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-   -   quotation debate, part II (http://www.zefrank.com/bulletin_new/showthread.php?t=13246)

zero 07-15-2008 02:39 PM

THE MooN: shootin' star. look at you. shootin' star. you're a beautiful ball of light. shootin' star. get out the way! i can’t see nothing, you’re all in my peripherins.. you’re in my peripherins visual.
i cannat... how can i concentrate, you’re all over like a blue bottle getting in all about it the place.... flipping idiot..

12"razormix 07-15-2008 02:57 PM


neil armstrong

zero 07-15-2008 03:18 PM

a when the spaceman come he did experimentins with a hammer and a feather, to see a which one would land first and do you know that on the moon surface they land at exactly the same time. He could of done that with anything; beach ball, peg, magnet, little drawing of some chicken, it dunt make no difference when you are the moon. everything lands the same.

- the moon

12"razormix 07-15-2008 03:37 PM

from birth, man carries the weight of gravity on his shoulders. he is bolted to earth. but man has only to sink beneath the surface and he is free.

jacques cousteau

zero 07-15-2008 04:07 PM

and tom?

ah, now comes the most wonderful part of this wonderful story. tom, when he woke, for of course he woke—children always wake after they have slept exactly as long as is good for them—found himself swimming about in the stream, being about four inches, or— that i may be accurate—3.87902 inches long and having round the parotid region of his fauces a set of external gills (i hope you understand all the big words) just like those of a sucking eft, which he mistook for a lace frill, till he pulled at them, found he hurt himself, and made up his mind that they were part of himself, and best left alone.

in fact, the fairies had turned him into a water-baby.

- charles kingsley

MoJoRiSin 07-17-2008 03:42 AM

“You can always learn something new. Sometimes it is about manipulating light. Other times it is about finding another angle into the human soul. That’s what keeps this work so interesting. Until I find something I like better, I’ll probably do this work forever.”
~Sven Nykvist

YsaPur EsChomuw 07-17-2008 04:59 AM

A life without love in it is like a heap of ashes upon a deserted hearth, with the fire dead, the laughter stilled and the light extinguished.

Frank Tebbets

Hyakujo's Fox 07-17-2008 05:10 AM

This gun's for hire, even if we're just dancing in the dark.

~ Bruce Springsteen

Anna 07-18-2008 07:17 AM

because my love for you would break my heart in two -db

12"razormix 07-18-2008 06:02 PM

love does not cause suffering, what causes it is the sense of ownership, which is love's opposite.

antoine de saint-exupéry

YsaPur EsChomuw 07-18-2008 11:22 PM

We often fancy that we suffer from ingratitude, while in reality we suffer from self-love.

Walter Savage Landor

MoJoRiSin 07-18-2008 11:34 PM

Grace and Kundalini
by OH

"This thread on Grace and Kundalini reminds me of the last darshan of Muktananda before he left the United States for India (where he passed away. )

The meditation hall was jammed with over 500 people with a huge overflow watching by remote in the dining area. There had been various offerings of poems and Hindi songs by Baba's swamis, and then Baba came out to give a talk about Shakti and Her "Grace." When he was finished, a swami came up to the microphone and told us that a devotee of Baba's was going to sing for him. And she just wanted to be called, Roberta.

So, Roberta Flack came up on the little stage pushing a keyboard followed by a drummer and guitarist. She sang Killing Me Softly directly to Baba, he put a white scarf around her neck, and she then sang, The First Time Ever I saw Your Face. It was like being in the Twilight Zone - you sorta couldn't believe what you were seeing (Roberta Flack was big recording star back then.)

And then she had us all clap our hands as she played and sang an old time spiritual. It was funny because Baba started shouting something out, and his interpreter, Malti, said, "Baba says, this is not a night club!" That didn't stop us for a minute. We were having a Shakti ball.

Then, Roberta quieted us down and said she was going to sing a song that we could all sing with her, to Muktananda, to Nityananda, to the Divine Feminine who had blessed us all. And she played and sang, Amazing Grace, and we all joined her - 500 strong and the whole dining hall, too. i bet there was not a dry eye in the house.

When we got to the line, "I was blind, but now I see,," Malti (now Swami Chidvilasananda who succeeded Muktananda), whispered in Baba's ear what the words meant, and he nodded and muttered happily, "Ah, yes, good, good."

The hall was filled with so many devotees who had sung so often the Hindu songs, sometimes haltingly, trying to understand, to get with it, but now, here was a song we had all grown up with, that we really "knew", and everyone put their heart and soul into it (well, heart and soul that's another song, Roberta didn't play that one.,^)).

Anyway, it was a time to remember. So, thanks for bringing back the memory. Yes, old woman here, has always considered Grace and Kundalini one and the same. Amazing!"

YsaPur EsChomuw 07-18-2008 11:45 PM

Once a month (except during the monsoons), a parcel would arrive for Chacko by VPP. It always contained a balsa aeromodelling kit. It usually took Chaco between eight and ten days to assemble the aircraft with its tiny fuel tank and motorised propellor. When it was ready, he would take Estha and Rahel to the rice-fields in Nattakom to help him fly it. It never flew for more than a minute. Month after month, Chacko’s carefully constructed planes crashed in the slushgreen paddy fields into which Estha and Rahel would spurt, like trained retrievers, to salvage the remains.
A tail, a tank, a wing.
A wounded machine.

Arundhati Roy: The God of Small Things

MoJoRiSin 07-19-2008 12:11 AM

The coming of aircraft inspired experimentation, in those days, every flight was a test flight--whether the aviator was a careful scientist or a moonlighting longshoreman, the result was usually the same,
a crash landing.

~source not found
transcribed from this video=>


YsaPur EsChomuw 07-19-2008 01:08 AM

We don’t forget, thought Mma Ramotswe. Our heads may be small, but they are as full of memories as the sky may sometimes be of swarming bees, thousands and thousands of memories, of smells, of places, of little things that happened to us and which come back, unexpectedly, to remind us who we are. And who am I? I am Precious Ramotswe, citizen of Botswana, daughter of Obed Ramotswe who died because he had been a miner and could no longer breathe. His life was unrecorded; who is there to write down the lives of ordinary people?

Alexander McCall Smith: The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency

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