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a well wisher  
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 26 May 2009 at 4:10pm
 
 
...Finally, what is Reason ?
You have often asked me ;
and this is my answer :-
- Whene'er the mist, that stands 'twixt God and thee,
Sublimates to a pure transparency,
That intercepts no light and adds no stain-
- There Reason is, and then begins her reign !
But alas ! -
-`tu stesso, ti fai grosso Col falso immaginar,
sì che non vedi Ciò che vedresti, se l'avessi scosso.
[You yourself blind yourself With delusion's dream,
so you do not see What you'd see if you had shaken it off.]
 
 
~Samuel Taylor Coleridge~


Edited by a well wisher - 26 May 2009 at 4:11pm
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote Bill2702 Replybullet Posted: 26 May 2009 at 8:47pm
Open your eyes
To blue skies
Open your mind
To being kind
Open your ears
To facing fears
 
Anything free is worth what you pay for it.
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 27 May 2009 at 3:26pm
Thank You Brother Bill ...so true..and when we do all that we open our hearts and when that happens there is no looking back
 
Open your heart
To do your part
 
that would end it well?...what do you think?


Edited by a well wisher - 27 May 2009 at 3:32pm
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 27 May 2009 at 3:34pm
Have no mean hours, but be grateful for every hour, and accept what it brings. The reality will make any sincere record respectable. No day will have been wholly misspent, if one sincere, thoughtful page has been written. Let the daily tide leave some deposit on these pages, as it leaves sand and shells on the shore. So much increase of terra firma. this may be a calendar of the ebbs and flows of the soul; and on these sheets as a beach, the waves may cast up pearls and seaweed.


~Henry David Thoreau~

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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 28 May 2009 at 5:16pm

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,–act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;–

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 28 May 2009 at 7:22pm

In the early years of Muhammad’s prophethood there was fierce persecution at the hands of the polytheists of Makkah. Muhammad and the new Muslims suffered terribly from chastisement, ridicule, slander, an unjust boycott and physical torture. In spite of this, Muhammad remained steadfast, patient and took a non-reproachful attitude throughout those 14 years. Even some of his relatives took part in the vanguard of assailants. His uncle, known in the Qur’an as Abu Lahab, threw stones at him and forced his sons to divorce their wives who were two of Muhammad’s daughters. Abu Lahab’s wife, apart from shouting profanities at him, used to tie bundles of firewood and thorns and throw it in Muhammad’s path. Neighbors threw goat dung on his back while he prayed.

In all cases Muhammad would never return abusive language, slander or ridicule any of them. He would invoke God for help and justice, and in many cases ask God to guide them to Islam. While the Makkan polytheists were torturing the family of Yasser, Muhammad comforted them. He raised his hand in prayer and said, “Be patient, you will verily find your abode in Paradise.”

How The Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) prayed when faced with ignorance in taif:
 
“O Allah, I complain to You of my weakness and my insignificance in the eyes of the people. You are the most Merciful. No matter who You have put me at the mercy of – an enemy who will be stern with me, or a friend to look after my affairs – as long as You are not Angry with me, then I don’t care. However, the relief You bring would be more comfortable for me. I seek refuge with Your Face – for which the darkness has lit up, and the affairs of this world and the next are organized – from being afflicted with Your Wrath or deserving of Your Anger. You have the right to admonish as You please, and there is no might nor power except by Allah."
 
 
 
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 28 May 2009 at 7:46pm
 
Freedom of speech or freedom of slander?
 
 
If your freedom is to criticize
Then its ours to demand that you apologize



Edited by a well wisher - 29 May 2009 at 4:00pm
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 29 May 2009 at 3:59pm

Yellow Glove

What can a yellow glove mean in a world of motorcars and governments?

I was small, like everyone. Life was a string of precautions: Don’t kiss the squirrel before you bury him, don’t suck candy, pop balloons, drop watermelons, watch TV. When the new gloves appeared one Christmas, tucked in soft tissue, I heard it trailing me: Don’t lose the yellow gloves.

I was small, there was too much to remember. One day, waving at a stream—the ice had cracked, winter chipping down, soon we would sail boats and roll into ditches—I let a glove go. Into the stream, sucked under the street. Since when did streets have mouths? I walked home on a desperate road. Gloves cost money. We didn’t have much. I would tell no one. I would wear the yellow glove that was left and keep the other hand in a pocket. I knew my mother’s eyes had tears they had not cried yet, I didn’t want to be the one to make them flow. It was the prayer I spoke secretly, folding socks, lining up donkeys in windowsills. To be good, a promise made to the roaches who scouted my closet at night. If you don’t get in my bed, I will be good. And they listened. I had a lot to fulfill.

The months rolled down like towels out of a machine. I sang and drew and fattened the cat. Don’t scream, don’t lie, don’t cheat, don’t fight—you could hear it anywhere. A pebble could show you how to be smooth, tell the truth. A field could show how to sleep without walls. A stream could remember how to drift and change—next June I was stirring the stream like a soup, telling my brother dinner would be ready if he’d only hurry up with the bread, when I saw it. The yellow glove draped on a twig. A muddy survivor. A quiet flag.

Where had it been in the three gone months? I could wash it, fold it in my winter drawer with its sister, no one in that world would ever know. There were miracles on Harvey Street. Children walked home in yellow light. Trees were reborn and gloves traveled far, but returned. A thousand miles later, what can a yellow glove mean in a world of bankbooks and stereos?

Part of the difference between floating and going down.

~Naomi Shihab Nye~

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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 30 May 2009 at 4:18pm
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 31 May 2009 at 6:58pm
The Choice
The intellect of man is forced to choose
perfection of the life, or of the work,
And if it take the second must refuse
A heavenly mansion, raging in the dark.
When all that story's finished, what's the news?
In luck or out the toil has left its mark:
That old perplexity an empty purse,
Or the day's vanity, the night's remorse.
 
~ William Butler Yeats
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 01 June 2009 at 6:34pm
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 02 June 2009 at 7:45pm
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote a well wisher Replybullet Posted: 03 June 2009 at 4:12pm
 
 
 
Let knowledge grow from more to more,
But more of reverence in us dwell;
That mind and soul, according well,
May make one music as before,
But vaster. We are fools and slight;
We mock thee when we do not fear;
But help Thy foolish ones to bear
Help Thy vain worlds to bear, thy light.
 
~Alfred Tennyson
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Rating: 0 of 0 votes Quote Bill2702 Replybullet Posted: 04 June 2009 at 2:00pm
We judge others by their actions and ourselves by our intentions.
Anything free is worth what you pay for it.
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