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| Quotations - Conversation | [Quote No.51659] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity!" - Walt Whitman
(1819-1892), U.S. poet. From 'Leaves of Grass', preface (1855).
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| [Quote No.51689] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"You're going to come across people in your life who will say all the right words at all the right times. But in the end, it's always their actions you should judge them by." - Nicholas Sparks
American novelist
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| [Quote No.51692] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"The awareness of our own strength makes us modest [humble]!" - Paul Cezanne
French artist
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| [Quote No.51709] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"Conversation at its best is like a hearty soup:
a number of different ingredients -- some familiar, some new -- harmoniously blended together; a little spice added for flavor; and an overall result that is nourishing as well as satisfying." - Dr. Mardy Grothe
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| [Quote No.51721] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[No censorship and therefore freedom of thought, speech and the press allows diversity of opinion and a better search for truth:] He who closes his ears to the views of others shows little confidence in the integrity of his own views." - William Congreve
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| [Quote No.51736] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"Each of us is born with a box of matches inside us but we can't strike them all by ourselves!" - Laura Esquivel
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| [Quote No.51756] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak. Courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen." - Winston Churchill
(1874 - 1965) British Politician
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| [Quote No.51765] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"If you have an important point to make, don't try to be subtle or clever. Use a pile driver. Hit the point once. Then come back and hit it again. Then hit it a third time -- a tremendous whack!" - Winston Churchill
(1874-1965) Prime Minister of the United Kingdom
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| [Quote No.51818] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"The true secret of giving advice is, after you have honestly given it, to be perfectly indifferent whether it is taken or not, and never persist in trying to set people right." - Hannah Smith
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| [Quote No.51851] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[Freedom of thought, speech and the press versus censorship:] Books cannot be killed by fire. People die, but books never die. No man and no force can put thought in a concentration camp forever. No man and no force can take from the world the books that embody man’s eternal fight against tyranny. In this war, we know, books are weapons." - Franklin D. Roosevelt
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| [Quote No.51864] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[Apologising for a mistake:] New York City mayor Fiorello La Guardia once said, 'When I make a mistake, it's a beaut.' That sentiment perfectly captures how I feel about a mistake I made in last week's newsletter, identifying Lisbon as being in Spain, not Portugal.
How could I make such a mistake? I can only cite the words of Samuel Johnson, who was once asked a similar question by a woman who found a major error in his famed dictionary. His reply? 'Ignorance, Madam, pure ignorance.'
" - Dr. Mardy Grothe
Dr. Mardy's Quotes of the Week -- Oct. 12 - 18, 2014.
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| [Quote No.51887] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"Trust only movement; what a person does is what he means." - Alfred Adler
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| [Quote No.51894] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"Conversation at its best is like a hearty soup: a number of different ingredients -- some familiar, some new -- harmoniously blended together; a little spice added for flavor; and an overall result that is nourishing as well as satisfying." - Dr. Mardy Grothe
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| [Quote No.51895] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[Politicians and others who have opinions that differ should remember...] Ideological differences are no excuse for rudeness.
" - Judith Martin
etiquette guide also known as 'Miss Manners'.
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| [Quote No.51898] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"Manners must adorn knowledge, and smooth its way in the world." - Lord Chesterfield (Philip Dormer Stanhope)
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| [Quote No.51900] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"Good manners is the art of making those people easy with whom we converse. Whoever makes the fewest persons uneasy, is the best bred [or mannered, most polite] in the company." - Jonathan Swift
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| [Quote No.51904] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"You can stroke people with words." - F. Scott Fitzgerald
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| [Quote No.51922] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[A story - with a message about criticising others:] Aesop's Fables - The Two Bags - Every man, according to an ancient legend, is born into the world with two bags suspended from his neck all bag in front full of his neighbors' faults, and a large bag behind filled with his own faults. Hence it is that men are quick to see the faults of others, and yet are often blind to their own failings!" - Aesop
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| [Quote No.51925] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[A story - with a message about the need for skepticism, careful investigation, questioning and evidence before making decisions and judgements lest silly or tragic mistakes are made:] Death of a Hero - The accompanying illustration tells a story my mother told me as a youngster. Don't be hasty, especially when angry. Weigh things carefully before you strike. When your blood pressure gets up, count ten. 'School Thy Feelings, Oh, My Brother' is one of the best bits of advice ever given. Beware of mistakes made in taking too seriously circumstantial evidence. Think before you act. Don't forget that truth is very often stranger than fiction.
This trapper's wife was brought to the Alaska wilderness. She was cut down by death. Their child was about two years old. To go out in the woods in the course of this trapping, the trapper had sometimes left the child for a few hours in the care of their faithful dog. On such an absence one afternoon a terrible blizzard came up. The storm was so terrible that he had to take refuge in a hollow tree to save his life. At daybreak he rushed to his cabin. The door was open. His dog who looked at him from the corner of his eyes was covered with blood. The father's blood froze in his veins. Just one thing had happened ~ his dog had turned wolf and had killed his child. He reached for the ax and in a moment the same was buried into the skull of his trusted animal.
Like a maniac he scanned the scene. In hopeless desperation he uncovered the gruesome remnants of his cabin. Tipper over, the cracked furniture was telling a story of a battle that had taken place here an hour before. A faint cry came from under the bed. Again his heart seemed paralyzed. There he found his offspring safe and sound. Just a moment of pause to cuddle his dear on in his arms and he was to determine whence the blood on his dog came. The answer came just a second later. The sad riddle was solved. In a remote corner, there it was ~ a dead wolf, his huge mouth showing fangs intended for the baby which his faithful dog had saved!
Just a moment of caution and he could have held both his child and his hero dog in his arms. Remorse took over instead.
" - Marvin O. Ashton
This story is found in the book, 'Aspiring to Greatness'. The story is similar to the famous poem, 'Beth Gelert, or the Grave of the Greyhound' by the English poet, William Robert Spencer (1770–1834).
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| [Quote No.51926] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[A story - with a message about handling anger through distraction from and mentally replacing the attention from the thing that caused the anger rather than focusing even more time and energy on it:] - Easy Does It! - For years, psychology gurus have recommended blowing off steam when you're angry -- as long as no one is harmed. We've been told that hitting a punching bag or throwing our fist into a pillow will help alleviate the tension.
Well, new research indicates that the opposite effect may occur. Your quick-release steam valve may actually increase your anger.
In a study conducted by psychologists from Iowa State University and Case Western Reserve, 700 college students who were insulted by an unseen partner, were placed in a situation where they could direct a blast of noise at the person they believe insulted them.
The control group tried to let off steam by hitting a punching bag for two minutes. It didn't matter. In fact, their responses became even more angry. The findings were reported in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology.
I am convinced the best way to reduce anger is to take a few deep breaths and let negative feelings dissipate slowly. Blowing your top -- even if no one hears you -- is tough on your nervous system." - Neil Eskelin
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| [Quote No.51928] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[A story - with a message about the negative effects of anger and yelling on ourselves and others:] -
Falling Trees - In the Solomon Islands in the south Pacific some villagers practice a unique form of logging. If a tree is too large to be felled with an ax, the natives cut it down by yelling at it. (Can't lay my hands on the article, but I swear I read it.) Woodsmen with special powers creep up on a tree just at dawn and suddenly scream at it at the top of their lungs. They continue this for thirty days. The tree dies and falls over. The theory is that the hollering kills the spirit of the tree. According to the villagers, it always works.
Ah, those poor nave innocents. Such quaintly charming habits of the jungle. Screaming at trees, indeed. How primitive. Too bad thay don't have the advantages of modern technology and the scientific mind.
Me? I yell at my wife. And yell at the telephone and the lawn mower. And yell at the TV and the newspaper and my children. I've been known to shake my fist and yell at the sky at times.
Man next door yells at his car a lot. And this summer I heard him yell at a stepladder for most of an afternoon. We modern, urban, educated folks yell at traffic and umpires and bills and banks and machines--especially machines. Machines and relatives get most of the yelling.
Don't know what good it does. Machines and things just sit there. Even kicking doesn't always help. As for people, well, the Solomon Islanders may have a point. Yelling at living things does tend to kill the spirit in them. Sticks and stones may break our bones, but words will break our hearts....
" - Robert Fulghum
'All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten'
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| [Quote No.51933] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[A story - with a message about the need for skepticism, careful investigation, questioning and evidence before making decisions and judgements and comments, especially when angry or frustrated, lest silly, tragic or embarrassing mistakes are made:] - A Harsh Word - A woman bought eggs and butter from a farmer who had a fine reputation not only for the quality of his products, but also for his promptness of delivery. Then one day, when she was expecting guests, he failed to come. On the next delivery, she spoke harshly to him. At the end of her tirade he said quietly, 'I'm sorry if I caused you any inconvenience, but I had the misfortune of burying my mother yesterday.'
Ashamed, the woman determined never to speak harshly to anyone again until she fully understood the cause of the delay." - Rev. A. Purnell Bailey
'CyberStory'
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| [Quote No.51992] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[A story - with a message about using the Golden Rule of treating others as you'd like to be treated, being empathetic and tactful.] - The Essence of Tact -
A Sultan called in one of his seers and asked how long he would live. 'Sire,' said the seer, 'you would live to see all your sons dead.' The sultan flew into a rage and handed the prophet over to his guards for execution.
He then called for a second seer, and asked him the same question. 'Sire,' said the prophet, 'I see you bleessed with long life, so long that you will outlive all your family.' The sultan was delighted and rewarded this seer with gold and silver jewelry.
Both prophets knew the truth, but one had tact, the other did not." - Fr. Brian Cavanaugh, TOR
Fr. Brian Cavanaugh, TOR (Third Order Franciscan). He has authored a number of books including the excellent 'The Sower's Seeds: Revised and Expanded - 120 Inspiring Stories for Preaching, Teaching and Public Speaking', (2004), where this story is found.
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| [Quote No.51993] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[A story - with a message: be careful what you say, because words can’t be unsaid.] - Gossiper -
A woman repeated a bit of gossip about a neighbor.Within a few days the whole community knew the story. The person it concerned was deeply hurt and offended. Later the woman responsible for spreading the rumor learned that it was completely untrue. She was very sorry and went to a wise old sage to find out what she could do to repair the damage.
'Go to the marketplace,' he said, 'and purchase a chicken, and have it killed. Then on your way home, pluck its feathers and drop them one by one along the road.' Although surprised by this advice, the woman did what she was told.
The next day the wise man said, 'Now go and collect all those feathers you dropped yesterday and bring them back to me.'
The woman followed the same road, but to her dismay, the wind had blown the feathers all away. After searching for hours, she returned with only three in her hand. 'You see,' said the old sage, 'it's easy to drop them, but it's impossible to get them back. So it is with gossip. It doesn't take much to spread a rumor, but once you do, you can never completely undo the wrong.' " - Jack Canfield, Kimberly Kirberger, and Mark Victor Hansen
'Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul'
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| [Quote No.51994] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[A story - with a message about trying to hear the meaning behind the words that people use to understand them deeply.] - Grandmother's Vase -
One day I was lying on the bed, reading, when my mother came into the room. She held out a vase--a rather ugly vase. She asked, 'Would you like to have this vase?'
‘I replied quickly, 'No, I don't want it.'
‘As she turned to walk away, I picked up something that said to me, 'Wait a minute, don't shut this off yet.' So I asked, 'Where did you get it?'
‘She said, 'Oh, I got it when I filled an order.' Filled an order? I thought--no communication here. So I asked, 'What do you mean, filled an order?'
'Well,' she said, 'when I was a little girl, the Smith Company mailed catalogs to people. I would take the catalog around the neighborhood, and I'd get people to order from it. When I filled an order and sent it in, they gave me a prize. One time, I got a porch swing for my family.'
‘Now you have to understand,’ said Hensley, ‘that my mother is 81 years old. She is one of six children in a family that her father deserted when she was quite young. Money was real hard to come by. My grandmother managed to keep the family together through the years, although I don't know how. For my mother to win a luxury like a porch swing was a significant accomplishment. Although she no longer had the swing, she had the vase--a vase full of meaning--which she offered to me. Instantly I said, 'Mom, I want the vase.' Now it sits in a prominent place in my living room. It symbolizes a precious meaning which my mother and I share: Unless you and I are sensitive to the other person and hear meaning, we may well have a communication problem." - Unknown
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| [Quote No.51995] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[A story - with a message about the dangers of gossiping and speaking unkindly about someone - especially behind their back when they can't defend themselves and you wouldn't dare say it if they were with you.] Hazards - Over the years I have learned what harm can come from gossip or just talking about other people.
In my work place, gossip is a big problem, which is heightened by a couple of women who actually feel the need to stretch and twist certain bits of information, simply for the sake of turning staff against each other.
Having been on the receiving end of their back stabbing, I have become very aware of what I say and to whom. I have prayed to God for help in being straightforward with people, and not say anything that might get back to someone who could be hurt by my words.
One night, I was on the phone with my sister in law, Dawn. I had called her to let her know our husbands would have to work very late that Saturday night due to some machinery problems. She was carrying on about not getting anything done that day since they were due to move out of their apartment by that next Friday. I mentioned that sixteen hours at time-and-a-half pay would certainly make up for it. She was OK with that, but said it would not make much difference when they had to pay the whole next month's rent if they were not out by the end of the week. I acknowledged her point, but figured either way, they wouldn't really be out any expected money.
The next day, while my husband, Arlo, was helping his brother move, my dad called hoping to also enlist Arlo's help.
I have 3-way calling on our phone, so I clicked over and called my brother in law's house, leaving a message on the answering machine for Arlo to call my dad when he could.
I clicked back over to my Dad and began telling him about the long day Arlo and his brother had put in. We inadvertently got on the subject of Dawn, who was not so thrilled about the time they had lost for moving. Dad agreed that for the money they made, it was worth it. Then I mentioned that SHE should have 'gotten off her butt and did something herself...'
Monday evening came along and Arlo walked in the house, looked at me, and began laughing as he headed into the next room. He did a sort of double take and said, ‘Brenda, next time you are talking bad about someone, make sure the three-way calling is disconnected.’
Almost immediately I knew what he was talking about, but I wasn't exactly sure what all I had said.
Dawn's answering machine had picked up the entire conversation between Dad and me!
Arlo and his brother thought the situation was hysterical. Of course, men tend not to let things like that get to them. However, I know Dawn well enough to know she would be pretty upset, especially after both of our husbands spent the afternoon laughing at her and making cracks about her getting off her lazy butt.
Wondering how I was going to fix this one, I stopped by to apologize a couple of times, but Dawn wasn't around. After a couple of weeks, I finally spoke to her. When she picked up the phone I tried to make a joke of it, but she did not see the humor in it.
After this incident, I got to thinking. Lately, I have become very comfortable with some people and have found myself slipping back into the gossip mode I had worked so hard to get myself out of. I sort of wonder if this was God's way of washing my mouth out with soap. I certainly didn't forget the taste when I was a kid.
I won't forget it now." - Brenda Christensen
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| [Quote No.51996] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[Do not gossip or share real secrets with anyone: silence alone is golden.] If you would keep your secret from an enemy, tell it not to a friend. [He also said 'Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead.'] " - Ben Franklin
From his 'Poor Richard's Almanack'.
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| [Quote No.51999] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[A true story - with a message about the power of really listening.] - Just Listen - I suspect that the most basic and powerful way to connect to another person is to listen. Just listen. Perhaps the most important thing we ever give each other is our attention. And especially if it's given from the heart. When people are talking, there's no need to do anything but receive them. Just take them in. Listen to what they're saying. Care about it. Most times caring about it is even more important than understanding it. Most of us don't value ourselves or our love enough to know this. It has taken me a long time to believe in the power of simple saying, 'I'm so sorry,' when someone is in pain. And meaning it.
One of my patients told me that when she tried to tell her story people often interrupted to tell her that they once had something just like that happen to them. Subtly her pain became a story about themselves. Eventually she stopped talking to most people. It was just too lonely. We connect through listening. When we interrupt what someone is saying to let them know that we understand, we move the focus of attention to ourselves. When we listen, they know we care. Many people with cancer can talk about the relief of having someone just listen.
I have even learned to respond to someone crying by just listening. In the old days I used to reach for the tissues, until I realized that passing a person a tissue may be just another way to shut them down, to take them out of their experience of sadness and grief. Now I just listen. When they have cried all they need to cry, they find me there with them.
This simple thing has not been that easy to learn. It certainly went against everything I had been taught since I was very young. I thought people listened only because they were too timid to speak or did not know the answer. A loving silence often has far more power to heal and to connect than the most well intentioned words." - Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen
Doctor, author, teacher, and pioneer in integrative medicine and the mind/body holistic health movement. Quote from her book, 'Kitchen Table Wisdom'.
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| [Quote No.52001] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[A story - with a message about the power of letting people speak and listening.] - Keep Quiet You! - A police officer in a small town stopped a motorist who was speeding down Main Street. 'But officer,' the man began, 'I can explain...' 'Just be quiet,' snapped the officer. 'I'm going to let you cool your heels in jail until the chief gets back.' 'But, officer, I just wanted to say...,' 'And I said to keep quiet! You're going to jail!'
A few hours later the officer looked in on his prisoner and said, 'Lucky for you that the chief's at his daughter's wedding. He'll be in a good mood when he gets back.' 'Don't count on it,' answered the fellow in the cell. 'I'm the groom!'
" - Unknown
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| [Quote No.52009] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"Nobody's Friend: My name is Gossip.
I have no respect for justice.
I maim without killing.
I break hearts and ruin lives.
I am cunning and malicious
and gather strength with age.
The more I am quoted, the
more I am believed.
My victims are helpless. They
cannot protect themselves
against me because I have no
name and no face.
To track me down is impossible.
The harder you try, the
more elusive I become.
I am nobody's friend.
Once I tarnish a reputation,
it is never the same.
I topple governments
and wreck marriages.
I ruin careers
and cause sleepless nights,
heartaches,
and indigestion.
I make innocent people cry in their pillows.
Even my name hisses.
I am called Gossip.
I make headlines and headaches.
Before you repeat a story,
ask yourself:
Is it true?
Is it harmless?
Is it necessary?
If it isn't, don't repeat it.
" - Unknown
Atlanta Journal/Atlanta Constitution, L-16, May 5, 1995.
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| [Quote No.52010] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[A poem: about the power and reach of words, whether negative like gossip or criticism or positive like praise and thanks]
'A Pebble'
Drop a pebble in the water:
just a splash, and it is gone;
But there's half-a-hundred ripples
circling on and on and on,
Spreading, spreading from the center,
flowing on out to the sea.
And there is no way of telling
where the end is going to be.
Drop a pebble in the water:
in a minute you forget,
But there's little waves a-flowing,
and there's ripples circling yet,
And those little waves a-flowing
to a great big wave have grown;
You've disturbed a mighty river
just by dropping in a stone.
Drop an unkind word, or careless:
in a minute it is gone;
But there's half-a-hundred ripples
circling on and on and on.
They keep spreading, spreading, spreading
from the center as they go,
And there is no way to stop them,
once you've started them to flow.
Drop an unkind word, or careless:
in a minute you forget;
But there's little waves a-flowing,
and there's ripples circling yet,
And perhaps in some sad heart
a mighty wave of tears you've stirred,
And disturbed a life was happy
ere you dropped that unkind word.
Drop a word of cheer and kindness:
just a flash and it is gone;
But there's half-a-hundred ripples
circling on and on and on,
Bearing hope and joy and comfort
on each splashing, dashing wave
Till you wouldn't believe the volume
of the one kind word you gave.
Drop a word of cheer and kindness:
in a minute you forget;
But there's gladness still a-swelling,
and there's joy circling yet,
And you've rolled a wave of comfort
whose sweet music can be heard
Over miles and miles of water
just by dropping one kind word.
" - James W. Foley
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| [Quote No.52012] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[A true story - with a message about communicating even without words.] - The Right Moves - One day, many years ago, when I was working as a psychologist at a children's institution in England, an adolescent boy showed up in the waiting room. I went out there where he was walking up and down restlessly.
I showed him into my office and pointed to the chair on the other side of my desk. It was in late autumn, and the lilac bush outside the window had shed all its leaves. 'Please sit down,' I said.
David wore a black rain coat that was buttoned all the way up to his neck. His face was pale, and he stared at his feet while wringing his hands nervously. He had lost his father as an infant, and had lived together with his mother and grandfather since. But the year before David turned 13, his grandfather died and his mother was killed in a car accident. Now he was 14 and in family care.
His head teacher had referred him to me. 'This boy,' he wrote, 'is understandably very sad and depressed. He refuses to talk to others and I'm very worried about him. Can you help?'
I looked at David. How could I help him? There are human tragedies psychology doesn't have the answer to, and which no words can describe. Sometimes the best thing one can do is to listen openly and sympathetically.
The first two times we met, David didn't say a word. He sat hunched up in the chair and only looked up to look at the children's drawings on the wall behind me. As he was about to leave after the second visit, I put my hand on his shoulder. He didn't shrink back, but he didn't look at me either.
'Come back next week, if you like,' I said. I hesitated a bit. Then I said, 'I know it hurts.'
He came, and I suggested we play a game of chess. He nodded. After that we played chess every Wednesday afternoon - in complete silence and without making any eye contact. It's not easy to cheat in chess, but I admit that I made sure David won once or twice.
Usually, he arrived earlier than agreed, took the chessboard and pieces from the shelf and began setting them up before I even got a chance to sit down. It seemed as if he enjoyed my company. But why did he never look at me?
'Perhaps he simply needs someone to share his pain with,' I thought. 'Perhaps he senses that I respect his suffering.' One afternoon in late winter, David took off his rain coat and put it on the back of the chair. While he was setting up the chess pieces, his face seemed more alive and his motions more lively.
Some months later, when the lilacs blossomed outside, I sat starring at David's head, while he was bent over the chessboard. I thought about how little we know about therapy - about the mysterious process associated with healing. Suddenly, he looked up at me.
'It's your turn,' he said.
After that day, David started talking. He got friends in school and joined a bicycle club. He wrote to me a few times ('I'm biking with some friends and I feel great'); letters about how he would try to get into university. After some time, the letters stopped. Now he had really started to live his own life.
Maybe I gave David something. At least I learned a lot from him. I learned how time makes it possible to overcome what seems to be an insuperable pain. I learned to be there for people who need me. And David showed me how one - without any words - can reach out to another person. All it takes is a hug, a shoulder to cry on, a friendly touch, a sympathetic nature - and an ear that listens." - Tom Crabtree
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"[A story - with a message about treating everyone gently and kindly, as if they are going through difficulties , because, even if they aren't easily seen, everyone has them.] - Snap Judgment - While on a walk one day, I was surprised to see a man hoeing his garden while sitting in a chair.
'What laziness!' I thought. But suddenly I saw, leaning against his chair, a pair of crutches. The man was at work despite his handicap.
The lesson I learned about snap judgments that day has stayed with me for years now: the crosses people bear are seldom in plain sight." - Unknown
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"[A poem about empathy:]
Now I know I never knew,
when you lost your child,
What you were going through.
I wasn't there,
I stayed away,
I just deserted you.
I didn't know the words to say,
I didn't know the things to do.
I think your pain so frightened me,
I didn't know how to comfort you.
And then one day my child died.
You were the first one there.
You quietly stayed by my side, listened,
And held me as I cried.
You didn't leave, you didn't go.
The lesson learned is . . . Now I know.
" - Alice Kerr
From Lower Bucks, Bucks County, Pennsylvania, USA. She is a member of the Compassionate Friends, an organization for parents who have lost a child.
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"[A story - with a message about optimism versus pessimism.] - The World's Most Communicative Disease - There is a funny story in circulation about an optimistic farmer who couldn't wait to greet each new day with a resounding, ‘Good morning, God!’ He lived near a woman whose morning greeting was more like, ‘Good God... morning?’ They were each a trial to the other. Where he saw opportunity, she saw problems. Where he was satisfied, she was discontented.
One bright morning he exclaimed, ‘Look at the beautiful sky! Did you see that glorious sunrise?’
‘Yeah,’ she countered. ‘It'll probably get so hot the crops will scorch!’
During an afternoon shower, he commented, ‘Isn't this wonderful? Mother Nature is giving the corn a drink today!’
‘And if it doesn't stop before too long,’ came the sour reply, ‘we'll wish we'd taken out flood insurance on the crops!’
Convinced that he could instill some awe and wonder in her hardened attitude, he bought a remarkable dog. Not just any mutt, but the most expensive, highly-trained and gifted dog he could find. The animal was exquisite! It could perform remarkable and impossible feats which, the farmer thought, would surely amaze even his neighbor. So he invited her to watch his dog perform.
‘Fetch!’ he commanded, as he tossed a stick out into a lake, where it bobbed up and down in the rippling water. The dog bounded after the stick, walked ON the water, and retrieved it.
‘What do you think of that?’ he asked, smiling.
‘Hmmm,’ she frowned. ‘Can't swim, can he?’
Sometimes I think that negative thoughts are the world's most communicative diseases. More catching than any known virus, and just as deadly. But an attitude of awe and wonder can be just as contagious!
Which will you be spreading today?
" - Steve Goodier
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"[Freedom of thought, speech, expression, press and the pernicious effects of censorship and propaganda:] In the United States, national and local government and public health authorities badly mishandled the [1918 'Spanish Flu'] epidemic [which killed up to 50 million people worldwide], offering a useful case study.
The context is important. Every country engaged in World War I tried to control public perception. To avoid hurting morale, even in the nonlethal first wave [of the Spanish Flu pandemic] the press in countries fighting in the war [World War I] did not mention the outbreak. (But Spain was not at war and its press wrote about it, so the pandemic became known as the Spanish flu).
The United States was no different. In 1917 California Senator Hiram Johnson made the since-famous observation that 'The first casualty when war comes is truth.' The U.S. government passed a law that made it punishable by 20 years in jail to 'utter, print, write or publish any disloyal, profane, scurrilous, or abusive language about the government of the United States.'
One could go to jail for cursing or criticizing the government, even if what one said was true. A Congressman was jailed. Simultaneously, the government mounted a massive propaganda effort. An architect of that effort said, 'Truth and falsehood are arbitrary terms.... There is nothing in experience to tell us that one is always preferable to the other.... The force of an idea lies in its inspirational value. It matters very little if it is true or false' (Vaughn, 1980).
The combination of rigid control and disregard for truth had dangerous consequences. Focusing on the shortest term, local officials almost universally told half-truths or outright lies to avoid damaging morale and the war effort. They were assisted - not challenged - by the press, which although not censored in a technical sense cooperated fully with the government's propaganda machine.
...horrific disconnect between reassurances and reality destroyed the credibility of those in authority. People felt they had no one to turn to, no one to rely on, no one to trust.
Ultimately society depends on trust. Without it, society began to come apart.
...Of course, the disease generated fear independent of anything officials did or did not do, but the false reassurances given by the authorities and the media systematically destroyed trust. That magnified the fear and turned it into panic and terror.
It is worth noting that this terror, at least in paralyzing form, did not seem to materialize in the few places where authorities told the truth.
One lesson is clear from this experience: In handling any crisis, it is absolutely crucial to retain credibility. Giving false reassurance is the worst thing one can do. If I may speculate, let me suggest that almost as bad as outright lying is holding information so closely that people think officials know more than they say." - John M. Barry
Distinguished Visiting Scholar at the Center for Bioenvironmental Research at Tulane and Xavier Universities at a scientific workshop entitled 'The Threat of Pandemic Influenza: Are We Ready?'
Barry’s 2004 book 'The Great Influenza: The Epic Story of the Greatest Plague in History' was a New York Times Best Seller, and won the 2005 Keck Communication Award from the United States National Academies of Science for the year’s outstanding book on science or medicine. In 2005 he also won the 'September 11th Award' from the Center for Biodefense and Emerging Pathogens at Brown University. Barry has served on a federal government’s Infectious Disease Board of Experts, on the advisory board of MIT’s Center for Engineering Fundamentals, and on the advisory committee at Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health for its Center for Refugee and Disaster Response. [Refer http://www.zerohedge.com/news/2014-11-04/government-lied-about-pandemic-which-killed-50-million-people-%E2%80%A6-attempt-%E2%80%9Cprevent-pan and the U.S. National Academies of Science report in 2005, starting on the bottom of p.64: http://www.nap.edu/openbook.php?record_id=11150&page=64 ]
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"Being honest may not get you a lot of friends but it'll always get you the right ones." - John Lennon
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"[Usually] Knowledge speaks, but [usually] wisdom listens." - Jimi Hendrix
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"[A true story - with a message about being honest especially if it is about having done the wrong thing as lying only makes the thing and the eventual punishment worse.] - The Cherry Tree - When George Washington [the future first President of the United States of America] was about six years old, he was made the wealthy master of a hatchet of which, like most little boys, he was extremely fond. He went about chopping everything that came his way.
One day, as he wandered about the garden amusing himself by hacking his mother's pea- sticks, he found a beautiful, young English cherry tree, of which his father was most proud. He tried the edge of his hatchet on the trunk of the tree and barked it so that it died.
Some time after this, his father discovered what had happened to his favorite tree. He came into the house in great anger, and demanded to know who the mischievous person was who had cut away the bark. Nobody could tell him anything about it.
Just then George, with his little hatchet, came into the room.
'George,' said his father, 'do you know who has killed my beautiful little cherry tree yonder in the garden? I would not have taken five guineas for it!'
This was a hard question to answer, and for a moment George was staggered by it, but quickly recovering himself he cried: --
'I cannot tell a lie, father, you know I cannot tell a lie! I did cut it with my little hatchet.'
The anger died out of his father's face, and taking the boy tenderly in his arms, he said: --
'My son, that you should not be afraid to tell the truth is more to me than a thousand trees! Yes, though they were blossomed with silver and had leaves of the purest gold!'
" - M.L.Weems
'Good Stories for Great Holidays'
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"[A story - with a message about the value of having the courage to be honest!] - The Emperor's Seed - Once there was an emperor in the Far East who was growing old and knew it was coming time to choose his successor. Instead of choosing one of his assistants or one of his own children, he decided to do something different.
He called all the young people in the kingdom together one day. He said, 'It has come time for me to step down and to choose the next emperor. I have decided to choose one of you.' The kids were shocked! But the emperor continued. 'I am going to give each one of you a seed today. One seed. It is a very special seed. I want you to go home, plant the seed, water it and come back here one year from today with what you have grown from this one seed. I will then judge the plants that you bring to me, and the one I choose will be the next emperor of the kingdom!'
There was one boy named Ling who was there that day and he, like the others, received a seed. He went home and excitedly told his mother the whole story. She helped him get a pot and some planting soil, and he planted the seed and watered it carefully. Every day he would water it and watch to see if it had grown.
After about three weeks, some of the other youths began to talk about their seeds and the plants that were beginning to grow. Ling kept going home and checking his seed, but nothing ever grew. Three weeks, four weeks, five weeks went by. Still nothing.
By now others were talking about their plants but Ling didn't have a plant, and he felt like a failure. Six months went by, still nothing in Ling's pot. He just knew he had killed his seed. Everyone else had trees and tall plants, but he had nothing. Ling didn't say anything to his friends, however. He just kept waiting for his seed to grow.
A year finally went by and all the youths of the kingdom brought their plants to the emperor for inspection. Ling told his mother that he wasn't going to take an empty pot. But she encouraged him to go, and to take his pot, and to be honest about what happened. Ling felt sick to his stomach, but he knew his mother was right. He took his empty pot to the palace.
When Ling arrived, he was amazed at the variety of plants grown by all the other youths. They were beautiful, in all shapes and sizes. Ling put his empty pot on the floor and many of the other kinds laughed at him. A few felt sorry for him and just said, 'Hey nice try.'
When the emperor arrived, he surveyed the room and greeted the young people. Ling just tried to hide in the back. 'My, what great plants, trees and flowers you have grown,' said the emperor. 'Today, one of you will be appointed the next emperor!'
All of a sudden, the emperor spotted Ling at the back of the room with his empty pot. He ordered his guards to bring him to the front. Ling was terrified. 'The emperor knows I'm a failure! Maybe he will have me killed!'
When Ling got to the front, the Emperor asked his name. 'My name is Ling,' he replied. All the kids were laughing and making fun of him. The emperor asked everyone to quiet down. He looked at Ling, and then announced to the crowd, 'Behold your new emperor! His name is Ling!' Ling couldn't believe it. Ling couldn't even grow his seed. How could he be the new emperor?
Then the emperor said, 'One year ago today, I gave everyone here a seed. I told you to take the seed, plant it, water it, and bring it back to me today. But I gave you all boiled seeds which would not grow. All of you, except Ling, have brought me trees and plants and flowers. When you found that the seed would not grown, you substituted another seed for the one I gave you. Ling was the only one with the courage and honesty to bring me a pot with my seed in it. Therefore, he is the one who will be the new emperor!' " - Unknown
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"[A true story - with a message about honesty and humility.] - Nothing but the Truth! -
David Casstevens of the Dallas Morning News tells a story about Frank Szymanski, a Notre Dame center in the 1940s, who had been called as a witness in a civil suit at South Bend.
'Are you on the Notre Dame football team this year?' the judge asked.
'Yes, Your Honor.'
'What position?'
'Center, Your Honor.'
'How good a center?'
Szymanski squirmed in his seat, but said firmly: 'Sir, I'm the best center Notre Dame has ever had.'
Coach Frank Leahy, who was in the courtroom, was surprised. Szymanski always had been modest and unassuming. So when the proceedings were over, he took Szymanski aside and asked why he had made such a statement. Szymanski blushed.
'I hated to do it, Coach,' he said. 'But, after all, I was under oath!'
" - David Casstevens
'Condensed Chicken Soup for the Soul'
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"[A true story - with a message about honesty, morality and playing fairly and within the rules including the most important rule, the Golden Rule of treating others as you would want to be treated in the same circumstances!] - Winners and Winners - As a high school coach, I did all I could to help my boys win their games. I rooted as hard for victory as they did.
A dramatic incident, however, following a game in which I officiated as a referee, changed my perspective on victories and defeats. I was refereeing a league championship basketball game in New Rochelle, New York, between New Rochelle and Yonkers High.
New Rochelle was coached by Dan O'Brien, Yonkers by Les Beck. The gym was crowded to capacity, and the volume of noise made it impossible to hear. The game was well played and closely contested. Yonkers was leading by one point as I glanced at the clock and discovered there were but 30 seconds left to play.
Yonkers, in possession of the ball, passed off - shot - missed. New Rochelle recovered - pushed the ball up court - shot. The ball rolled tantalizingly around the rim and off. The fans shrieked.
New Rochelle, the home team, recovered the ball, and tapped it in for what looked like victory. The tumult was deafening. I glanced at the clock and saw that the game was over. I hadn't heard the final buzzer because of the noise. I checked with the other official, but he could not help me.
Still seeking help in this bedlam, I approached the timekeeper, a young man of 17 or so. He said, 'Mr. Covino, the buzzer went off as the ball rolled off the rim, before the final tap-in was made.'
I was in the unenviable position of having to tell Coach O'Brien the sad news. 'Dan,' I said, 'time ran out before the final basket was tapped in. Yonkers won the game.'
His face clouded over. The young timekeeper came up. He said, 'I'm sorry, Dad. The time ran out before the final basket.'
Suddenly, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, Coach O'Brien's face lit up. He said, 'That's okay, Joe. You did what you had to do. I'm proud of you.'
Turning to me, he said, 'Al, I want you to meet my son, Joe.'
The two of them then walked off the court together, the coach's arm around his son's shoulder." - Al Covino
'A 4th Course of Chicken Soup for the Soul'
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"[A true story - with a message about how important appreciating others and giving them praise can be to others and their self-esteem.] - All the Good Things - He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minnesota [USA]. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischievousness delightful.
Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving - ‘Thank you for correcting me, Sister!’ I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day.
One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice-teacher's mistake. I looked at him and said, ‘If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!’
It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, ‘Mark is talking again.’ I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it.
I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room. As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing he winked at me. That did it! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, ‘Thank you for correcting me, Sister.’
At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior-high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions in the ‘new math,’ he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he had in the third.
One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves - and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down. It took the remainder of he class period to finish the assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Mark's said, ‘Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend.’
That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. ‘Really?’ I heard whispered. ‘I never knew that meant anything to anyone!’ ‘I didn't know others liked me so much!’ No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again.
That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip - the weather, my experiences in general. There was a light lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a side-ways glance and simply says, ‘Dad?’ My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. ‘The Eklunds called last night,’ he began. ‘Really?’ I said. ‘I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is.’
Dad responded quietly. ‘Mark was killed in Vietnam,’ he said. ‘The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend.’ To this day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark.
I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me. The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic.’ Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.
I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who had acted as pallbearer came up to me. ‘Were you Mark's math teacher?’ he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. ‘Mark talked about you a lot,’ he said.
After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chucks farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. ‘We want to show you something,’ his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. ‘They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it.’
Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. ‘Thank you so much for doing that’ Mark's mother said. ‘As you can see, Mark treasured it.’
Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, ‘I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home.’ Chuck's wife said, ‘Chuck asked me to put this in our wedding album.’ ‘I have mine too,’ Marilyn said. ‘It's in my diary.’ Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. ‘I carry this with me at all times,’ Vicki said without batting an eyelash. ‘I think we all saved our lists!’
That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again." - Sister Helen P. Mrosia
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"[A true story - with a message about helping others and following the Golden Rule of treating others as you'd like to be treated in the same circumstances:] - The Boy Under the Tree - In the summer recess between freshman and sophomore years in college, I was invited to be an instructor at a high school leadership camp hosted by a college in Michigan. I was already highly involved in most campus activities, and I jumped at the opportunity.
About an hour into the first day of camp, amid the frenzy of icebreakers and forced interactions, I first noticed the boy under the tree. He was small and skinny, and his obvious discomfort and shyness made him appear frail and fragile. Only 50 feet away, 200 eager campers were bumping bodies, playing, joking and meeting each other, but the boy under the tree seemed to want to be anywhere other than where he was. The desperate loneliness he radiated almost stopped me from approaching him, but I remembered the instructions from the senior staff to stay alert for campers who might feel left out.
As I walked toward him I said, ‘Hi, my name is Kevin and I'm one of the counselors. It's nice to meet you. How are you?’ In a shaky, sheepish voice he reluctantly answered, ‘Okay, I guess’ I calmly asked him if he wanted to join the activities and meet some new people. He quietly replied, ‘No, this is not really my thing.’
I could sense that he was in a new world, that this whole experience was foreign to him. But I somehow knew it wouldn't be right to push him, either. He didn't need a pep talk, he needed a friend. After several silent moments, my first interaction with the boy under the tree was over. At lunch the next day, I found myself leading camp songs at the top of my lungs for 200 of my new friends. The campers eagerly participated. My gaze wandered over the mass of noise and movement and was caught by the image of the boy from under the tree, sitting alone, staring out the window. I nearly forgot the words to the song I was supposed to be leading. At my first opportunity, I tried again, with the same questions as before: ‘How are you doing? Are you okay?’ To which he again replied, ‘Yeah, I'm alright. I just don't really get into this stuff.’ As I left the cafeteria, I realized this was going to take more time and effort than I had thought -- if it was even possible to get through to him at all.
That evening at our nightly staff meeting, I made my concerns about him known. I explained to my fellow staff members my impression of him and asked them to pay special attention and spend time with him when they could. The days I spent at that camp flew by faster than any others I have known. Thus, before I knew it, mid-week had dissolved into the final night of camp and I was chaperoning the ‘last dance.’ The students were doing all they could to savor every last moment with their new ‘best friends’ -- friends they would probably never see again.
As I watched the campers share their parting moments, I suddenly saw what would be one of the most vivid memories of my life. The boy from under the tree, who stared blankly out the kitchen window, was now a shirtless dancing wonder. He owned the dance floor as he and two girls proceeded to cut up a rug. I watched as he shared meaningful, intimate time with people at whom he couldn't even look just days earlier. I couldn't believe it was him. In October of my sophomore year, a late-night phone call pulled me away from my chemistry book. A soft-spoken, unfamiliar voice asked politely, ‘Is Kevin there?’
‘You're talking to him. Who's this?’
‘This is Tom Johnson's mom. Do you remember Tommy from leadership camp?'
The boy under the tree. How could I not remember? ‘Yes, I do,’ I said. ‘He's a very nice young man. How is he?’
An abnormally long pause followed, then Mrs. Johnson said, ‘My Tommy was walking home from school this week when he was hit by a car and killed.’ Shocked, I offered my condolences.
‘I just wanted to call you,’ she said, ‘because Tommy mentioned you so many times. I wanted you to know that he went back to school this fall with confidence. He made new friends. His grades went up. And he even went out on a few dates. I just wanted to thank you for making a difference for Tom. The last few months were the best few months of his life.’
In that instant, I realized how easy it is to give a bit of yourself every day. You may never know how much each gesture may mean to someone else. I tell this story as often as I can, and when I do, I urge others to look out for their own ‘boy under the tree.’" - David Coleman and Kevin Randall
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"[Song Lyrics: 'There Is Sunshine In A Smile']
For each time you smile, you will find that it's true,
Somebody, somewhere will smile back at you.
" - Karen West
This is a lyric from her song, 'There Is Sunshine In A Smile'.
(The 'author' ascribed to this 'quote' is the artist that released this version of the song. It is not necessarily the only artist to release the song nor is it necessarily the only version of the song available. The artist is not necessarily the song's writer, as in the person or persons who wrote the lyrics and music. The above lyrics are obviously the property and copyright of their legal owners. They are provided for educational purposes and personal use only.)
[Refer http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/k/karen_west/there_is_sunshine_in_a_smile.html ]
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"[A story - with a message about learning to focus on the positives - that can praise and be grateful for - rather than on the negatives in life and other's behaviour!!] - A Clever Dog - A butcher watching over his shop is really surprised when he saw a dog coming inside the shop. He shoos him away. But later, the dog is back again.
So, he goes over to the dog and notices he has a note in his mouth. He takes the note and it reads 'Can I have 12 sausages and a leg of lamb, please. The dog has money in his mouth, as well.'
The butcher looks inside and, lo and behold, there is a ten dollar Note there. So he takes the money and puts the sausages and lamb in a bag, placing it in the dog's mouth. The butcher is so impressed, and since it's about closing time, he decides to shut up shop and follow the dog.
So off he goes. The dog is walking down the street when he comes To a level crossing.
The dog puts down the bag, jumps up and presses the button. Then he waits patiently, bag in mouth, for the lights to turn. They do, and he walks across the road, with the butcher following him all the way.
The dog then comes to a bus stop, and starts looking at the timetable.
The butcher is in awe at this stage. The dog checks out the times, and then sits on one of the seats provided. Along comes a bus. The dog walks around to the front, looks at the number, and goes back to his seat.
Another bus comes. Again the dog goes and looks at the number, notices it's the right bus, and climbs on. The butcher, by now, open-mouthed, follows him onto the bus.
The bus travels through the town and out into the suburbs, the dog Looking at the scenery. Eventually he gets up, and moves to the front of the bus. He stands on 2 back paws and pushes the button to stop the bus. Then he gets off, his groceries still in his mouth.
Well, dog and butcher are walking along the road, and then the dog turns into a house. He walks up the path, and drops the groceries on the step.
Then he walks back down the path, takes a big run, and throws himself against the door. He goes back down the path, runs up to the door and again, it throws himself against it. There's no answer at the house, so the dog goes back down the path, jumps up on a narrow wall, and walks along the perimeter of the garden. He gets to the window, and beats his head against it several times, walks back, jumps off, and waits at the door.
The butcher watches as a big guy opens the door, and starts abusing the dog, kicking him and punching him, and swearing at him.
The butcher runs up, and stops the guy. 'What in heaven's name are You doing? The dog is a genius. He could be on TV, for the life of me!' to which the guy responds: 'You call this clever? This is the second time this week that this stupid dog's forgotten his key.' " - Unknown
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| [Quote No.52169] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[Poem: If Tomorrow Never Comes]
If I knew it would be the last time that I'd see you fall asleep,
I would tuck you in more tightly and pray the Lord, your soul to keep.
If I knew it would be the last time that I see you walk out the door,
I would give you a hug and kiss and call you back for one more.
If I knew it would be the last time I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise,
I would video tape each action and word, so I could play them back day after day.
If I knew it would be the last time, I could spare an extra minute or two,
To stop and say 'I love you' instead of assuming, you would know I do.
If I knew it would be the last time I would be there to share your day,
Well I'm sure you'll have so many more, so I can let just this one slip away.
For surely there's always tomorrow to make up for an oversight,
And we always get a second chance to make everything right.
There will always be another day to say our 'I love you's',
And certainly there's another chance to say our 'Anything I can do's?'
But just in case I might be wrong, and today is all I get,
I'd like to say how much I love you and I hope we never forget.
Tomorrow is not promised to anyone, young or old alike,
And today may be the last chance you get to hold your loved one tight.
So if you're waiting for tomorrow, why not do it today?
For if tomorrow never comes, you'll surely regret the day,
that you didn't take that extra time for a smile, a hug, or a kiss,
And you were too busy to grant someone, what turned out to be their one last wish.
So hold your loved ones close today, whisper in their ear,
Tell them how much you love them and that you'll always hold them dear.
Take time to say 'I'm sorry,' 'please forgive me,' 'thank you' or 'it's okay'.
And if tomorrow never comes, you'll have no regrets about today.
" - Unknown
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| [Quote No.52191] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[A true story - with a message about taking every opportunity to tell those we care about how much they mean to us!] - Do It Today! - When I was superintendent of schools in Palo Alto, California, Polly Tyner, the president of our board of trustees, wrote a letter that was printed in the Palo Alto Times. Polly's son, Jim, had great difficulty in school. He was classified as educationally handicapped and required a great deal of patience on the part of his parents and teachers. But Jim was a happy kid with a great smile that lit up the room. His parents acknowledged his academic difficulties, but always tried to help him see his strengths so that he could walk with pride. Shortly after Jim finished high school, he was killed in a motorcycle accident. After his death, his mother submitted this letter to the newspaper.
'Today we buried our 20-year-old son. He was killed instantly in a motorcycle accident on Friday night. How I wish I had known when I talked to him last that it would be the last time. If I had only known I would have said, 'Jim, I love you and I'm so very proud of you.'
I would have taken the time to count the many blessings he brought to the lives of the many who loved him. I would have taken time to appreciate his beautiful smile, the sound of his laughter, his genuine love of people.
When you put all the good attributes on the scale and you try to balance all the irritating traits such as the radio which was always too loud, the haircut that wasn't to our liking, the dirty socks under the bed, etc., the irritations don't amount to much.
I won't get another chance to tell my son all I would have wanted him to hear, but, other parents, you do have a chance. Tell your young people what you would want them to hear if you knew it would be your last conversation. The last time I talked to Jim was the day he died. He called me to say, 'Hi, Mom! I just called to say I love you. Got to go to work. Bye.' He gave me something to treasure forever.
If there is any purpose at all to Jim's death, maybe it is to make others appreciate more of life and to have people, especially families, take the time to let each other know just how much we care.
You may never have another chance. Do it today!' " - Robert Reasoner
'A 2nd Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul'
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| [Quote No.52215] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[A story - with a message about the importance of taking time to listen to and speak with those we care about when they are happy or sad.] - Plants And People - Plants grow best when we pay attention to them. That means watering, touching them, putting them in places where they will receive good light. They need people around them to notice if they are drooping at the edges or looking particularly happy in the sunlight. The more attention a plant receives, the better it will grow.
We need to be noticed in the same way. If we notice a family member or friend is drooping, perhaps we can pay some special attention to him or her. All of us need someone to care about how we are and to truly listen to us. We can share and double someone's happiness by noticing and talking about it also. We help the people around us to grow by listening to their droopy edges as well as their bright days. People need this as much as plants need light and water." - Unknown
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| [Quote No.52218] Need Area: Friends > Conversation
"[Poem: about the power of example and action.]
'Sermons We See'
I'd rather see a sermon,
Than hear one any day;
I'd rather one should walk with me,
Than merely tell the way.
The eye's a better pupil,
And more willing than the ear,
Fine counsel is confusing,
But example's always clear.
And the best of all the preachers,
Are the men who live their creeds,
For to see good put into action,
Is what everybody needs.
When I see a deed of kindness,
I am eager to be kind.
When a weaker brother stumbles,
And a strong man stands behind;
Just to see if he can help him,
Then the wish grows strong in me,
To become as big and thoughtful,
As I know that friend to be.
And all travelers can witness that,
The best of guides today,
Is not the one who tells them,
But the one who shows the way!
" - Edgar Albert Guest
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