Alms ( /ɑːmz/) or almsgiving is a religious rite which, in general, involves giving materially to another as an act of religious virtue. It exists in a number of religions and regions. The word, in the modern English language, comes from the Old English ælmesse, ælmes, from Late Latin eleemosyna, from Greek ἐλεημοσύνη eleēmosynē "pity, alms", from ἐλεήμων eleēmōn "merciful", from ἔλεος eleos "pity".
In Buddhism, alms or almsgiving is the respect given by a lay Buddhist to a Buddhist monk, nun, spiritually-developed person or other sentient being. It is not charity as presumed by Western interpreters. It is closer to a symbolic connection to the spiritual realm and to show humbleness and respect in the presence of the secular society. The act of alms giving assists in connecting the human to the monk or nun and what he/she represents. As the Buddha has stated:
Householders & the homeless or charity [monastics] in mutual dependence both reach the true Dhamma....
</poem>John Hindhaugh is a sports commentator and broadcaster from Sunderland, England.
He is most closely associated with Radio Le Mans, where he debuted in 1989, however his voice can also be heard on motorsport commentary on ITV, Motors TV, Mobil 1 The Grid, XM Satellite Radio and the video game Need For Speed: Pro Street.
He has previously worked for the BBC and commentated on sports as diverse as ice hockey, basketball and football.
Sweeney Todd is a fictional character who first appeared as the murderer of the Victorian penny dreadful The String of Pearls (1846–1847) and he was later introduced as an antihero of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street and its film adaptations. Claims that Sweeney Todd was a historical person are strongly disputed by scholars, although there are possible legendary prototypes.
In the original version of the tale, Todd is a barber who dispatches his victims by pulling a lever while they are in his barber chair, which makes them fall backward down a revolving trapdoor into the basement of his shop, generally causing them to break their necks or skulls. Just in case they are alive, he goes to the basement and "polishes them off" (slitting their throats with his straight razor). In some adaptations, the murdering process is reversed, with Todd slitting the throats of his customers before they are dispatched into the basement via the revolving trapdoor. After Todd has robbed his dead victims of their goods, Mrs. Lovett, his partner in crime (in some later versions, his friend and/or lover), assists him in disposing of the bodies by baking their flesh into meat pies, and selling them to the unsuspecting customers of her pie shop. Todd's barber shop is situated at 186 Fleet Street, London, next to St. Dunstan's church, and is connected to Mrs. Lovett's pie shop in nearby Bell Yard by means of an underground passage. In most versions of the story, he and Mrs. Lovett hire an unwitting orphan boy, Tobias Ragg, to serve the pies to customers.
Ice in your eyes, flame in my heart...alms of our loneliness! Forgotten!
If you have, have a soul...mistaken soul
You donit cover a grief...hateful grief
Above my invisible dream...most beautiful dream
A curtain turns up...over the heads of sillers
unselfish respect...and opera begins
A conductor raises the baton...psalm of fate was completed
prudent delusion...from veil of experience
Elicting sensual strike...penetrating sound
false note...settlement with death
death!
If you donit recognize mind...outspoken mind
You donit see the truth...mendacious truth
Above my solitary scream...blind scream
The black clouds, darkness of heart, lighning from clean sky
Desperate alms, mirrors of the past, part from symbolic trust
The eternal fame, suffering of innocence, voluntary departure from life
The moment of succes...on the edge of my loyalty
infinite applause...flowers fall on platform
The last bow...neverending symphony of silence
if you feel the touch...unrealy touch
You donit know emptiness...immortal emptiness
over my merciless inhumanity...dauntless inhumanity
My hate...My trust...My spirit of the God
My pain...My grief...My lies of your horror
My dream...My soul...My shadow on the wall
My anger...My pleasure...My lock on your treasure
You wasted it, you fell asleep
It was not late, you missed the point
You wasted it, you fell asleep
It was not late, you missed the point
You wasted it, you fell asleep
It was not late, you missed the point
You thought that you could disappear
You thought it easier to be here
You thought that you could disappear
You thought it easier to be here
You wasted it, you fell asleep
It was not late, you missed the point
Don't ask me for alm, don't ask me for a-a-alms
Don't ask me to follow you anywhere / don't ask me for alms
All aboard at port b, hurry hurry hurry hurry hurry
All aboard at port b,/ hurry hurry hurry hurry hurry
When u get to port c you will be happy
When u get to port c you will be happy
Happy happy happy happy happy happy happy no
Don't put me in your arms, don't put me in ur a-a-arms
Don't ask me to follow you anywhere, don't ask me for alms
Don't ask me for alms, don't ask me for alms
Don't ask me for alms. don't ask me for alms
Take my chest and blow it open
make a bomb out of this heart
let what's unseen push my ribs apart
it's a start
You crack the shell to find the bird
You part the mouth to make the word
You shake the sky to feed the sea
now shake me
You pierce the skin to clear the wound
You cut the reed to sound the tune
You split the seed to bring the tree
now break me
Take my hand and pull it open
pry these fingers from my palm
let every fist I make be broken
into a place for alms
Stretch this thread into Your loom
pick this rose to scent Your room
boil these leaves to make Your tea
boil me
Mold the bones that form this face
break the dam that holds Your grace
burn a wick so light can be
burn me
Take me
where the sheep are catching wolves
where the parts are weaving wholes
where the drop contains the sea