Today we have higher buildings and wider highways, but shorter temperments and narrower points of view.
We spend more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses, but smaller families. We have more compromises, but less time. We have more knowledge, but less judgement. We have more medicines, but less health.
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk much, we love only a little, and we hate too much.
We reached the moon and came back, but we find it troublesome to cross our own street and meet our neighbors. We have conquered the outer space, but not our inner space.
We have higher income, but less morals… These are times with more liberty, but less joy… With much more food, but less nutrition…
These are days in which two salaries come home, but divorces increase. These are times of finer houses, but more broken homes.
That’s why I propose that as of today -- You do not keep anything for a special occasion, because every day that you live is a special occasion. Search for knowledge, read more, sit on your front porch and admire the view without paying attention to the needs. Pass more time with your family, eat your favorite food, visit the place you love. Life is a chain of moments of enjoyment; it isn’t only survival.
Use your crystal goblets. Do not save your best perfume… use it every time you feel you want it. Take out from your vocabulary phrases like, “one of these days” and “someday”. Let’s write that letter we thought of writing “one of these days…”
Let’s tell our families and friends how much we love them. Never pass up a chance at adding laughter and joy to your life. Every day, hour, and minute are special… Because you never know if it will be your last…
If you’re too busy to take some minutes to share this message with someone you love, and you tell yourself that you will share it “one of these days”… “one of these days” can be very far away, and you may not be there to see it…
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
Dont Quit!!!
When things go wrong as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest if you must, but don't you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don't give up though the pace seems slow--
You may succeed with another blow,
Success is failure turned inside out--
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems so far;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit--
It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.
When the road you're trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest if you must, but don't you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don't give up though the pace seems slow--
You may succeed with another blow,
Success is failure turned inside out--
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems so far;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit--
It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Just an Imagination
Going on a long long drive
Your Dream partner by your side
A Nice weather and an empty road
Speed is 60 not any more
Trees and Plants all around
Fragrance of flowers - surround
Some Lovely Songs - Make you Long
That this journey never Halt
Hand in Hand - Spend the time
From the morning till the dawn
Your Dream partner by your side
A Nice weather and an empty road
Speed is 60 not any more
Trees and Plants all around
Fragrance of flowers - surround
Some Lovely Songs - Make you Long
That this journey never Halt
Hand in Hand - Spend the time
From the morning till the dawn
A Love Story
One summer day, hot and humid,
she, with windows open, fans going, was standing
letting the air blow an ice cube
up and down her arms, around her neck,
thinking, a man to run his finger up her arm
like this ice cube, making goose bumps
as a knock on the door made her jump,
feeling guilty somehow for her thoughts.
On the porch was a man looking with a grin
at her feelings, she thought,
selling Bibles, he said.
She watched his face, not listening;
the way his lips moved, the straight line of his teeth,
the crease that appeared, then disappeared
from the corner of his eye.
She had wished for a man and this one had appeared.
He told her about college and selling Bibles door to door
to support himself, to help his family.
He told her about his three young sisters
and one brother, how his mom was sick
his dad having trouble.
She bought a Bible, of course.
She bought a Bible, even though she already had one.
How could she not buy a Bible from this man?
Usually, words flowed from her like music
from an early morning song- bird.
How to make him stay, after the Bible was in her hand
and the dull day was threatening return?
The ice melted slowly in her hand
making a wet spot on the bodice of her dress.
She thought of the heat and this man trudging with his
sacred suitcase full of the Word, and the ice slowly melting
on her chances.
He stayed drinking ice tea as shadows fell on the day
and the afternoon breeze curled the pages
of the Bible that lay on the table between them.
They were married in the spring
and they had just planted a garden,
when he was drafted.
She kept him safe under her pillow
where his love touched her
with long and passionate letters.
Killing was not in him and he was sick
from the fear of it, he said.
He had seen his friend turn in the middle of a laugh
into a land mine and disappear.
After that he kept to himself, afraid friendship would breed more pain.
One cool evening as she turned the bed down
and touched the stack of envelops as tenderly as skin,
she was with him in the trenches watching
the quiet of the morning.
She could hear the birds, her love's loud breathing
and a frantic heart-beat.
Was it his? Was it hers?
Be still, she said,
but, he was running up the hill
away, away,
then the hill exploded
like red rain.
she, with windows open, fans going, was standing
letting the air blow an ice cube
up and down her arms, around her neck,
thinking, a man to run his finger up her arm
like this ice cube, making goose bumps
as a knock on the door made her jump,
feeling guilty somehow for her thoughts.
On the porch was a man looking with a grin
at her feelings, she thought,
selling Bibles, he said.
She watched his face, not listening;
the way his lips moved, the straight line of his teeth,
the crease that appeared, then disappeared
from the corner of his eye.
She had wished for a man and this one had appeared.
He told her about college and selling Bibles door to door
to support himself, to help his family.
He told her about his three young sisters
and one brother, how his mom was sick
his dad having trouble.
She bought a Bible, of course.
She bought a Bible, even though she already had one.
How could she not buy a Bible from this man?
Usually, words flowed from her like music
from an early morning song- bird.
How to make him stay, after the Bible was in her hand
and the dull day was threatening return?
The ice melted slowly in her hand
making a wet spot on the bodice of her dress.
She thought of the heat and this man trudging with his
sacred suitcase full of the Word, and the ice slowly melting
on her chances.
He stayed drinking ice tea as shadows fell on the day
and the afternoon breeze curled the pages
of the Bible that lay on the table between them.
They were married in the spring
and they had just planted a garden,
when he was drafted.
She kept him safe under her pillow
where his love touched her
with long and passionate letters.
Killing was not in him and he was sick
from the fear of it, he said.
He had seen his friend turn in the middle of a laugh
into a land mine and disappear.
After that he kept to himself, afraid friendship would breed more pain.
One cool evening as she turned the bed down
and touched the stack of envelops as tenderly as skin,
she was with him in the trenches watching
the quiet of the morning.
She could hear the birds, her love's loud breathing
and a frantic heart-beat.
Was it his? Was it hers?
Be still, she said,
but, he was running up the hill
away, away,
then the hill exploded
like red rain.
A Journey... called Life
Ever wondered what life is all about
A journey with many stations
But only the route is not fixed
Stopping at stations big and small
Passengers board and get down
Some for a few stations
Some till the final destination
Whistling past as it runs
Bringing smiles and cheers as it goes
Carrying baggage and people
Gathering speed or slowing down
Thru winter, summer and rain
Thru deserts, mountains and fields
Over a bridge or thru a long tunnel
Running all day and all night
Till finally it is time to say goodbye
Dreams, aspirations, hope and emotions
The fuel for the engine is all exhausted
And now it rests in peace
Waiting for the next journey
A journey with many stations
But only the route is not fixed
Stopping at stations big and small
Passengers board and get down
Some for a few stations
Some till the final destination
Whistling past as it runs
Bringing smiles and cheers as it goes
Carrying baggage and people
Gathering speed or slowing down
Thru winter, summer and rain
Thru deserts, mountains and fields
Over a bridge or thru a long tunnel
Running all day and all night
Till finally it is time to say goodbye
Dreams, aspirations, hope and emotions
The fuel for the engine is all exhausted
And now it rests in peace
Waiting for the next journey
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