odd, but is true, I found I could express them more shortly this way than in prose itself; and nothing is more certain, than that much of the force as well as grace of arguments or instructions depends on their conciseness.  I was unable to treat this part of my subject more in detail, without becoming dry and tedious; or more poetically, without sacrificing perspicuity to ornament, without wandering from the precision, or breaking the chain of reasoning: if any man can unite all these without diminution of any of them I freely confess he will compass a thing above my capacity.

What is now published is only to be considered as a general Map of Man, marking out no more than the greater parts, their extent, their limits, and their connection, and leaving the particular to be more fully delineated in the charts which are to follow.  Consequently, these Epistles in their progress (if I have health and leisure to make any progress) will be less dry, and more susceptible of poetical ornament.  I am here only opening the fountains, and clearing the passage.  To deduce the rivers, to follow them in their course, and to observe their effects, may be a task more agreeable.  P.

ARGUMENT OF EPISTLE I.

Of the Nature and State of Man, with respect to the Universe.

Of Man in the abstract.  I. That we can judge only with regard to our own system, being ignorant of the relations of systems and things, v.17, etc.  II. 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.35, etc.  III. 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.77, etc.  IV. The pride of aiming at more knowledge, and pretending to more Perfection, the cause of Man’s error and misery.  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.109, etc.  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.131, etc.  VI. 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.173, etc.  VII. 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.207. VIII. 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.233.  IX.  The extravagance, madness, and pride of such a desire, v.250.  X. The consequence of all, the absolute submission due to Providence, both as to our present and future state, v.281, etc., to the end.

EPISTLE I.

Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things To low ambition, and the pride of kings. Let us (since life can little more supply Than just to look about us and to die) Expatiate free o’er all this scene of man; A mighty maze! but not without a plan; A wild, where weeds and flowers promiscuous shoot; Or garden tempting with forbidden fruit. Together let us beat this ample field, Try what the open, what the covert yield; The latent tracts, the giddy heights, explore Of all who blindly creep, or sightless soar; Eye Nature’s walks, shoot Folly as it flies, And catch the manners living as they rise; Laugh where we must, be candid where we can; But vindicate the ways of God to man.

I.  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? Through worlds unnumbered though the God be known, ’Tis ours to trace Him only in our own. 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? or can a part contain the whole?   Is the great chain, that draws all to agree, And drawn supports, upheld by God, or thee?

II.  Presumptuous man! the reason wouldst thou find, Why formed so weak, so little, and so blind? 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? Or ask of yonder argent fields above, Why Jove’s satellites are less than Jove?   Of systems possible, if ’tis confest That wisdom infinite must form the best, Where all must full or not coherent be, And all that rises, rise in due degree; Then in the scale of reasoning life, ’tis plain, There must be, somewhere, such a rank as man: And all the question (wrangle e’er so long) Is only this, if God has placed him wrong?   Respecting man, whatever wrong we call, May, must be right, as relative to all. In human works, though laboured on with pain, A thousand movements scarce one purpose gain; In God’s one single can its end produce; Yet serves to second too some other use. So man, who here seems principal alone, Perhaps acts second to some sphere unknown, Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal; ’Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.   When the proud steed shall know why man restrains His fiery course, or drives him o’er the plains: When the dull ox, why now he breaks the clod, Is now a victim, and now Egypt’s god: Then shall man’s pride and dulness comprehend His actions’, passions’, being’s, use and end; Why doing, suffering, checked, impelled; and why This hour a slave, the next a deity.   Then say not man’s imperfect, Heaven in fault; Say rather man’s as perfect as he ought: His knowledge measured to his state and place; His time a moment, and a point his space. 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.

III.  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! kindly given, That each may fill the circle, marked by Heaven: Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall, Atoms or systems into ruin hurled, And now a bubble burst, and now a world.   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! whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears Him in the wind; His soul, proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk, or milky way; Yet simple Nature to his hope has given, Behind the cloud-topped hill, an humbler heaven; Some safer world in depth of woods embraced, Some happier island in the watery waste, Where slaves once more their native land behold, No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold. To be, contents his natural desire, He asks no angel’s wing, no seraph’s fire; But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company.

IV.  Go, wiser thou! and, in thy scale of sense, Weigh thy opinion against providence; Call imperfection what thou fanciest such, Say, here He gives too little, there too much; Destroy all creatures for thy sport or gust, Yet cry, if man’s unhappy, God’s unjust; If man alone engross not Heaven’s high care, Alone made perfect here, immortal there: Snatch from His hand the balance and the rod, Re-judge His justice, be the God of God. 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.

V.  Ask for what end the heavenly bodies shine, Earth for whose use?  Pride answers, “’Tis for mine: For me kind Nature wakes her genial power, Suckles each herb, and spreads out every flower; Annual for me, the grape, the rose renew The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew; For me, the mine a thousand treasures brings; For me, health gushes from a thousand springs; Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise; My footstool earth, my canopy the skies.”   But errs not Nature from this gracious end, From burning suns when livid deaths descend, When earthquakes swallow, or when tempests sweep Towns to one grave, whole nations to the deep? “No, (’tis replied) the first Almighty Cause Acts not by partial, but by general laws; The exceptions few; some change since all began; And what created perfect?”—Why then man? If the great end be human happiness, Then Nature deviates; and can man do less? As much that end a constant course requires Of showers and sunshine, as of man’s desires; As much eternal springs and cloudless skies, As men for ever temperate, calm, and wise. If plagues or earthquakes break not Heaven’s design, Why then a Borgia, or a Catiline? Who knows but He, whose hand the lightning forms, Who heaves old ocean, and who wings the storms; Pours fierce ambition in a Cæsar’s mind, Or turns young Ammon loose to scourge mankind? 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.

VI.  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? Or touch, if tremblingly alive all o’er, To smart and agonize at every pore? 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?

VII.  Far as Creation’s ample range extends, The scale of sensual, mental powers ascends: Mark how it mounts, to man’s imperial race, From the green myriads in the peopled grass: What modes of sight betwixt each wide extreme, The mole’s dim curtain, and the lynx’s beam: Of smell, the headlong lioness between, And hound sagacious on the tainted green: Of hearing, from the life that fills the flood, To that which warbles through the vernal wood: The spider’s touch, how exquisitely fine! 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! ’Twixt that, and reason, what a nice barrier, For ever separate, yet for ever near! 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?

VIII.  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! how deep extend below? Vast chain of being! which from God began, Natures ethereal, human, angel, man, Beast, bird, fish, insect, what no eye can see, No glass can reach; from Infinite to thee, From thee to nothing.  On superior powers Were we to press, inferior might on ours: Or in the full creation leave a void, Where, one step broken, the great scale’s destroyed: From Nature’s chain whatever link you strike, Tenth or ten thousandth, breaks the chain alike.   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. Let earth unbalanced from her orbit fly, Planets and suns run lawless through the sky; Let ruling angels from their spheres be hurled, Being on being wrecked, and world on world; Heaven’s whole foundations to their centre nod, And nature tremble to the throne of God. All this dread order break—for whom? for thee? Vile worm!—Oh, madness! pride! impiety!

IX.  What if the foot, ordained the dust to tread, Or hand, to toil, aspired to be the head? What if the head, the eye, or ear repined To serve mere engines to the ruling mind? Just as absurd for any part to claim To be another, in this general frame: Just as absurd, to mourn the tasks or pains, The great directing Mind of All ordains.   All are but parts of one stupendous whole, Whose body Nature is, and God the soul; That, changed through all, and yet in all the same; Great in the earth, as in the ethereal frame; Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees, Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent; Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart: As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, As the rapt seraph that adores and burns: To him no high, no low, no great, no small; He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.

X.  Cease, then, nor order imperfection name: Our proper bliss depends on what we blame. Know thy own point: this kind, this due degree Of blindness, weakness, Heaven bestows on thee. Submit.  In this, or any other sphere, Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear: Safe in the hand of one disposing Power, Or in the natal, or the mortal hour. All nature is but art, unknown to thee; All chance, direction, which thou canst not see; All discord, harmony not understood; All partial evil, universal good: And, spite of pride in erring reason’s spite, One truth is clear, whatever is, is right.

ARGUMENT OF EPISTLE II.

Of the Nature and State of Man with respect to Himself, as an Individual.

I. The business of Man not to pry into God, but to study himself.  His Middle Nature; his Powers and Frailties, v.1 to 19. The Limits of his Capacity, v.19, etc.  II. The two Principles of Man, Self-love and Reason, both necessary, v.53, etc. Self-love the stronger, and why, v.67, etc.  Their end the same, v.81, etc.  III. The Passions, and their use, v.93 to 130.  The predominant Passion, and its force, v.132 to 160.  Its Necessity, in directing Men to different purposes, v.165, etc.  Its providential Use, in fixing our Principle, and ascertaining our Virtue, v.177.  IV. Virtue and Vice joined in our mixed Nature; the limits near, yet the things separate and evident: What is the Office of Reason, v.202 to 216.  V. How odious Vice in itself, and how we deceive ourselves into it, v.217.  VI. That, however, the Ends of Providence and general Good are answered in our Passions and Imperfections, v.238, etc.  How usefully these are distributed to all Orders of Men, v.241.  How useful they are to Society, v.251.  And to the Individuals, v.263. In every state, and every age of life, v.273, etc.

EPISTLE II.

I.  Know, then, thyself, presume not God to scan; The proper study of mankind is man. Placed on this isthmus of a middle state, A being darkly wise, and rudely great: With too much knowledge for the sceptic side, With too much weakness for the stoic’s pride, He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest; In doubt to deem himself a god, or beast; In doubt his mind or body to prefer; Born but to die, and reasoning but to err; Alike in ignorance, his reason such, Whether he thinks too little, or too much: Chaos of thought and passion, all confused; Still by himself abused, or disabused; Created half to rise, and half to fall; Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all; Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled: The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!   Go, wondrous creature! mount where science guides, Go, measure earth, weigh air, and state the tides; Instruct the planets in what orbs to run, Correct old time, and regulate the sun; Go, soar with Plato to th’ empyreal sphere, To the first good, first perfect, and first fair; Or tread the mazy round his followers trod, And quitting sense call imitating God; As Eastern priests in giddy circles run, And turn their heads to imitate the sun. Go, teach Eternal Wisdom how to rule— Then drop into thyself, and be a fool!   Superior beings, when of late they saw A mortal man unfold all Nature’s law, Admired such wisdom in an earthly shape And showed a Newton as we show an ape.   Could he, whose rules the rapid comet bind, Describe or fix one movement of his mind? Who saw its fires here rise, and there descend, Explain his own beginning, or his end? Alas, what wonder! man’s superior part Unchecked may rise, and climb from art to art; But when his own great work is but begun, What reason weaves, by passion is undone. Trace Science, then, with Modesty thy guide; First strip off all her equipage of pride; Deduct what is but vanity or dress, Or learning’s luxury, or idleness; Or tricks to show the stretch of human brain, Mere curious pleasure, or ingenious pain; Expunge the whole, or lop th’ excrescent parts Of all our vices have created arts; Then see how little the remaining sum, Which served the past, and must the times to come!

II.  Two principles in human nature reign; Self-love to urge, and reason, to restrain; Nor this a good, nor that a bad we call, Each works its end, to move or govern all And to their proper operation still, Ascribe all good; to their improper, ill. Self-love, the spring of motion, acts the soul; Reason’s comparing balance rules the whole. Man, but for that, no action could attend, And but for this, were active to no end: Fixed like a plant on his peculiar spot, To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot; Or, meteor-like, flame lawless through the void, Destroying others, by himself destroyed. Most strength the moving principle requires; Active its task, it prompts, impels, inspires. Sedate and quiet the comparing lies, Formed but to check, deliberate, and advise. Self-love still stronger, as its objects nigh; Reason’s at distance, and in prospect lie: That sees immediate good by present sense; Reason, the future and the consequence. Thicker than arguments, temptations throng. At best more watchful this, but that more strong. The action of the stronger to suspend, Reason still use, to reason still attend. Attention, habit and experience gains; Each strengthens reason, and self-love restrains. Let subtle schoolmen teach these friends to fight, More studious to divide than to unite; And grace and virtue, sense and reason split, With all the rash dexterity of wit. Wits, just like fools, at war about a name, Have full as oft no meaning, or the same. Self-love and reason to one end aspire, Pain their aversion, pleasure their desire; But greedy that, its object would devour, This taste the honey, and not wound the flower: Pleasure, or wrong or rightly understood, Our greatest evil, or our greatest good.

III.  Modes of self-love the passions we may call; ’Tis real good, or seeming, moves them all: But since not every good we can divide, And reason bids us for our own provide; Passions, though selfish, if their means be fair, List under Reason, and deserve her care; Those, that imparted, court a nobler aim, Exalt their kind, and take some virtue’s name.   In lazy apathy let stoics boast Their virtue fixed; ’tis fixed as in a frost; Contracted all, retiring to the breast; But strength of mind is exercise, not rest: The rising tempest puts in act the soul, Parts it may ravage, but preserves the whole. On life’s vast ocean diversely we sail, Reason the card, but passion is the gale; Nor God alone in the still calm we find, He mounts the storm, and walks upon the wind.   Passions, like elements, though born to fight, Yet, mixed and softened, in his work unite: These, ’tis enough to temper and employ; But what composes man, can man destroy? Suffice that Reason keep to Nature’s road, Subject, compound them, follow her and God. Love, hope, and joy, fair pleasure’s smiling train, Hate, fear, and grief, the family of pain, These mixed with art, and to due bounds confined, Make and maintain the balance of the mind; The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife Gives all the strength and colour of our life. Pleasures are ever in our hands or eyes; And when in act they cease, in prospect rise: Present to grasp, and future still to find, The whole employ of body and of mind. All spread their charms, but charm not all alike; On different senses different objects strike; Hence different passions more or less inflame, As strong or weak, the organs of the frame; And hence once master passion in the breast, Like Aaron’s serpent, swallows up the rest.   As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath Receives the lurking principle of death; The young disease that must subdue at length, Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength: So, cast and mingled with his very frame, The mind’s disease, its ruling passion came; Each vital humour which should feed the whole, Soon flows to this, in body and in soul: Whatever warms the heart, or fills the head, As the mind opens, and its functions spread, Imagination plies her dangerous art, And pours it all upon the peccant part.   Nature its mother, habit is its nurse; Wit, spirit, faculties, but make it worse; Reason itself but gives it edge and power; As Heaven’s blest beam turns vinegar more sour.   We, wretched subjects, though to lawful sway, In this weak queen some favourite still obey: Ah! if she lend not arms, as well as rules, What can she more than tell us we are fools? Teach us to mourn our nature, not to mend, A sharp accuser, but a helpless friend! Or from a judge turn pleader, to persuade The choice we make, or justify it made; Proud of an easy conquest all along, She but removes weak passions for the strong; So, when small humours gather to a gout, The doctor fancies he has driven them out.   Yes, Nature’s road must ever be preferred; Reason is here no guide, but still a guard: ’Tis hers to rectify, not overthrow, And treat this passion more as friend than foe: A mightier power the strong direction sends, And several men impels to several ends: Like varying winds, by other passions tossed, This drives them constant to a certain coast. Let power or knowledge, gold or glory, please, Or (oft more strong than all) the love of ease; Through life ’tis followed, even at life’s expense; The merchant’s toil, the sage’s indolence, The monk’s humility, the hero’s pride, All, all alike, find reason on their side.   The eternal art, educing good from ill, Grafts on this passion our best principle: ’Tis thus the mercury of man is fixed, Strong grows the virtue with his nature mixed; The dross cements what else were too refined, And in one interest body acts with mind.   As fruits, ungrateful to the planter’s care, On savage stocks inserted, learn to bear; The surest virtues thus from passions shoot, Wild nature’s vigour working at the root. What crops of wit and honesty appear From spleen, from obstinacy, hate, or fear! See anger, zeal and fortitude supply; Even avarice, prudence; sloth, philosophy; Lust, through some certain strainers well refined, Is gentle love, and charms all womankind; Envy, to which th’ ignoble mind’s a slave, Is emulation in the learned or brave; Nor virtue, male or female, can we name, But what will grow on pride, or grow on shame.   Thus Nature gives us (let it check our pride) The virtue nearest to our vice allied: Reason the bias turns to good from ill And Nero reigns a Titus, if he will. The fiery soul abhorred in Catiline, In Decius charms, in Curtius is divine: The same ambition can destroy or save, And makes a patriot as it makes a knave.   This light and darkness in our chaos joined, What shall divide?  The God within the mind.   Extremes in nature equal ends produce, In man they join to some mysterious use; Though each by turns the other’s bound invade, As, in some well-wrought picture, light and shade, And oft so mix, the difference is too nice Where ends the virtue or begins the vice.   Fools! who from hence into the notion fall, That vice or virtue there is none at all. If white and black blend, soften, and unite A thousand ways, is there no black or white? Ask your own heart, and nothing is so plain; ’Tis to mistake them, costs the time and pain.   Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As, to be hated, needs but to be seen; Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace. But where th’ extreme of vice, was ne’er agreed: Ask where’s the north? at York, ’tis on the Tweed; In Scotland, at the Orcades; and there, At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where. No creature owns it in the first degree, But thinks his neighbour farther gone than he; Even those who dwell beneath its very zone, Or never feel the rage, or never own; What happier nations shrink at with affright, The hard inhabitant contends is right.   Virtuous and vicious every man must be, Few in th’ extreme, but all in the degree, The rogue and fool by fits is fair and wise; And even the best, by fits, what they despise. ’Tis but by parts we follow good or ill; For, vice or virtue, self directs it still; Each individual seeks a several goal; But Heaven’s great view is one, and that the whole. That counter-works each folly and caprice; That disappoints th’ effect of every vice; That, happy frailties to all ranks applied, Shame to the virgin, to the matron pride, Fear to the statesman, rashness to the chief, To kings presumption, and to crowds belief: That, virtue’s ends from vanity can raise, Which seeks no interest, no reward but praise; And build on wants, and on defects of mind, The joy, the peace, the glory of mankind.   Heaven forming each on other to depend, A master, or a servant, or a friend, Bids each on other for assistance call, Till one man’s weakness grows the strength of all. Wants, frailties, passions, closer still ally The common interest, or endear the tie. To these we owe true friendship, love sincere, Each home-felt joy that life inherits here; Yet from the same we learn, in its decline, Those joys, those loves, those interests to resign; Taught half by reason, half by mere decay, To welcome death, and calmly pass away.   Whate’er the passion, knowledge, fame, or pelf, Not one will change his neighbour with himself. The learned is happy nature to explore, The fool is happy that he knows no more; The rich is happy in the plenty given, The poor contents him with the care of Heaven. See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing, The sot a hero, lunatic a king; The starving chemist in his golden views Supremely blest, the poet in his muse.   See some strange comfort every state attend, And pride bestowed on all, a common friend; See some fit passion every age supply, Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.   Behold the child, by Nature’s kindly law, Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw: Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight, A little louder, but as empty quite: Scarves, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage, And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age: Pleased with this bauble still, as that before; Till tired he sleeps, and life’s poor play is o’er.   Meanwhile opinion gilds with varying rays Those painted clouds that beautify our days; Each want of happiness by hope supplied, And each vacuity of sense by pride: These build as fast as knowledge can destroy; In folly’s cup still laughs the bubble, joy; One prospect lost, another still we gain; And not a vanity is given in vain; Even mean self-love becomes, by force divine, The scale to measure others’ wants by thine. See! and confess, one comfort still must rise, ’Tis this, though man’s a fool, yet God is wise.

ARGUMENT OF EPISTLE III.

Of the Nature and State of Man with respect to Society.

I. The whole Universe one system of Society, v.7, etc. Nothing made wholly for itself, nor yet wholly for another, v.27.  The happiness of Animals mutual, v.49.  II. Reason or Instinct operate alike to the good of each Individual, v.79.  Reason or Instinct operate also to Society, in all Animals, v.109.  III. How far Society carried by Instinct, v.115.  How much farther by Reason, v.128.  IV. Of that which is called the State of Nature, v.144.  Reason instructed by Instinct in the invention of Arts, v.166, and in the Forms of Society, v.176.  V. Origin of Political Societies, v.196.  Origin of Monarchy, v.207. Patriarchal Government, v.212.  VI. Origin of true Religion and Government, from the same principle, of Love, v.231, etc.  Origin of Superstition and Tyranny, from the same principle, of Fear, v.237, etc.  The Influence of Self-love operating to the social and public Good, v.266.  Restoration of true Religion and Government on their first principle, v.285.  Mixed Government, v.288.  Various forms of each, and the true end of all, v.300, etc.

EPISTLE III.

Here, then, we rest: “The Universal Cause Acts to one end, but acts by various laws.” In all the madness of superfluous health, The trim of pride, the impudence of wealth, Let this great truth be present night and day; But most be present, if we preach or pray.   Look round our world; behold the chain of love Combining all below and all above. See plastic Nature working to this end, The single atoms each to other tend, Attract, attracted to, the next in place Formed and impelled its neighbour to embrace. See matter next, with various life endued, Press to one centre still, the general good. See dying vegetables life sustain, See life dissolving vegetate again: All forms that perish other forms supply (By turns we catch the vital breath, and die), Like bubbles on the sea of matter borne, They rise, they break, and to that sea return. Nothing is foreign: parts relate to whole; One all-extending, all-preserving soul Connects each being, greatest with the least; Made beast in aid of man, and man of beast; All served, all serving: nothing stands alone; The chain holds on, and where it ends, unknown.   Has God, thou fool! worked solely for thy Thy good, Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food? Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn, For him as kindly spread the flowery lawn: Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings? Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings. Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat? Loves of his own and raptures swell the note. The bounding steed you pompously bestride, Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride. Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain? The birds of heaven shall vindicate their grain. Thine the full harvest of the golden year? Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer: The hog, that ploughs not nor obeys thy call, Lives on the labours of this lord of all.   Know, Nature’s children all divide her care; The fur that warms a monarch, warmed a bear. While man exclaims, “See all things for my use!” “See man for mine!” replies a pampered goose: And just as short of reason he must fall, Who thinks all made for one, not one for all.   Grant that the powerful still the weak control; Be man the wit and tyrant of the whole: Nature that tyrant checks; he only knows, And helps, another creature’s wants and woes. Say, will the falcon, stooping from above, Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove? Admires the jay the insect’s gilded wings? Or hears the hawk when Philomela sings? Man cares for all: to birds he gives his woods, To beasts his pastures, and to fish his floods; For some his interest prompts him to provide, For more his pleasure, yet for more his pride: All feed on one vain patron, and enjoy The extensive blessing of his luxury. That very life his learned hunger craves, He saves from famine, from the savage saves; Nay, feasts the animal he dooms his feast, And, till he ends the being, makes it blest; Which sees no more the stroke, or feels the pain, Than favoured man by touch ethereal slain. The creature had his feast of life before; Thou too must perish when thy feast is o’er!   To each unthinking being, Heaven, a friend, Gives not the useless knowledge of its end: To man imparts it; but with such a view As, while he dreads it, makes him hope it too; The hour concealed, and so remote the fear, Death still draws nearer, never seeming near. Great standing miracle! that Heaven assigned Its only thinking thing this turn of mind.

II.  Whether with reason, or with instinct blest, Know, all enjoy that power which suits them best; To bliss alike by that direction tend, And find the means proportioned to their end. Say, where full instinct is the unerring guide, What pope or council can they need beside? Reason, however able, cool at best, Cares not for service, or but serves when pressed, Stays till we call, and then not often near; But honest instinct comes a volunteer, Sure never to o’er-shoot, but just to hit; While still too wide or short is human wit; Sure by quick nature happiness to gain, Which heavier reason labours at in vain, This too serves always, reason never long; One must go right, the other may go wrong. See then the acting and comparing powers One in their nature, which are two in ours; And reason raise o’er instinct as you can, In this ’tis God directs, in that ’tis man.   Who taught the nations of the field and wood To shun their poison, and to choose their food? Prescient, the tides or tempests to withstand, Build on the wave, or arch beneath the sand? Who made the spider parallels design, Sure as Demoivre, without rule or line? Who did the stork, Columbus-like, explore Heavens not his own, and worlds unknown before? Who calls the council, states the certain day, Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way?

III.  God in the nature of each being founds Its proper bliss, and sets its proper bounds: But as He framed a whole, the whole to bless, On mutual wants built mutual happiness: So from the first, eternal order ran, And creature linked to creature, man to man. Whate’er of life all-quickening ether keeps, Or breathes through air, or shoots beneath the deeps, Or pours profuse on earth, one nature feeds The vital flame, and swells the genial seeds. Not man alone, but all that roam the wood, Or wing the sky, or roll along the flood, Each loves itself, but not itself alone, Each sex desires alike, till two are one. Nor ends the pleasure with the fierce embrace; They love themselves, a third time, in their race. Thus beast and bird their common charge attend, The mothers nurse it, and the sires defend; The young dismissed to wander earth or air, There stops the instinct, and there ends the care; The link dissolves, each seeks a fresh embrace, Another love succeeds, another race. A longer care man’s helpless kind demands; That longer care contracts more lasting bands: Reflection, reason, still the ties improve, At once extend the interest and the love; With choice we fix, with sympathy we burn; Each virtue in each passion takes its turn; And still new needs, new helps, new habits rise. That graft benevolence on charities. Still as one brood, and as another rose, These natural love maintained, habitual those. The last, scarce ripened into perfect man, Saw helpless him from whom their life began: Memory and forecast just returns engage, That pointed back to youth, this on to age; While pleasure, gratitude, and hope combined, Still spread the interest, and preserved the kind.

IV.  Nor think, in Nature’s state they blindly trod; The state of nature was the reign of God: Self-love and social at her birth began, Union the bond of all things, and of man. Pride then was not; nor arts, that pride to aid; Man walked with beast, joint tenant of the shade; The same his table, and the same his bed; No murder clothed him, and no murder fed. In the same temple, the resounding wood, All vocal beings hymned their equal God: The shrine with gore unstained, with gold undressed, Unbribed, unbloody, stood the blameless priest: Heaven’s attribute was universal care, And man’s prerogative to rule, but spare. Ah! how unlike the man of times to come! Of half that live the butcher and the tomb; Who, foe to nature, hears the general groan, Murders their species, and betrays his own. But just disease to luxury succeeds, And every death its own avenger breeds; The fury-passions from that blood began, And turned on man a fiercer savage, man.   See him from Nature rising slow to art! To copy instinct then was reason’s part; Thus then to man the voice of Nature spake— “Go, from the creatures thy instructions take: Learn from the birds what food the thickets yield; Learn from the beasts the physic of the field; Thy arts of building from the bee receive; Learn of the mole to plough, the worm to weave; Learn of the little nautilus to sail, Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale. Here too all forms of social union find, And hence let reason, late, instruct mankind: Here subterranean works and cities see; There towns aërial on the waving tree. Learn each small people’s genius, policies, The ant’s republic, and the realm of bees; How those in common all their wealth bestow, And anarchy without confusion know; And these for ever, though a monarch reign, Their separate cells and properties maintain. Mark what unvaried laws preserve each state, Laws wise as nature, and as fixed as fate. In vain thy reason finer webs shall draw, Entangle justice in her net of law, And right, too rigid, harden into wrong; Still for the strong too weak, the weak too strong. Yet go! and thus o’er all the creatures sway, Thus let the wiser make the rest obey; And, for those arts mere instinct could afford, Be crowned as monarchs, or as gods adored.”

V.  Great Nature spoke; observant men obeyed; Cities were built, societies were made: Here rose one little state: another near Grew by like means, and joined, through love or fear. Did here the trees with ruddier burdens bend, And there the streams in purer rills descend? What war could ravish, commerce could bestow, And he returned a friend, who came a foe. Converse and love mankind might strongly draw, When love was liberty, and Nature law. Thus States were formed; the name of king unknown, ’Till common interest placed the sway in one. ’Twas virtue only (or in arts or arms, Diffusing blessings, or averting harms) The same which in a sire the sons obeyed, A prince the father of a people made.

VI.  Till then, by Nature crowned, each patriarch sate, King, priest, and parent of his growing state; On him, their second providence, they hung, Their law his eye, their oracle his tongue. He from the wondering furrow called the food, Taught to command the fire, control the flood, Draw forth the monsters of the abyss profound, Or fetch the aërial eagle to the ground. Till drooping, sickening, dying they began Whom they revered as God to mourn as man: Then, looking up, from sire to sire, explored One great first Father, and that first adored. Or plain tradition that this all begun, Conveyed unbroken faith from sire to son; The worker from the work distinct was known, And simple reason never sought but one: Ere wit oblique had broke that steady light, Man, like his Maker, saw that all was right; To virtue, in the paths of pleasure, trod, And owned a Father when he owned a God. Love all the faith, and all the allegiance then; For Nature knew no right divine in men, No ill could fear in God; and understood A sovereign being but a sovereign good. True faith, true policy, united ran, This was but love of God, and this of man.   Who first taught souls enslaved, and realms undone, The enormous faith of many made for one; That proud exception to all Nature’s laws, To invert the world, and counter-work its cause? Force first made conquest, and that conquest, law; Till superstition taught the tyrant awe, Then shared the tyranny, then lent it aid, And gods of conquerors, slaves of subjects made: She, ’midst the lightning’s blaze, and thunder’s sound, When rocked the mountains, and when groaned the ground, She taught the weak to bend, the proud to pray, To power unseen, and mightier far than they: She, from the rending earth and bursting skies, Saw gods descend, and fiends infernal rise: Here fixed the dreadful, there the blest abodes; Fear made her devils, and weak hope her gods; Gods partial, changeful, passionate, unjust, Whose attributes were rage, revenge, or lust; Such as the souls of cowards might conceive, And, formed like tyrants, tyrants would believe. Zeal then, not charity, became the guide; And hell was built on spite, and heaven on pride, Then sacred seemed the ethereal vault no more; Altars grew marble then, and reeked with gore; Then first the flamen tasted living food; Next his grim idol smeared with human blood; With heaven’s own thunders shook the world below, And played the god an engine on his foe.   So drives self-love, through just and through unjust, To one man’s power, ambition, lucre, lust: The same self-love, in all, becomes the cause Of what restrains him, government and laws. For, what one likes if others like as well, What serves one will when many wills rebel? How shall he keep, what, sleeping or awake, A weaker may surprise, a stronger take? His safety must his liberty restrain: All join to guard what each desires to gain. Forced into virtue thus by self-defence, Even kings learned justice and benevolence: Self-love forsook the path it first pursued, And found the private in the public good.   ’Twas then, the studious head or generous mind, Follower of God, or friend of human-kind, Poet or patriot, rose but to restore The faith and moral Nature gave before; Re-lumed her ancient light, not kindled new; If not God’s image, yet His shadow drew: Taught power’s due use to people and to kings, Taught nor to slack, nor strain its tender strings, The less, or greater, set so justly true, That touching one must strike the other too; Till jarring interests, of themselves create The according music of a well-mixed state. Such is the world’s great harmony, that springs From order, union, full consent of things: Where small and great, where weak and mighty, made To serve, not suffer, strengthen, not invade; More powerful each as needful to the rest, And, in proportion as it blesses, blest; Draw to one point, and to one centre bring Beast, man, or angel, servant, lord, or king.   For forms of government let fools contest; Whate’er is best administered is best: For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight; His can’t be wrong whose life is in the right: In faith and hope the world will disagree, But all mankind’s concern is charity: All must be false that thwart this one great end; And all of God, that bless mankind or mend.   Man, like the generous vine, supported lives; The strength he gains is from the embrace he gives. On their own axis as the planets run, Yet make at once their circle round the sun; So two consistent motions act the soul; And one regards itself, and one the whole.   Thus God and Nature linked the general frame, And bade self-love and social be the same.

ARGUMENT OF EPISTLE IV.

Of the Nature and State of Man with respect to Happiness.

I. False Notions of Happiness, Philosophical and Popular, answered from v.19 to 77.  II. It is the End of all Men, and attainable by all, v.30.  God intends Happiness to be equal; and to be so, it must be social, since all particular Happiness depends on general, and since He governs by general, not particular Laws, v.37.  As it is necessary for Order, and the peace and welfare of Society, that external goods should be unequal, Happiness is not made to consist in these, v.51. But, notwithstanding that inequality, the balance of Happiness among Mankind is kept even by Providence, by the two Passions of Hope and Fear, v.70.  III. What the Happiness of Individuals is, as far as is consistent with the constitution of this world; and that the good Man has here the advantage, V.77.  The error of imputing to Virtue what are only the calamities of Nature or of Fortune, v.94.  IV. The folly of expecting that God should alter His general Laws in favour of particulars, v.121.  V. That we are not judges who are good; but that, whoever they are, they must be happiest, v.133, etc.  VI. That external goods are not the proper rewards, but often inconsistent with, or destructive of Virtue, v.165.  That even these can make no Man happy without Virtue: Instanced in Riches, v.183.  Honours, v.191.  Nobility, v.203. Greatness, v.215.  Fame, v.235.  Superior Talents, v.257, etc.  With pictures of human Infelicity in Men possessed of them all, v.267, etc.  VII. That Virtue only constitutes a Happiness, whose object is universal, and whose prospect eternal, v.307, etc.  That the perfection of Virtue and Happiness consists in a conformity to the Order of Providence here, and a Resignation to it here and hereafter, v.326, etc.

EPISTLE IV.

Oh, happiness, our being’s end and aim! Good, pleasure, ease, content! whate’er thy name: That something still which prompts the eternal sigh, For which we bear to live, or dare to die, Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, O’erlooked, seen double, by the fool, and wise. Plant of celestial seed! if dropped below, Say, in what mortal soil thou deign’st to grow? Fair opening to some Court’s propitious shine, Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine? Twined with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield, Or reaped in iron harvests of the field? Where grows?—where grows it not?  If vain our toil, We ought to blame the culture, not the soil: Fixed to no spot is happiness sincere, ’Tis nowhere to be found, or everywhere; ’Tis never to be bought, but always free, And fled from monarchs, St. John! dwells with thee.   Ask of the learned the way?  The learned are blind; This bids to serve, and that to shun mankind; Some place the bliss in action, some in ease, Those call it pleasure, and contentment these; Some, sunk to beasts, find pleasure end in pain; Some, swelled to gods, confess even virtue vain; Or indolent, to each extreme they fall, To trust in everything, or doubt of all.   Who thus define it, say they more or less Than this, that happiness is happiness?   Take Nature’s path, and mad opinions leave; All states can reach it, and all heads conceive; Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell; There needs but thinking right, and meaning well; And mourn our various portions as we please, Equal is common sense, and common ease.   Remember, man, “the Universal Cause Acts not by partial, but by general laws;” And makes what happiness we justly call Subsist not in the good of one, but all. There’s not a blessing individuals find, But some way leans and hearkens to the kind: No bandit fierce, no tyrant mad with pride, No caverned hermit, rests self-satisfied: Who most to shun or hate mankind pretend, Seek an admirer, or would fix a friend: Abstract what others feel, what others think, All pleasures sicken, and all glories sink: Each has his share; and who would more obtain, Shall find, the pleasure pays not half the pain.   Order is Heaven’s first law; and this confest, Some are, and must be, greater than the rest, More rich, more wise; but who infers from hence That such are happier, shocks all common sense. Heaven to mankind impartial we confess, If all are equal in their happiness: But mutual wants this happiness increase; All Nature’s difference keeps all Nature’s peace. Condition, circumstance is not the thing; Bliss is the same in subject or in king, In who obtain defence, or who defend, In him who is, or him who finds a friend: Heaven breathes through every member of the whole One common blessing, as one common soul. But fortune’s gifts if each alike possessed, And each were equal, must not all contest? If then to all men happiness was meant, God in externals could not place content.   Fortune her gifts may variously dispose, And these be happy called, unhappy those; But Heaven’s just balance equal will appear, While those are placed in hope, and these in fear: Nor present good or ill, the joy or curse, But future views of better or of worse,   Oh, sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise, By mountains piled on mountains, to the skies, Heaven still with laughter the vain toil surveys, And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.   Know, all the good that individuals find, Or God and Nature meant to mere mankind, Reason’s whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, Lie in three words, health, peace, and competence. But health consists with temperance alone; And peace, oh, virtue! peace is all thy own. The good or bad the gifts of fortune gain; But these less taste them, as they worse obtain. Say, in pursuit of profit or delight, Who risk the most, that take wrong means, or right; Of vice or virtue, whether blessed or cursed, Which meets contempt, or which compassion first? Count all the advantage prosperous vice attains, ’Tis but what virtue flies from and disdains: And grant the bad what happiness they would, One they must want, which is, to pass for good.   Oh, blind to truth, and God’s whole scheme below, Who fancy bliss to vice, to virtue woe! Who sees and follows that great scheme the best, Best knows the blessing, and will most be blest. But fools the good alone unhappy call, For ills or accidents that chance to all. See Falkland dies, the virtuous and the just! See god-like Turenne prostrate on the dust! See Sidney bleeds amid the martial strife! Was this their virtue, or contempt of life? Say, was it virtue, more though Heaven ne’er gave, Lamented Digby! sunk thee to the grave? Tell me, if virtue made the son expire, Why, full of days and honour, lives the sire? Why drew Marseilles’ good bishop purer breath, When Nature sickened, and each gale was death? Or why so long (in life if long can be) Lent Heaven a parent to the poor and me?   What makes all physical or moral ill? There deviates Nature, and here wanders will. God sends not ill; if rightly understood, Or partial ill is universal good, Or change admits, or Nature lets it fall; Short, and but rare, till man improved it all. We just as wisely might of Heaven complain That righteous Abel was destroyed by Cain, As that the virtuous son is ill at ease When his lewd father gave the dire disease. Think we, like some weak prince, the Eternal Cause Prone for His favourites to reverse His laws?   Shall burning Etna, if a sage requires, Forget to thunder, and recall her fires? On air or sea new motions be imprest, Oh, blameless Bethel! to relieve thy breast? When the loose mountain trembles from on high, Shall gravitation cease, if you go by? Or some old temple, nodding to its fall, For Chartres’ head reserve the hanging wall?   But still this world (so fitted for the knave) Contents us not.  A better shall we have? A kingdom of the just then let it be: But first consider how those just agree. The good must merit God’s peculiar care: But who, but God, can tell us who they are? One thinks on Calvin Heaven’s own spirit fell; Another deems him instrument of hell; If Calvin feel Heaven’s blessing, or its rod. This cries there is, and that, there is no God. What shocks one part will edify the rest, Nor with one system can they all be blest. The very best will variously incline, And what rewards your virtue, punish mine. Whatever is, is right.  This world, ’tis true, Was made for Cæsar—but for Titus too: And which more blest? who chained his country, say, Or he whose virtue sighed to lose a day?   “But sometimes virtue starves, while vice is fed.” What then?  Is the reward of virtue bread? That, vice may merit, ’tis the price of toil; The knave deserves it, when he tills the soil, The knave deserves it, when he tempts the main, Where folly fights for kings, or dives for gain. The good man may be weak, be indolent; Nor is his claim to plenty, but content. But grant him riches, your demand is o’er? “No—shall the good want health, the good want power?” Add health, and power, and every earthly thing, “Why bounded power? why private? why no king?” Nay, why external for internal given? Why is not man a god, and earth a heaven? Who ask and reason thus, will scarce conceive God gives enough, while He has more to give: Immense the power, immense were the demand; Say, at what part of nature will they stand?   What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy, The soul’s calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy, Is virtue’s prize: A better would you fix? Then give humility a coach and six, Justice a conqueror’s sword, or truth a gown, Or public spirit its great cure, a crown. Weak, foolish man! will heaven reward us there With the same trash mad mortals wish for here? The boy and man an individual makes, Yet sighest thou now for apples and for cakes? Go, like the Indian, in another life Expect thy dog, thy bottle, and thy wife: As well as dream such trifles are assigned, As toys and empires, for a God-like mind. Rewards, that either would to virtue bring No joy, or be destructive of the thing: How oft by these at sixty are undone The virtues of a saint at twenty-one! To whom can riches give repute or trust, Content, or pleasure, but the good and just? Judges and senates have been bought for gold, Esteem and love were never to be sold. Oh, fool! to think God hates the worthy mind, The lover and the love of human kind, Whose life is healthful, and whose conscience clear, Because he wants a thousand pounds a year.   Honour and shame from no condition rise; Act well your part, there all the honour lies. Fortune in men has some small difference made, One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade; The cobbler aproned, and the parson gowned, The friar hooded, and the monarch crowned, “What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl?” I’ll tell you, friend! a wise man and a fool. You’ll find, if once the monarch acts the monk, Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk, Worth makes the man, and want of it, the fellow; The rest is all but leather or prunella.   Stuck o’er with titles and hung round with strings, That thou mayest be by kings, or wh***s of kings. Boast the pure blood of an illustrious race, In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece; But by your fathers’ worth if yours you rate, Count me those only who were good and great. Go! if your ancient, but ignoble blood Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood, Go! and pretend your family is young; Nor own, your fathers have been fools so long. What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards? Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.   Look next on greatness; say where greatness lies? “Where, but among the heroes and the wise?” Heroes are much the same, the points agreed, From Macedonia’s madman to the Swede; The whole strange purpose of their lives, to find Or make, an enemy of all mankind? Not one looks backward, onward still he goes, Yet ne’er looks forward farther than his nose. No less alike the politic and wise; All sly slow things, with circumspective eyes; Men in their loose unguarded hours they take, Not that themselves are wise, but others weak. But grant that those can conquer, these can cheat; ’Tis phrase absurd to call a villain great: Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave, Is but the more a fool, the more a knave. Who noble ends by noble means obtains, Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains, Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed Like Socrates, that man is great indeed.   What’s fame? a fancied life in others’ breath, A thing beyond us, even before our death. Just what you hear, you have, and what’s unknown The same (my Lord) if Tully’s, or your own. All that we feel of it begins and ends In the small circle of our foes or friends; To all beside as much an empty shade An Eugene living, as a Cæsar dead; Alike or when, or where, they shone, or shine, Or on the Rubicon, or on the Rhine. A wit’s a feather, and a chief a rod; An honest man’s the noblest work of God. Fame but from death a villain’s name can save, As justice tears his body from the grave; When what the oblivion better were resigned, Is hung on high, to poison half mankind. All fame is foreign, but of true desert; Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart: One self-approving hour whole years outweighs Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas; And more true joy Marcellus exiled feels, Than Cæsar with a senate at his heels.   In parts superior what advantage lies? Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise? ’Tis but to know how little can be known; To see all others’ faults, and feel our own; Condemned in business or in arts to drudge, Without a second or without a judge; Truths would you teach or save a sinking land, All fear, none aid you, and few understand. Painful pre-eminence! yourself to view Above life’s weakness, and its comforts too.   Bring, then, these blessings to a strict account; Make fair deductions; see to what they mount; How much of other each is sure to cost; How each for other oft is wholly lost; How inconsistent greater goods with these; How sometimes life is risked, and always ease; Think, and if still the things thy envy call, Say, would’st thou be the man to whom they fall? To sigh for ribands if thou art so silly, Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy: Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life? Look but on Gripus, or on Gripus’ wife; If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shined, The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind: Or ravished with the whistling of a name, See Cromwell; damned to everlasting fame! If all, united, thy ambition call, From ancient story learn to scorn them all. There, in the rich, the honoured, famed, and great, See the false scale of happiness complete! In hearts of kings, or arms of queens who lay, How happy! those to ruin, these betray. Mark by what wretched steps their glory grows, From dirt and seaweed as proud Venice rose; In each how guilt and greatness equal ran, And all that raised the hero, sunk the man: Now Europe’s laurels on their brows behold, But stained with blood, or ill exchanged for gold; Then see them broke with toils or sunk with ease, Or infamous for plundered provinces. Oh, wealth ill-fated! which no act of fame E’er taught to shine, or sanctified from shame; What greater bliss attends their close of life? Some greedy minion, or imperious wife. The trophied arches, storeyed halls invade And haunt their slumbers in the pompous shade. Alas! not dazzled with their noontide ray, Compute the morn and evening to the day; The whole amount of that enormous fame, A tale, that blends their glory with their shame;   Know, then, this truth (enough for man to know) “Virtue alone is happiness below.” The only point where human bliss stands still, And tastes the good without the fall to ill; Where only merit constant pay receives, Is blest in what it takes, and what it gives; The joy unequalled, if its end it gain, And if it lose, attended with no pain; Without satiety, though e’er so blessed, And but more relished as the more distressed: The broadest mirth unfeeling folly wears, Less pleasing far than virtue’s very tears: Good, from each object, from each place acquired For ever exercised, yet never tired; Never elated, while one man’s oppressed; Never dejected while another’s blessed; And where no wants, no wishes can remain, Since but to wish more virtue, is to gain.   See the sole bliss Heaven could on all bestow! Which who but feels can taste, but thinks can know: Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind, The bad must miss; the good, untaught, will find; Slave to no sect, who takes no private road, But looks through Nature up to Nature’s God; Pursues that chain which links the immense design, Joins heaven and earth, and mortal and divine; Sees, that no being any bliss can know, But touches some above, and some below; Learns, from this union of the rising whole, The first, last purpose of the human soul; And knows, where faith, law, morals, all began, All end, in love of God, and love of man.   For Him alone, hope leads from goal to goal, And opens still, and opens on his soul! Till lengthened on to faith, and unconfined, It pours the bliss that fills up all the mind He sees, why Nature plants in man alone Hope of known bliss, and faith in bliss unknown: (Nature, whose dictates to no other kind Are given in vain, but what they seek they find) Wise is her present; she connects in this His greatest virtue with his greatest bliss; At once his own bright prospect to be blest, And strongest motive to assist the rest.   Self-love thus pushed to social, to divine, Gives thee to make thy neighbour’s blessing thine. Is this too little for the boundless heart? Extend it, let thy enemies have part: Grasp the whole worlds of reason, life, and sense, In one close system of benevolence: Happier as kinder, in whate’er degree, And height of bliss but height of charity.   God loves from whole to parts: but human soul Must rise from individual to the whole. Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake! The centre moved, a circle straight succeeds, Another still, and still another spreads; Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace; His country next; and next all human race; Wide and more wide, the o’erflowings of the mind Take every creature in, of every kind; Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest, And Heaven beholds its image in his breast.   Come, then, my friend! my genius! come along; Oh, master of the poet, and the song! And while the muse now stoops, or now ascends, To man’s low passions, or their glorious ends, Teach me, like thee, in various nature wise, To fall with dignity, with temper rise; Formed by thy converse, happily to steer From grave to gay, from lively to severe; Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease, Intent to reason, or polite to please. Oh! while along the stream of time thy name Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame, Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale? When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust repose, Whose sons shall blush their fathers were thy foes, Shall then this verse to future age pretend Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend? That urged by thee, I turned the tuneful art From sounds to things, from fancy to the heart; From wit’s false mirror held up Nature’s light; Showed erring pride, whatever is, is right; That reason, passion, answer one great aim; That true self-love and social are the same; That virtue only makes our bliss below; And all our knowledge is, ourselves to know.

THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.

DEO OPT. MAX.

Father of all! in every age,   In every clime adored, By saint, by savage, and by sage,   Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

Thou Great First Cause, least understood,   Who all my sense confined To know but this, that Thou art good,   And that myself am blind;

Yet gave me, in this dark estate,   To see the good from ill; And binding Nature fast in fate,   Left free the human will.

What conscience dictates to be done,   Or warns me not to do, This, teach me more than Hell to shun,   That, more than Heaven pursue.

What blessings Thy free bounty gives,   Let me not cast away; For God is paid when man receives,   To enjoy is to obey.

Yet not to earth’s contracted span   Thy goodness let me bound, Or think Thee Lord alone of man,   When thousand worlds are round:

Let not this weak, unknowing hand   Presume Thy bolts to throw, And deal damnation round the land,   On each I judge Thy foe.

If I am right, Thy grace impart,   Still in the right to stay; If I am wrong, oh, teach my heart   To find that better way.

Save me alike from foolish pride,   Or impious discontent, At aught Thy wisdom has denied,   Or aught Thy goodness lent.

Teach me to feel another’s woe,   To hide the fault I see; That mercy I to others show,   That mercy show to me.

Mean though I am, not wholly so,   Since quickened by Thy breath; Oh, lead me wheresoe’er I go,   Through this day’s life or death.

This day, be bread and peace my lot:   All else beneath the sun, Thou know’st if best bestowed or not;   And let Thy will be done.

To Thee, whose temple is all space,   Whose altar earth, sea, skies, One chorus let all being raise,   All Nature’s incense rise!

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Arnold Palmer obituary

https://clearwatergolfclub.com/arnold-palmer-obituary/

Arnold Palmer obituary

Among the finest players within the good reputation for golf who won 73 tournaments

In almost any listing of causes of the current recognition and financial standing of golf, the name, and also the game, of Arnold Palmer are irresistibly linked.

Palmer, that has died aged 87, was probably the most charismatic golfers ever to experience the sport, your man who had been admired by ladies and a person to whom no play was ever impossible. She got into, and from, more trouble around the course than any one of his championship winning peers, and thus crazy were his recovery shots he rapidly attracted an enormous following.

The fans, the feet soldiers, who adopted him through good or ill grew to become referred to as Arnies Army plus they never deserted him. Despite the fact that his golf inevitably declined as we grow older, their fervour for him was undimmed, as well as around the US Seniors tour he almost always departed the very first tee having a bigger gallery than other people. Nor was his appeal limited to periodic fans. Jack Statter, golf correspondent for that Sun newspaper, used to be watching his beloved Arnie as he observed the great mans caddie had unsuccessful to exchange an enormous divot. He nipped in rapidly, trousered it, required it home and finally increased an entire front lawn from that certain small bit of turf. He known as it, proudly, Palmers Piece.

Such devotion was inspired through the apparent passion that Palmer had for that game. He’d a slashing, dashing style, frequently supported with a grin. He’d hit the ball hard, the conclusion to his swing resembling an area athlete attempting to break the planet record for that hammer throw. It wasn’t a swing that may be certain to keep your ball from the trees, nor made it happen. Jim Murray, the late and great La sportswriter, along with a fan of Ben Hogan was eventually watching Palmer when certainly one of his drives carried out in deep rough. Based on Murray the ball is at a stack of twigs leaving and i believe there is a defunct squirrel along with a beer can inside too. Anyway, Palmer walked over and looked lower at his ball. He then saw me standing there and requested: OK wise guy, what can your idol Hogan do here? I told him: Hogan wouldnt be around. Palmer chuckled striking the ball to the eco-friendly anyway. Trouble, he once stated, isn’t good to get involved with but fun to get away from. I guess there is a spot to be cautious but so far as Im concerned it is not around the course.

Palmer was among the couple of men to possess given a thing new meaning in golfs lexicon. In 1960 he won the united states Masters at Augusta by finishing birdie, birdie, birdie. The majority of the sportswriters known Palmer charging right through to the win, and that he duly grew to become renowned for his final round finishes, the Palmer Charge.

3 several weeks next Augusta win, also, he won the united states Open and again the charge is at evidence. After three models it looked as if he was lacking an opportunity, and prior to the final round he was discussing his prospects having a sportswriter friend, Bob Drum. What, wondered Palmer aloud, would a 65 provide for me this mid-day? Drum, a large, burly and blunt man, was dismissive. Nothing, he stated. Palmer, stung, recently drove the very first eco-friendly at Cherry Hillsides, Denver, an opening calculating 346 yards. She got towards the submit 30, returned in 35 and won that which was to become his only US Open. He won the Masters four occasions, in 1958, 1960, 1962 and 1964, and the seven majors were performed by winning outdoors championship two times.

Palmer was appropriately credited with reviving the virtually moribund Open by playing inside it the very first time at St Andrews in 1960. Couple of Americans thought it worth their while in the future and participate in the earliest of golfs major titles, but Palmer made the decision otherwise and encouraged a lot of his compatriots to help make the trip too. He was runner-in 1960 after which won two times in succession, in 1961 and 1962, at Royal Birkdale and Troon correspondingly. The outcome was immediate and immense. Just before Palmer, 3 Americans had won outdoors because the finish of world war ii: Sam Snead in 1946 and Hogan in 1953. Within the years 1961-81 they won 14 occasions, through which time outdoors took over as most cosmopolitan, and perhaps probably the most influential, championship on the planet.

Palmer was created in Latrobe, a little industrial town in western Pennsylvania, to Deacon, a golf professional in the Latrobe Country Club, and the wife, Doris. He started playing at Latrobe at 4 years old, began caddying at 11, and it was winning big local tournaments in the teens. He began their studies at Wake Forest College (now College), but was badly impacted by the dying of his room-mate Bud Worsham inside a vehicle accident, and left college throughout his senior year to start a 3-year stint using the US Coast Guard, mainly in Cleveland, Ohio, where he felt he could re-think his existence. After finishing using the Coast Guard he labored like a salesperson in Cleveland and rekindled his curiosity about golf, winning the united states Amateur championship in 1954 and turning pro exactly the same year.

The following decade was certainly one of heroic achievement, despite the fact that Palmers last win inside a major arrived 1964, his affect on the sport continued to be undiminished. He ongoing winning other big tournaments in america until his last victory there in 1973, and the last win in Europe is at 1975. Also, he ran their own tournament around the US tour, the Bay Hill Classic, which, due to his status, attracted fields just like might be found outdoors the majors. The programme for your event, locked in Orlando, Florida, transported advertisements for products endorsed by Palmer, varying from cans of oil to tractors, from Cadillacs to Rolexes, from private banks to batteries, and that he was making increased sums of cash around the back nine of his career than he did around the front.

For those his fame, however, Palmer would be a modest man. Every so often people attempted to obtain him thinking about politics, also it was seriously suggested, in the height of his recognition, he run not only for governor of Florida as well as the US presidency. He never as it were considered such nonsense, for he would be a man much more happy in the living room or his workshop compared to any high office.

In the living room he’d a Moving Rock beer dispenser, well used when buddies known as round, as well as in his workshop he’d all of the tools any-time club professional ever possessed. He never was more happy than when trying out clubs, re-gripping or re-whipping a classic set, altering a golf club loft or adding some lead strip. Some who saw him during these surrounds recommended he could have been more happy in the existence to be the club pro his father was before him. However that point of view overlooked the fierce competitive instinct which, although it consumed him, always continued to be well-hidden.

There wasn’t any better illustration of that instinct once the draw introduced him and Jack Nicklaus together for that final round from the 1980 Masters. At that time Palmer hadn’t won a competitive sport for 5 years, and Nicklaus, uncle and great rival, was the reigning US PGA champion. It ought to happen to be no contest. But Palmers wife, Winnie, understood better. Arnie plays better when hes got something similar to this to light his fire, she stated. Palmer, whose reaction on hearing the draw have been to roar Ill whip his ass, recently shot a 69 to Nicklauss 73, finishing fifth. In the previous 18 attempts at Augusta he’d unsuccessful to interrupt 70. Palmer were built with a lengthy romance with Augusta, so when in The month of january 1997 he found that he’d cancer of the prostate, his first reaction ended up being to ask whether, if he’d the surgery immediately, he’d be fit to experience at Augusta in April. The solution was yes, and that he was.

Altogether Palmer won 73 tournaments worldwide, including greater than 60 around the US tour. Only Snead, Tiger Forest, Nicklaus and Hogan are in front of him for the reason that department. Twenty-nine of his victories were at that time 1960-63, which brought eventually to him being named Connected Press athlete from the decade for that 60s. He made an appearance in six Ryder Cups from 1961 to 1973, playing in 32 matches and winning 22, and it was two times a Ryder Cup captain inside a playing role in 1963 along with a non-playing capacity in 1975, winning both occasions.

He joined his last US Open at Oakmont, in Pennsylvania, in 1994 4 decades after first playing in case and the enthusiasm and durability is shown because the space between his US Amateur championship win in 1954 and the US Senior Open victory almost 30 years ago was 27 years. Possibly no professional ever loved the sport more. Most of the top players cannot bear to experience unless of course there’s an aggressive aspect, along with a round with buddies for pure enjoyment is unthinkable. But Palmer performed for that pleasure from it, as well as in his communication of this fact lay the key of his incredible recognition.

There is an event away Hill as he and also the then emerging Forest found one another around the practice range simultaneously. Palmer requested Forest if he was enjoying existence around the tour and Forest responded he was, because, the thing is, the factor is the fact that I enjoy play golf. Palmer smiled and responded: Well, thats good. I understand something about this. Its an issue Ive had for around the final six decades.

Winnie (nee Walzer), whom he married in 1954, died in 1999. He’s survived by their two kids, Peggy and Amy, by his second wife Package (nee Gawthrop), whom he married in 2005.

Arnold Daniel Palmer, golfer, born 10 September 1929 died 25 September 2016

David Davies died in 2008

Find out more: https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2016/sep/26/arnold-palmer-obituaries