An Analysis Of Clarke Thought On The Surface

In the following paper, I will outline Samuel Clarke’s “Modern Formulation of the Cosmological Argument” and restate some of the points that he makes. Samuel Clarke’s argument for the existence of God states that “There has existed from eternity some one unchangeable and independent being” (37). The argument follows a logical flow and can be better understood when the structure is laid out and the argument reconstructed.

A splash of cold water hit Kelly’s face with a jolt. It felt good, reminded her that she was still alive. The bathroom tile felt cool to the touch, and she placed my wet palms on the counter for balance. A thin raised line etched down her finger, and she wondered how long the scar would last. It was ugly. A constant reminder of the past year. How could a single year of a person’s life leave such scars? But it wasn’t the surface wounds she was worried about; it was the deeper kind. The permanent kind.

A sudden emptiness seemed to flow from the sweltering air and into our thoughts. The drive back from New York felt hauntingly isolated. Uncomfortable silence filled the yellow car. The silence was only to be broken by warm air whistling as Daisy’s white dress swooshed around through the gentle breeze.

My lungs were insatiable, not screaming but rather, begging good-naturedly for more. The balmy air was somehow more invigorating, knowing as I did that its vast expanse respected no boundaries in which it could grow stale and contaminated. I could feel my heart pounding against my chest and in my ears, rhythmically, so that my legs soon fell into stride. My bare shins graciously accepted lashings from the Timothy-grass and wild rye that had grown cavalier in the harrow’s

As the afternoon dawns hours later, he proceeds to sweep the paths of the once again brisk city alive with noise and action. From afar, an assemblage of nature’s undisturbed emerald leaves, ensnare his gaze. With a swift motion he rushed towards what seemed to be nature’s personal gift to him. This being a habitual reaction left him unaware of the effects of his senseless behaviour. His arrival upon the peaceful scene was a reflection of the early morning scene in the

She rapidly swiped her jagged edged bitten fingernails across the small upraised mound of skin where the needle had pricked her so that she might enjoy a few moments of relief from the insatiable itch. Her need to scratch made the underside of her wrist red and raw with hints of blood slowly creeping up to the surface of her skin. Thea couldn’t help but vex the creator of such a needle. How she would have loved to take that needle and prick its inventor a few times in the sake of revenge.

She has studied his tattoos to understand the meaning of them, to understand the meaning

The sun was dipping below the horizon, and a fiery young girl’s room began to sink into a deep shade of gray-- deepening the ceaseless melancholy that settled upon her. Each night, Cassie would break; she would look at me with her all-too-sobered eyes and solemnly whisper that she couldn't eat, or that the latest slice in her skin was just a little too deep. It wouldn’t stop bleeding. The pain inside her was so great that she had to resort to extremes: She had to slice her skin, hoping that she just might be able to distract herself from the excruciating chaos of her mind being torn apart. It didn’t matter how much harm came to her as a result. She honestly believed that her frail, undernourished body was “pudgy” and “disgusting.”

‘Breathe,’ a voice within her ordered, and the woman gasped for oxygen. Ash and smoke surrounded her. Grey wisps of smoke rose from the destruction crumbling the valley stroking the sky, devouring life. In the distance the great fire danced, scorching all they consumed. Her eyes stung as she stared down at her life’s purpose.

The air had reached a fatally thin point; consequently, she was having difficulty breathing. Every singular intake of air she took, I fantasized would be her last. When finally she took her last breath, I experienced something I’d never in previous offerings experienced...Regret! How could I have killed the one true joy in my life (other than death)? Am I mad, completely bonkers, a screw job? No!, I am just one of many who have fallen quarry to the harsh beauty of women kind; to their exciting temptation of love.

Suddenly, the phosphorescent glare of the sun was gone; it was dark, it was fetid and pungent (and some odd, sweet smell was present, also). The green leaves and tall trunks and brush were gone, too, and in their place were plump, black bags of trash and old pizza boxes. This must, he thought, be the end of the forest, where it met civilization again, and he must be sitting now in the industrial sized dumpster of some business’

Her wide, blindly staring eyes sink away, crawling backwards into the dark, morbid abyss of her skull. They swim around, receding as their pale, sky-like blue colour remains situated in the centre, away from the dark, earie shadows that creep menacingly around her hollowed, lifeless eyes. Her features are nothing short from a skeleton, cheekbones jotted out, as if they were trying to pull themselves away from one another, then in one fell swoop they cave in on themselves, leaving a hollow, cave-like shadow below her prominent cheekbones. Her Jaw line is strong like her cheeks, leaving a long, tall shadow across her long neck, her jaw looking almost as if it was not a part of her;

And each night since that vision, she has dreamed of a man decorated with swirling, glittering patterns of coral stone. Tattoos of jewels carved into his body that radiate a strange magnetic power.

As I left behind the somber forest, I now recognized an appreciation for nature that I did not realize I had. I now knew there was more to nature than just trees and animals, but also I found the

The rolling sea of people crashed and tumbled along the cracked and time-worn sidewalks. The honking cars, engines rumbling like hunting lions, barely rolled down the street. Traffic had never moved very quickly in New York, unfortunately. The mingling scents of cheap coffee, baked goods, and an assortment of unflattering perfumes somehow managed to waft upwards to the tops of the shorter buildings lining the block. Watching the bustle below with squinted eyes, a pale woman stood atop the roof of the Summerdale Apartment Building. Her slim figure easily went unnoticed that high up, but the smell of her spearmint perfume or shampoo gently joined the scents of the street below rising up towards the sky. Her hands pressed flat against