Share any small but amazing / wondrous story or anecdote that you read someplace else, here on this thread. ...like this one I read today,
The Art of Improvement In his later years Pablo Picasso was not allowed to roam an art gallery unattended, for he had previously been discovered in the act of trying to improve on one of his old masterpieces.
In the National Theatre (London) during rehearsals a bucket of water is placed at the front of the stage and to one side. If anyone's mobile 'phone rings, the owner of the 'phone puts it in the bucket. No exceptions. No arguments.
Sounds like something that should be done during performances as well, Asa. I loved the concept. Here in the wild west of America, we shoot them and that accomplishes the same thing. Your idea sounds a bit more civilized.
Nick
I can trace my lineage back to King Lear's fool, so it is genetic. Nick
In New York City in August, businessman Herbert Black sued socialite Denise Rich (ex-wife of the Clinton-pardoned Marc Rich) for nonpayment of fees he said he earned by saving her nearly a million dollars annually as a personal financial adviser. Included alleged savings were: $125,000 in flowers (by having fewer deliveries to her apartment when she wasn't at home); $30,000 by changing the payment plan for her yoga instructions; and $52,000 in "dog maintenance" (mostly by giving away her two oldest dogs, which were so feeble that they had to be pushed by sitters around Central Park in an $8,000 baby carriage). [New York Times, 8-19-02]
quote:It is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one's dignity, to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent. W. Somerset Maugham (1874 - 1965), 'Of Human Bondage', 1915
"Don't die just because everyone else does." Sartre
Posts: 1072 | Location: Richmond Va USA | Registered: 08-26-02
An eastern newspaper reported that a train in Bangladesh accidentally struck a calf elephant. The mother elephant apparently became upset over the incident, for a little while later another train came along and spotted the female standing in the middle of the track. Though the engineer blasted his horn, she would not budge. When the train came to a halt, she began butting it with her head! For fifteen minutes she hammered the engine, rendering it inoperable. Once satisfied, she walked off into the jungle, stranding two hundred passengers for five hours while they waited for a replacement engine!
Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world, a mother's love is not. -- James Joyce (1882-1941), Irish author, from, Cranly, in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, ch. 5 (1916).
Mahatma Gandhi: Gandhi once gave a lecture to a select gathering of maharajahs, exhorting them to give up their money and possessions and embrace a life of poverty and simplicity. One by one his distinguished audience slid out until there was nobody left except (as Gandhi afterward said) "God, the chairman, and myself." After another few minutes the chairman himself melted away. "Poor fellow," observed Gandhi, "he must have been very uncomfortable in that strange company."
Ernest Hemingway: Hemingway's son Patrick asked his father to edit a story he had written. Hemingway went through the manuscript carefully, then returned it to his son. "But, Papa," cried Patrick in dismay, "you've only changed one word." "If it's the right word," said Hemingway, "that's a lot."
George Washington: Early in the Revolutionary War, Washington sent one of his officers to requisition horses from the local landowners. Calling at an old country mansion the officer was received by the elderly mistress of the house. "Madam, I have come to claim your horses in the name of the government," he began. "On whose orders?" demanded the woman sternly. "On the orders of General George Washington, commander in chief of the American army," replied the officer. The old lady smiled. "You go back and tell General George Washington that his mother says he cannot have her horses," she said.
Charlie Chaplin: Charlie Chaplin entered a Charlie Chaplin look-alike competition in Monte Carlo. He came in third.
--If you liked these, I'll be back with more! --
--------Sanya--------
Do what you think and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.-Richard Bach
Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through, Not one returns to tell us of the Road, Which to discover we must travel too. - Omar Khayyam -Peace-
Posts: 2558 | Location: Middle of Nowhere | Registered: 04-12-02
--Oh! I'm sorry but this was just too good to miss .. Thought I'd share this with you!--
Mark Twain: Mark Twain loved to brag about his hunting and fishing exploits. He once spent three weeks fishing in the Maine woods, regardless of the fact that it was the state's closed season for fishing. Relaxing in the lounge car of the train on his return journey to New York, his catch iced down in the baggage car, he looked for someone to whom he could relate the story of his successful holiday.
The stranger to whom he began to boast of his sizable catch appeared at first unresponsive, then positively grim. "By the way, who are you, sir?" inquired Twain airily. "I'm the state game warden," was the unwelcome response. "Who are you?" Twain nearly swallowed his cigar. "Well, to be perfectly truthful, warden," he said hastily, "I'm the biggest damn liar in the whole United States."
--------Sanya--------
Do what you think and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.-Richard Bach
Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through, Not one returns to tell us of the Road, Which to discover we must travel too. - Omar Khayyam -Peace-
Posts: 2558 | Location: Middle of Nowhere | Registered: 04-12-02
One morning in 1888, Alfred Nobel, inventor of dynamite, the man who had spent his life amassing a fortune from the manufacture and sale of weapons of destruction, awoke to read his own obituary. Of course, it was a mistake. Alfred's brother had died, and the reporter inadvertently wrote Alfred's obituary.
For the first time, Alfred Nobel saw himself as the world saw him -- "the dynamite King," the great industrialist who had made an immense fortune from explosives. This, as far as the general public was concerned, was the entire purpose of his life. None of his true intentions surfaced. Nothing was said about his work to break down the barriers that separated persons and ideas. He was quite simply a merchant of death, and for that alone would he be remembered.
Alfred read the obituary with horror. He felt that the world must know the true meaning and purpose of his life! He resolved to do this through his last will and testament. The final disposition of his fortune would show the world his life's ideals. And at that time came into being yearly prizes for chemistry, physics, medicine, literature -- and the famous Nobel Peace Prize.
An enchanting story about violinist Fritz Kreisler tells how he once came across a beautiful instrument he wanted to acquire. When he finally raised the money for the violin, he returned to buy it and learned that it had already been sold to a collector.
He went to the new owner's home in order to try to persuade him to sell the violin. But the collector said it was one of his prized possessions and he could not let it go. The disappointed Kreisler turned to leave, but then asked a favor. "May I play the instrument once more before it is consigned to silence?"
Permission was granted and the great musician began to play. The violin sang out a quality of music so beautiful that the collector himself could only listen in wonderment. "I have no right to keep that to myself," he said after the musician finished. "The violin is yours, Mr. Kreisler. Take it into world, and let people hear it. "
"If you believe in prayer, pray; if you believe in serving, serve; if you believe in giving, give. For you and I are exquisite violins -- our music is meant to be heard." -- William Arthur Ward.
This is the true story of a little girl's sacrifice, that led to the building of the Temple Baptist Church in the city of Philadelphia. ENJOY!!!
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A sobbing little girl stood near a small church from which she had been turned away because it was too crowded.
"I can't go to Sunday School," she sobbed to the pastor as he walked by.
Seeing her shabby, unkempt appearance, the pastor guessed the real reason she was not allowed to attend and, taking her by the hand, took her inside and found a place for her in the Sunday School class. The child was so touched that she went to bed that night thinking of all the children who had no place to worship Jesus.
Two years later, this child lay dead in one of the poor tenement buildings. The parents called for the kindhearted pastor who had befriended their daughter, to handle the final funeral arrangements. As her little body was being moved, a worn and crumpled purse was found which seemed to have been rummaged from some trash dump.
Inside the purse was found 57 cents and a note scribbled in childish handwriting which read, "This is to help build the little church bigger so that more children can go to Sunday School."
For two years she had saved for this offering of love.
When the pastor tearfully read that note, he knew instantly what he would do. Carrying the note and the cracked, red pocketbook to the pulpit, he told the story of her unselfish love and devotion. He challenged his deacons to get busy and raise enough money for the larger building.
But the story does not end there! A newspaper learned of the story and published it. It was read by a realtor who offered them a parcel of land worth many thousands. When told that the church could not pay so much, he offered it - for the sum of 57 cents.
Church members made large contributions. Checks came from far and wide. Within five years the little girl's gift had increased to $250,000.00 - a huge sum for that time (near the turn of the 20th century). Her unselfish love had paid large dividends.
When you are in the city of Philadelphia, look up Temple Baptist Church, with a seating capacity of 3,300, and Temple University, where hundreds of students are trained. Have a look, too, at the Good Samaritan Hospital and at a Sunday School building which houses hundreds of Sunday scholars, so that no child in the area will ever need to be left outside during Sunday School time.
In one of the rooms of this building may be seen the picture of the sweet face of the little girl whose 57 cents, so sacrificially saved, made such remarkable history. Alongside of it is a portrait of her kind pastor, Dr. Russell H. Conwell, author of the book. "Acres of Diamonds."
"Bigness comes from doing many small things well. Individually, they are not very dramatic transactions. Together, though, they add up." -- Edward S. Finkelstein
Ananya, Wonderful. Where do you find these? If I ever find that I have the time, I think that I will start at the very beginning (it's a very good place to start) and read every post you have ever written.
Asa, if you're listening, here's another one of my favourite true stories...
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Letting go of success:
There's this story about the famous actor Clark Gable. A friend paid Gable a visit one afternoon at the actor's home. She brought along her small son, who amused himself by playing with toy cars on the floor. He pretended he was racing those cars around a great track, which in reality was an imaginary circle around a golden statuette. The small statue the boy played with was actually the Oscar, Clark Gable won for his performance in the 1934 movie IT HAPPENED ONE NIGHT.
When his mother told him the time had come to leave, the little boy asked the actor, "Can I have this?" pointing to the Oscar.
"Sure," he smiled. "It's yours."
The horrified mother objected. "Put that back immediately!"
Giving the child the golden statue, Clark Gable said, "Having the Oscar around doesn't mean anything to me; earning it does." The actor seemed to know that past success can be a comfortable hammock upon which he may be tempted to rest, rather than a springboard launching him to the next level.
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...The ultimate question in life is: Will your past be a springboard or a restful hammock? After all, the future, not the past, is where the rest of our life will be lived. All we need to do is be willing to let go of our past successes and achievements in order to free the future.
His name was Fleming, and he was a poor Scottish farmer. One day, while trying to eke out a living for his family, he heard a cry for help coming from a nearby bog. He dropped his tools and ran to the bog.
There, mired to his waist in black muck, was a terrified boy, screaming and struggling to free himself. Farmer Fleming saved the lad from what could have been a slow and terrifying death.
The next day, a fancy carriage pulled up to the Scotsman's sparse surroundings. An elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out and introduced himself as the father of the boy Farmer Fleming had saved.
"I want to repay you," said the nobleman. "You saved my son's life."
"No, I can't accept payment for what I did," the Scottish farmer replied, waving off the offer. At that moment, the farmer's own son came to the door of the family hovel. "Is that your son?" the nobleman asked.
"Yes," the farmer replied proudly.
"I'll make you a deal. Let me take him and give him a good education. If the lad is anything like his father, he'll grow to a man you can be proud of."
And that he did. In time, Farmer Fleming's son graduated from St. Mary's Hospital Medical School in London, and went on to become known throughout the world as the noted Sir Alexander Fleming, the discoverer of Penicillin.
Years afterward, the nobleman's son was stricken with pneumonia. What saved him? Penicillin.
The name of the nobleman? Lord Randolph Churchill. His son's name? Sir Winston Churchill.
I joined this site today and have just spent several minutes thoroughly enjoying your string of posts. What a wonderful way to start the day! I am convinced that you are one of those people that do their best to make people smile. Thank you!
May all be well with you always.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ..Jadyn.. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You are, yourself, something magnificent.
The Brooklyn Bridge that spans the river tying Manhattan Island to Brooklyn is truly a miracle bridge. In 1863, a creative engineer named John Augustus Roebling was inspired by an idea for this spectacular bridge. However, bridge-building experts throughout the world told him to forget it; it could not be done.
Roebling convinced his son, Washington, who was a young up and coming engineer, that the bridge could be built. The two of them developed the concepts of how it could be accomplished and how the obstacles could be overcome. With unharnessed excitement and inspiration, they hired their crew and began to build their dream bridge.
The project was only a few months under construction when a tragic accident on the site, during the founding of the New York pier (1872) took the life of John Roebling and severely injured his son, Washington. Washington was left with permanent brain damage and was unable to talk or walk. Everyone felt that the project would have to be scrapped since the Roeblings were the only ones who knew how the bridge could be built.
Even though Washington was unable to move or talk, his mind was as sharp as ever, and he still had a burning desire to complete the bridge. An idea hit him as he lay in his hospital bed, and he developed a code for communication. All he could move was one finger, so he touched the arm of his wife with that finger, tapping out the code to communicate to her what to tell the engineers who were building the bridge. For thirteen years, Washington tapped out his instructions with his finger to his wife Emily Warren Roebling until the spectacular Brooklyn Bridge was finally completed.
In 1939, Japanese diplomat Chiune Sugihara, who was stationed in Lithuania during one of the darkest times in human history, saved thousands of Polish Jews from the Nazis by issuing transit visas to them. Defying his own government he wrote visas day and night, even scribbling them by hand and passing them through a train window as he departed Lithuania.
His bold and extraordinarily act of heroism was largely unknown and unsung in the immediate aftermath of the war. For many years he occupied an obscure footnote in history - until survivors who had been rescued by Sugihara began to emerge from the silence of their post-holocaust shock and started telling his story. Soon his courage and greatness were being celebrated all ove the world, catching the attention of the mass media and inspiring several authors to write books, describing the actions of the "Japanese Schindler."
Meanwhile the Israeli government was gathering names of "courageous rescuers," whose efforts it wished to repay. One of the ways the Jewish State attempted to acknowledge its debt was by giving the rescuers and their families sanctuary and lifelong pensions. Another more symbolic way, was by planting trees in their honour.
When Sugihara's valour came to light, Israeli officials immediately made plans to plant a cherry grove, as was customary, in his memory. But suddenly, in an uncommon move, officials rescinded that order.They decided that in keeping with the breathtaking scope of Sugihara's actions, cherry trees were an inappropriate symbol. They opted instead for a grove of Cedar tress, deciding that cedar was sturdier and had holier connotations, having been used in the First Temple.
It was only after they had planted the trees that the astonished officials learned for the first time that "Sugihara" in Japanese means ............... CEDAR GROVE.
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... I just had to post that story, when I read it today. It was truly amazing. Life's smallest miracles are the biggest. me thinks so.
History records amazing coincidences in the lives of two of America's founders - Thomas Jefferson and John Quincy Adams. You are aware that Jefferson labored for two weeks writing the Declaration of Independence. He showed his drafts to Adams and Benjamin Franklin, who edited it, honed Jefferson's ideas and refined the document. When it was finally finished, he brought it before the Continental Congress for approval. And America remembers her birth date, of course, as July 4, 1776.
Jefferson and Adams spent the next 50 years debating ideas about how this new nation should govern itself and what it should eventually become. Their administrations argued philosophies and legislation. Sometimes the two men were contentious, but later in life they seemed to develop more of an appreciation for each other. Though they lived far apart, they kept up through correspondence.
Surprisingly (and coincidentally), they both died the same day! Adams is said to have uttered, just before he died, "Jefferson still lives." He couldn't have known that Thomas Jefferson was also drawing his last breath.
Do you know what that day was? July 4 – Independence Day. Do you know what year? It was 1926, exactly 50 years from the signing of the Declaration of Independence. And the coincidences don't end there.
Couriers were dispatched with the news of the great men's deaths. From Braintree, the messenger with news about Adams traveled south. Jefferson's messenger came north from Virginia. Do you know where they met? In Philadelphia...under the shadow of the great hall where both men's lives were so dramatically shaped, and where they labored to give birth to a nation.
Coincidence? Perhaps. But historians of the day often attributed these coincidences to providence – as a good omen for a new nation.
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Our lives are full of surprises and amazing coincidences. Someone said, "Coincidence is God's way of remaining anonymous." It's a beautiful way of making sense of the inexplicable. But whether or not you see the hand of providence in coincidence, life teems with the remarkable. Learn to notice what others do not see, and you'll never ceased to be amazed!
Goldfinger's flat hard stare didn't flicker.... He said " Mr. Bond, they have a saying in Chicago: "Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time is enemy action.". -- Goldfinger to James Bond in Ian Fleming's "Goldfinger".(1959)
*~Come play with my children feel the peace and Scatter some joy.~* ~*Blowing out someone else's candle doesn't make your's burn any brighter.*~ *** Who put these fingerprints on my imagination? -- Elvis Costello ***
Posts: 5728 | Location: India | Registered: 07-03-01
Both his dry Yankee wit (born in Plymouth, VT) and his frugality with words became legendary. His wife, Grace Goodhue Coolidge, recounted that a young woman sitting next to Coolidge at a dinner party confided to him she had bet she could get at least three words of conversation from him. Without looking at her he quietly retorted, "You lose."
* * * Friends, books, a cheerful heart, and conscience clear Are the most choice companions we have here.~William Mather
...like this one I read today,
.. Thought I'd share this with you!--
