Nahum ( /ˈneɪ.əm/ or /ˈneɪhəm/; Hebrew: נַחוּם Naḥūm) was a minor prophet whose prophecy is recorded in the Hebrew Bible. His book comes in chronological order between Micah and Habakkuk in the Bible. He wrote about the end of the Assyrian Empire, and its capital city, Nineveh, in a vivid poetic style.
Little is known about Nahum’s personal history. His name means "comforter," and he was from the town of Alqosh, (Nah 1:1) which scholars have attempted to identify with several cities, including the modern `Alqush of Assyria and Capharnaum of northern Galilee. He was a very nationalistic Hebrew however and lived amongst the Elkoshites in peace. His writings could be taken as prophecy or as history. One account suggests that his writings are a prophecy written in about 615 BC, just before the downfall of Assyria, while another account suggests that he wrote this passage as liturgy just after its downfall in 612 BC.
The tomb of Nahum is supposedly inside the synagogue at Alqosh, although there are other places outside Iraq that lay claim also to being the original “Elkosh” from which Nahum hailed. Alquosh was abandoned by its Jewish population in 1948, when they were expelled, and the synagogue that purportedly houses the tomb is in a poor structural state, to the extent that the tomb itself is in danger of destruction. The tomb underwent basic repairs in 1796. When all Jews were compelled to flee Alqosh in 1948, the iron keys to the tomb were handed to a Chaldean man by the name of Sami Jajouhana. Few Jews visit the historic site, yet Jajouhana continues to keep the promise he made with his Jewish friends, and looks after the tomb. A team of US/UK construction engineers, led by Huw Thomas, is currently planning ways to save the building and the tomb. Money has been allocated for proposed renovation in 2008.
J. David Pawson (born 1930) is a prominent Bible teacher based in Great Britain. He is the author of more than thirty books.
According to his autobiography, Pawson's immediate ancestors were all farmers, Methodist preachers or both - dating back to John Pawson, a friend and follower of John Wesley. His father, H. Cecil Pawson, was head of Agriculture at Durham University and also Vice President of the Methodist conference. From his childhood in the north of England David Pawson had wanted to be a farmer, but by the time he had completed his studies for a B.Sc. in Agriculture at Durham University, he felt God was calling him into full-time Christian ministry. He then studied for an M.A. in theology at Wesley House, Cambridge University, and subsequently joined the Royal Air Force as a chaplain, serving in Aden.
After leaving the RAF he served as a Methodist minister, but became increasingly uncomfortable with the idea of infant baptism. After appearing before a doctrinal committee of the Methodist church, he volunteered to leave the denomination, and did so. Shortly thereafter he accepted an invitation to become the pastor of Gold Hill Baptist Church in Buckinghamshire.
İlber Ortaylı (born 21 May 1947, Bregenz, Austria), is a leading Turkish historian, professor of history at the Galatasaray University in Istanbul and at Bilkent University in Ankara. Since 2005 he has been the head of the Topkapı Museum in Istanbul.
As the son of a Crimean Tatar family who fled Stalin's persecution and deportation, he was born in a refugee camp in Bregenz, Austria on 21 May 1947 and came to Turkey when he was 2 years old. Ortaylı attended elementary school and St. George's Austrian High School in İstanbul and then Ankara Atatürk High School. He graduated from Ankara University Mekteb-i Mülkiye (Faculty of Political Science) and completed his postgraduate studies at the University of Chicago under Professor Halil İnalcık and at the University of Vienna. He obtained his doctorate at Ankara University in the Faculty of Political Sciences. His doctoral thesis was Local Administration in the Tanzimat Period (1978). After his doctorate, he attended to the faculty at the School of Political Sciences of Ankara University. In 1979, he was appointed as associate professor. In 1982, he resigned from his position, protesting the academic policy of the government established after the 1980 Turkish coup d'état. After teaching at several universities in Turkey, Europe and Russia, in 1989 he returned to the Ankara University and became professor of history and the head of the section of administrative history.
Román Díaz (born July 31, 1980 in Moreno, Argentina) is a Argentine footballer currently playing for Club Almirante Brown.
Drifting silently towards the end of the world, I'm falling fast from the caress of humanity. We've let this slip away. To reverse the past is all i want, for wiping my tears will only stain my blood. Please bleed forever. I will watch. Burn everything and follow the flames. Under the pale night sky i wander in search for you. Lost forever past all belief. I am left again, to bear this alone. You said this would never end. But now you're gone, and i'm right here. Holding dead roses from the past. You take me to unconscious darkness. Hide your face and be my poison. As i bury this knife into my body. Remove your skin, the infection now begins.
Scarred by the generations of contamination. Drained of life, devoied of tranquility. Mother earth crumbles with the weight of its children. Hope that has been hollowed from these veins. Tonight the remains cry out signs of degradation, as the maggots infest within our ears. Our actions of today create the teardrops of tomorrow. Again and again, civilization wraps her hands around the neck of nature with a ceaseless grasr we choke. Feeding off of false words spoon fed. Breathe in the reign of ignorance. Witnessing the silence of voices - A divine disregard for improvement. The pursuit of survival will keep us alive.
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A hazer of absence hovers over your head. I cannot see past this blackened hole inside your chest. Place this noose around your neck. There is nothing left but two steps to eternity. Nothing more can fulfill your desire, a fuel that will burn no longer. Gather the blood that has been shed. Sip the taste of despair. Can't you see what you've become? Spit this precious disease from your mouth. Fall to your knees, and pray for yourself. I have forgotten your death and maybe now, there can be silence. Your kiss is as cold as death. I'll hold your severed head in my hands. Leave this plague to devour it's hosts. Close your eyes, for this sadness shall forever reign upon our hearts. I gaze into the dying light of my forgotten dreams to search for my true happiness.
Once upon a midnight sky, the darkness calls my name. From this day forth the calling will prevail eternal. Let this be the last time that you come for me, as we become one. I can't envision the temptation of turning back. There is so much more to give now than there once was, yet it seems as if time grows ever so slowly. The severance is to me as fire is to the damned. What i desire most has been buried awau with the time that has come and gone. The repitition has become all i feel. There is no comfort in desolation, but only in the sweet scent of life. No solace is found in the arms of the deceitful. Now i must thirst for what brings life to us all. Consuming blackness, i am the unseen. Knowing that this is what kiss, i will destroy. A breath that will endure, a kiss that shall be your last. Hunting in search of satisfying a taste for my life - to save you the pain. Forcing my presence to be but a mere shadow cast upon your sweet cheek. Become one with me. Follor me and together we can exist in the shadow of gloom. Conceal ourselved from the light and rest until we must breathe again when the nighttime calls. To reconcile the thoughts for the beloved, we must give in to the taste. To the taste. We must give in. To the taste. For we are alone to torment the fucking souls of the mortal flesh, and bound by the everlasting taste.
As remorse awakes, i reach these open arms out towards fulfillment, but again return with emptiness in this celestial cessation of time. Too soon this door was shut so tight. Bowing down to an untrue fate means a lesser exisence. Arise the frustration from my thickened throat, where confusion etches its mark straight into my chest. I can't fall again until you help me up. For far too long, i have searched for the beauty that you create. Lift this blanket of desperation from my heart to reveal my lost soul. On my bed of stone, i await your return.
Clouds hasten in the frozen sky, as this hour becomes as pale as the last. Watching the sun shrink to oblivion, I try to remember the last time that I felt alive. The vast fields of life have become empty with passion and empty of our eyes. Where does this road lead again? Perhaps I was hoping to find something that didn't exist. The torturous rain descends one last time. Be silent. Be still. Here is where the light becomes thin, and the obscurity revealed. Underneath the scars holds nothing more than what brought me here; to rest with this silence. And here i lay. Cast me into this blaze. leave me to burn. All this time, thinking i knew why, but that has been forsaken. Fearing that i am lost and falling into a trap again, how was I made to believe? An existent beauty vieled. Manking has been formed into a struggle for power - The capability to devestate and to manipulate our eyes into untruth. The chaos shall be instilled into the footsteps of man, as we plunge into the depths of immortality. Fighting to extinguish. Killing to live on.