"Why in the world..."

Originally posted by DeepThought
Only if God exists. If God does not exist then such decisions are of no consequence whatsoever.

Originally posted by Grampy Bobby
"Ever adroitly analyze/logically reason your way in eliminating options to arrive at a correct decision at a critical point in an important chess game
and then after your opponent moved realize that you had just made an irrevocable worst possible wrong move and in doing so lost a won game?
Decisions in the spiritual realm have eternal consequences for you and me, our families and friends and the rest of the human race. -Bob"
__________________

Originally posted by DeepThought
Only if God exists. If God does not exist then such decisions are of no consequence whatsoever."
__________________

DT, precisely. Once again we agree. Thank you.

Originally posted by googlefudge
That is only true if the spiritual realm actually exists.

It doesn't.

And please remember if nothing else, that I consider all such posts of yours to be threats.
And every time you threaten me, I despise you a little more.

Originally posted by googlefudge
"That is only true if the spiritual realm actually exists..."

Yes, googlefudge. Please see my reply to DeepThought moments ago.

Originally posted by twhitehead
Then maybe you should take life more seriously and actually listen to what people say instead of ignoring them.

Life is brief and the outcomes of our critical decisions have eternal consequences.

Originally posted by Grampy Bobby
Life is brief and the outcomes of our critical decisions have eternal consequences.

For the universe, not for us.

The Bard had it right.

"All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then, the whining school-boy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then, a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden, and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice,
In fair round belly, with a good capon lined,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws, and modern instances,
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."

The play goes on, the players do not.

Originally posted by googlefudge
For the universe, not for us.

The Bard had it right.

"All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then, the whining school-boy with his satchel ...[text shortened]... ans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything."

The play goes on, the players do not.

Ah, the Bard.

“Born on the day the Bard was born,
and born on the day he died—“