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Nietzsche questions if morality is even necessary.

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By definition, morality is the distinction between right and wrong.

He presents this view of religious organizations role playing as tools of social engineering for the rich among other controversial views on morality and religion, particularly directed on Christian beliefs of the Salvation Army, one of the foremost organizations of Christianity of his time....

These things make morals, ethics, and values important in society.

Their morality can be based on purity and honesty when others concerned with practices....

The world is very cruel. An enormous value is given the material prosperity of a man, but not to his moral and spiritual consistence, integrity. Moral values are losing their significance; all we want to know about is personal prosperity and the bank account.

Therefore, what is happiness! Will anybody be able to give exact formulation to this word? I doubt deeply that it will be possible, in fact for each of us happiness is something personal, something each of wants most and what to a greater degree satisfies his basic needs.

The application of morality determines how it can be explained.

In particular, moral action is heavily displayed in the fourth truth, the Eightfold Path....

In Sir Gawain and the Green Knight the poet explores Sir Gawain's moral development throughout his ordeal, often juxtaposing his supposed virtues against those of others, but finally, when he is alone, Gawain gains a sense of his true moral standing....

Webster's Dictionary defines ethics as "a particular system of principles and rules concerning duty, whether true or false," and morals as "motivation based on ideas of right and wrong." As I take it, ethics implies a set of basic rules to abide by, whereas morals strictly set down what to believe, and what not to....

Knowing between right and wrong is a good foundation to practicing good ethics and morals.
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Human behavior is based the most on moral and ethical principles.

Due to the risk of allowing one’s self or the mission to be compromised, a high moral professional and personal standard should be ever present when accomplishing intelligence missions.

There are many questions that surround the mystery of morals.

But, as beings concerned with not only the biological aspects of life but also with morality, we must ask the question: when is it morally appropriate to engage in sex....

The humorous Miller?s Tale is no exception.

(could we make the search)
Who while they hate the Gospel, love ' the Church.'
That Gospel, preached by Jesus to the poor,
Simple, sublime, and spiritual, and pure,
Is not constructed, and was ne'er designed,
To please the morbid, proud, romantic mind :
'Tis not in flowers, or fields, or fancy found ;
Nor on Arcadian, nor on
'Tis not in poetry, 'tis not in sound ;
Not even where those infant lips respire
A heaven of music from the fretted quire,
Chanting the prayer or praise in highest key,
--, or
--He shuns the world, but not alone its toys--
Its active duties, and its better joys :
'Tis true he weeps for crime--at least his muse ;
And sighs for sorrows that he never views ;
Indulges languid wishes that mankind
Were all poetical, and all refined ;
Forms lofty schemes the flood of vice to stem,
(But preaching Jesus is not one of them ;)
And thus in waking dreams, from day to day,
He wears his tranquil, harmless life away.
But true benevolence is on the wing ;
'Tis not content to look sublime and sing ;
It rises energetic, to perform
The hardest task, or face the rudest storm.
--Crossing the poet's sacred haunt, behold,
One formed in other, and in ruder mould.
Rapid his pace--and see, he checks it not,
To gaze or muse on that sequestered spot :
Perchance his eye, untutored, only sees
In that fine shade,

Morality is about the rightness or the wrongness of something.


--And such was --and he wondered still,
Since he was neither ugly, old, nor ill,
Why town nor country, villa, land, nor sea,
Made him as happy as he wished to be.
Instead of wondering, had he been inclined
To sit and speculate about his mind ;
Observe its inward work and native bent,
And trace the hidden springs of discontent ;
Mark its high destiny, and learn from thence,
Not to insult it with the joys of sense ;
--Then were he nearer to the envied goal,
Than e'er before, with body soul :
The very mental effort were a feast,
Itself, to happiness at least.
But this he knew not, and with fruitless aim
Soon posted back no wiser than he came.
The lessons taught at Disappointment's knee,
Some dunces cannot learn, no more could he.
Where next he sped to find the mystic spell,
And how he failed, the time would fail to tell ;
So close his story with a little fable,
Hoping the muse will drop it on his table.
O day a sage knocked at a chemist's door,
Bringing a curious compound to explore.--
'Behold !

It all depends on the person’s moral standing.

while scoffers laugh, and sceptics doubt,
The poor way-faring man shall find it out.
Indulgence slumbers in the arms of pride,
This sin with that in closest bonds allied ;
And he is still an epicure in kind,
Who lives on pleasure, though it be refined.
'Tis true, the love of nature--genuine taste,
Has ever minds of finest texture graced,
And they who draw no soft emotion thence,
Possess but half a soul, and want a sense :
Yes, and the poet feels its force
With double zest, and tastes it at its source.
--But mark our fond enthusiast where he strays ;
In pensive musings glide his tranquil days ;
In nature's beauties, not content to find
That bliss subordinate which God designed,
--With soothing influence, mid corroding cares,
To cheer the hour of leisure duty spares ;--
It is his very end and chief employ,
To view, invoke, adore it, and enjoy :
He deems his aim and happiness well placed,
Counfounding picturesque, with moral taste.
The village church, in reverend trees arrayed,
His favourite haunt--he loves that holy shade ;
And there he muses many an eve away,
Though not with others, on the Sabbath day.
Nor cares he how they spend the sacred hour,
But--how much ivy grows upon the tower.
Yes, the deluded poet can believe,
The soothing influence of a summer's eve--
That sacred spot--the train of pensive thought,
By osiered grave and sculptured marble brought,
The twilight gloom, the stillness of the hour,
Poetic musings on a church--yard flower,
The moonshine, solitude, and all the rest,
Will raise devotion's flame within his breast :
And while susceptive of the magic spell,
Of sacred music, and the Sabbath bell,
And each emotion nature's form inspires,
He fancies this is all that God requires.
Indeed, the Gospel would have been his scoff,
If man's devices had not set it off ;
For that which turns poor non-conformists sick,
Touches poetic feeling to the quick :
--The gothic edifice, the vaulted dome,
The toys bequeathed us by our cousin Rome,
The pompous festival, the splendid rite,
The mellow window's soft and soothing light,
The painted altar, and the white-robed priest,
(Those gilded keep-sakes from the dying beast)
The silken cassock, and the sable vest,
Please him so well that he endures the rest.
Like him, how many !

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