Every small, positive change we make in ourselves repays us in confidence in the future.
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There's small choice in rotten apples.
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Fortunately art is a community effort—a small but select community living in a spiritualized world endeavoring to interpret the wars and the...
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How the old mountains drip with sunset, And the brake of dun! How the hemlocks are tipped in tinsel By the wizard sun! How the old steeples hand the scarlet, Till the ball is full, -- Have I the lip of the flamingo That I dare to tell? Then, how the fire ebbs like billows, Touching all the grass With a departing, sapphire feature, As if a duchess pass! How a small dusk crawls on the village Till the houses blot; And the odd flambeaux no men carry Glimmer on the spot! Now it is night in nest and kennel, And where was the wood, Just a dome of abyss is nodding Into solitude! -- These are the visions baffled Guido; Titian never told; Domenichino dropped the pencil, Powerless to unfold.
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Well I am certainly wiser than this man. It is only too likely that neither of us has any knowledge to boast of; but he thinks that he knows something which he does not know, whereas I am quite conscious of my ignorance. At any rate it seems that I am wiser than he is to this small extent, that I do not think that I know what I do not know.
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'Against his better judgment, the big game hunter is talked into taking both his wife AND her mother along on one of his expeditions. It does not go well. The mother-in-law is, if anything, harder to get along with in the wilds than she was in the city. And to make matters worse, she won't even abide by the simple camp rules designed to keep the safari safe. One night after dinner, the hunter's wife realizes her mother is missing. Panicked, she rushes to her husband and begs him to institute a search. He sighs, and together they set out. But before they've gone far, they hear throaty growling. Soon they come upon a small clearing in which the mother-in-law stands, backed up against thick, seemingly impenetrable jungle brush, and facing a huge male lion. The wife whispers urgently, 'What are we going to do?' 'Nothing,' responds her husband. 'The lion got himself into this mess, now let him get himself out of it.''
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The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness. We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom. We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often. We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things. We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less. These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete.
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Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun. Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-eight million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea...
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Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people
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Books, books, books had found the secret of a garret-room piled high with cases in my father's name; Piled high, packed large, --where, creeping in and out among the giant fossils of my past, like some small nimble mouse between the ribs of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there at this or that box, pulling through the gap, in heats of terror, haste, victorious joy, the first book first. And how I felt it beat under my pillow, in the morning's dark. An hour before the sun would let me read! My books!
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'Against his better judgment, the big game hunter is talked into taking both his wife AND her mother along on one of his expeditions. It does not go well. The mother-in-law is, if anything, harder to get along with in the wilds than she was in the city. And to make matters worse, she won't even abide by the simple camp rules designed to keep the safari safe. One night after dinner, the hunter's wife realizes her mother is missing. Panicked, she rushes to her husband and begs him to institute a search. He sighs, and together they set out. But before they've gone far, they hear throaty growling. Soon they come upon a small clearing in which the mother-in-law stands, backed up against thick, seemingly impenetrable jungle brush, and facing a huge male lion. The wife whispers urgently, 'What are we going to do?' 'Nothing,' responds her husband. 'The lion got himself into this mess, now let him get himself out of it.''
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When Apollo Mission Astronaut Neil Armstrong first walked on the moon, he not only gave his famous one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind statement but followed it by several remarks, usual com traffic between him, the other astronauts and Mission Control. Just before he re-entered the lander, however, he made the enigmatic remark; 'Good luck Mr. Gorsky.'
Many people at NASA thought it was a casual remark concerning some rival Soviet Cosmonaut. However, upon checking, there was no Mr. Gorsky in either the Russian or American space programs. Over the years many people questioned Armstrong as to what the Good luck Mr. Gorsky statement meant, but Armstrong always just smiled.
Just last year, (on 5 July 1995 in Tampa Bay, FL) while answering questions following a speech, a reporter brought up the 26-year-old question to Armstrong. This time he finally responded. Mr. Gorsky had finally died and so Neil Armstrong felt he could answer the question.
When he was a kid, he was playing baseball with a friend in the backyard. His friend hits a fly ball which landed in the front of his neighbors bedroom windows. His neighbors were Mr. And Mrs. Gorsky.
As he leaned down to pick up the ball, young Armstrong heard Mrs. Gorsky shouting at Mr. Gorsky. 'Oral sex! You want oral sex?! You'll get oral sex when the kid next door walks on the moon!'
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We are not anxious to grab the easiest dollar. The tourist dollar alone, unrestricted, is not worth the devastation of my people. A country where people have lost their soul is no longer worth visiting. We will encourage only small numbers of visitors whose idea of a holiday is not heaven or paradise, but participation in a different experience. We shall try to avoid the fate of some of our Caribbean neighbors who have ridden the tiger of tourism only to wind up being devoured by it. Large super-luxury hotels with imported management, materials, and values bring false prosperity with the negative side effects of soaring land prices that kill agriculture, polluted beaches, traffic jams, high rise construction that ravages hillsides and scalds the eyeballs - the very problems that the visitors want to forget.
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Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies.
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Fishing gives you a sense of where you fit in the sceme of things - Your place in the universe...I, mean, here I am, one small guy with a fishing pole on this vast beach and out there in the blue expanse of ocean are these hundreds of millions of fish...laughing at me.
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To see the earth as we now see it, small and beautiful in that eternal silence where it floats, is to see ourselves as riders on the earth together, brothers on that bright loveliness in the unending night -- brothers who see now they are truly brothers.
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Where, after all, do universal human rights begin? In small places, close to home—so close and so small that they cannot be seen on any map of the world. Yet they are the world of the individual person: The neighbourhood he lives in; the school or college he attends; the factory, farm or office where he works. Such are the places where every man, woman and child seeks equal justice, equal opportunity, equal dignity without discrimination. Unless these rights have meaning there, they have little meaning anywhere. Without concerted citizen action to uphold them close to home, we shall look in vain for progress in the larger world.
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Do not be desirous of having things done quickly. Do not look at small advantages. Desire to have things done quickly prevents their being done thoroughly. Looking at small advantages prevents great affairs from being accomplished.
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Many a small thing has been made large by the right kind of advertising.
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Whatever happened to that old-fashioned Grandpa If he still survives, he must be hiding in the small towns. You sure don't see him very often in the big city. The big-city Grandpa has gone big time. ... He is the life of every party, and out to prove he is just as young as he ever was. A grandchild who makes the mistake of calling him 'Gramps' is lucky if he isn't rewarded by a quick kick in the stomach.
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We had some fans claim that they can get a cheaper rate during the State Fair than during state basketball. (CHSAA) thought the problem had been taken care of; then I went to an outreach meeting with some of the small outlying schools and they asked about it again.
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He prayeth best who loveth best All things both great and small For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all.
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Every Universe exists depending on the Knowledge that reflects it and not in its absence. It is absolutely true that our ancestors saw this universe before and after we were born and this is why we think that the Universe exists irrespective of our existence. It is an illusion as big as the Illusion of our Life with our entire universe, because our ancestors too saw the world through these senses that we have too, they were human being too, a part of the human race. For the members of a tribe, for instance, their Universe expands up to the borders on their Knowledge of this world. If these borders are very small, the world will be very small and the other way around. Our Universe will look completely different to an animal, even if we think it sees the same images we do. It is true that we are aware, in the Illusion of our Life that the animal sees the same images, but he will interpret them differently, depending on his level of competence, which will entail a different image of the Universe. The same happens with human beings, who think based on a Logical Coefficient 2 and cannot conceive a world where the beings think and see an universe based on Logical Coefficient superior to the one of the man. That world and the universe that will include it will be completely different to the one that reflects and includes our world. Then the meaning of the man�s existence in this world which is for us vanity of the vanities, for a different thinking belonging to a different Logical Coefficient, can be something different.
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The future of humanity is uncertain, even in the most prosperous countries, and the quality of life deteriorates; and yet I believe that what is being discovered about the infinitely large and infinitely small is sufficient to absolve this end of the century and millennium. What a very few are acquiring in knowledge of the physical world will perhaps cause this period not to be judged as a pure return of barbarism.
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The only tyrant I accept in this world is the 'still small voice' within me.
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I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.
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For us there is only one season, the season of sorrow. The very sun and moon seem taken from us. Outside, the day may be blue and gold, but the light that creeps down through the thickly-muffled glass of the small iron-barred window beneath which one sits is grey and niggard. It is always twilight in one's cell, as it is always twilight in one's heart. And in the sphere of thought, no less than in the sphere of time, motion is no more.
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Went drearily singing the chore-girl small, Draping each hive with a shred of black.
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In the small circle of pain within the skull You still shall tramp and tread one endless round Of thought, to justify your action to yourselves, Weaving a fiction which unravels as you weave, Pacing forever in the hell of make-believe Which never is belief: this is your fate on earth And we must think no further of you.
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When I think of this life I have led; the desolation of solitude it has been; the masoned, walled-town of a Captain's exclusiveness, which admits but small entrance to any sympathy from the green country without -- oh, weariness! heaviness! Guinea-coast slavery of solitary command!
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