<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305</id><updated>2012-01-23T23:11:36.588+05:30</updated><title type='text'>TheWorldzNotEnough</title><subtitle type='html'>Be who you are....say what you feel....because the people who mind don`t matter and the people who matter don`t mind..!!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-115757747730037443</id><published>2006-09-07T02:45:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-09-07T02:49:28.510+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;A well-known speaker started off his seminar by holding up a $500/-note in the room of 200,&lt;br /&gt;He asked, " Who would like this 500 note?"&lt;br /&gt;Hands Started going up.&lt;br /&gt;He said, " I am going to give this note to one of you But first let me do this."&lt;br /&gt;He proceeded to crumple the note up. He then asked, " Who still wants it?" Still the hands were up in theair.&lt;br /&gt;"Well," he replied, " What if I do this?" And he dropped it on theground And started to grind it into the floor with his shoe. He picked it up,Now all crumpled and dirty.&lt;br /&gt;" Now who still wants it?" Still the handswent into the air. " My friends, you have all learned a very valuableLesson.&lt;br /&gt;No matter what I did to the money, you still wanted it becauseit did not decrease in value. It was still worth $ 500/-.&lt;br /&gt;Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and ground into thedirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way.&lt;br /&gt;We feel as though we are worthless. But no matter what has happened or what will Happen, You will never lose your value. You are special don't ever forget it! Never let yesterday's disappointments overshadow tomorrow's dreams.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-115757747730037443?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/115757747730037443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=115757747730037443' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/115757747730037443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/115757747730037443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2006/09/well-known-speaker-started-off-his.html' title=''/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-114681967746308533</id><published>2006-05-05T14:30:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-06-19T22:38:45.286+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Speech delivered by Larry Ellison(CEO of ORACLE)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;{Disclaimer - The credibility of this article z questionable..so u suffer the risk of getting inspired and hoaxed both..!!}&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33cc00;"&gt;What follows is a transcript of the speech delivered by Larry Ellison, CEO of ORACLE (2nd Richest Man on the Planet) at the Yale University to the graduating class of 2000&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Graduates of Yale University, I apologize if you have endured this type of prologue before, but I want you to do something for me. Please, take a good look around you. Look at the classmate on your left. Look at the classmate on your right. Now, consider this: five years from now, 10 years from now, even 30 thirty years from now, odds are the person on your left is going to be a loser.&lt;br /&gt;The person on your right, meanwhile, will also be a loser. And you, in the middle? What can you expect? Loser. Loserhood. Loser Cum Laude. "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In fact, as I look out before me today, I don't see a thousand hopes for a bright tomorrow. I don't see a thousand future leaders in a thousand industries. I see a thousand losers. "You're upset. That's understandable. After all, how can I, Lawrence 'Larry' Ellison, college dropout, have the audacity to spout such heresy to the graduating class of one of the nation's most prestigious institutions? I'll tell you why. Because I, Lawrence "Larry" Ellison, second richest man on the&lt;br /&gt;planet, am a college dropout, and you are not. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Because Bill Gates, richest man on the planet -- for now, anyway -- is a college dropout, and you are not. "Because Paul Allen, the third richest man on the planet, dropped out of college, and you did not. "And for good measure, because Michael Dell, No. 9 on the list and moving up fast, is a college dropout, and you, yet again, are not. "Hmm... you're very upset. That's understandable. So let me stroke your egos for a moment by pointing out, quite sincerely, that your diplomas were not&lt;br /&gt;attained in vain. Most of you, I imagine, have spent four to five years here, and in many ways what you've learned and endured will serve you well in the years ahead. You've established good work habits. You've established a network of people that will help you down the road. And you've established what will be lifelong relationships with the word 'therapy.' All that of is good. For in truth, you will need that network. You will need those strong work habits. You will need that therapy. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You will need them because you didn't drop out, and so you will never be among the richest people in the world. Oh sure, you may, perhaps, work your way up to No. 10 or No. 11, like Steve Ballmer. But then, I don't have to tell you who he really works for, do I? And for the record, he dropped out of grad school. Bit of a late bloomer. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Finally, I realize that many of you, and hopefully by now most of you, are wondering, 'Is there anything I can do? Is there any hope for me at all?' Actually, no. It's too late. You've absorbed too much, think you know too much. You're not 19 anymore. You have a built-in cap, and I'm not referring to the mortar boards on your heads. "Hmm... you're really very upset. That's understandable. So perhaps this would be a good time to bring up the silver lining. Not for you, Class of '00. You are a write-off, so I'll let youslink off to your pathetic $200,000-a-year jobs, where your checks will be signed by former classmates who dropped out two years ago. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Instead, I want to give hope to any underclassmen here today. I say to you, and I can't stress this enough: leave. Pack your things and your ideas and don't come back. Drop out. Start up. "For I can tell you that a cap and gown will keep you down just as surely as these security guards dragging me off this stage are keeping me down..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-114681967746308533?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/114681967746308533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=114681967746308533' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/114681967746308533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/114681967746308533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2006/05/speech-delivered-by-larry-ellisonceo.html' title='Speech delivered by Larry Ellison(CEO of ORACLE)'/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-114655269207572022</id><published>2006-05-02T12:18:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-05-02T12:22:24.420+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The President of India DR. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam's Speech in Hyderabad .</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Why is the media here so negative?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Why are we in India so embarrassed to recog nize our own strengths, our achievements?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We are such a great nation. We have so many amazing successstories but we refuse to acknowledge them. Why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We are the first in milk production.We are number one in Remote sensing satellites.We are the second largest producer of wheat.We are the second largest producer of rice.Look at Dr. Sudarshan, he has transferred the tribal village into a self-sustaining, self-driving unit. There are millions of such achievements but our media is only obsessed in the bad news and failures and disasters.I was in Tel Aviv once and I was reading the Israeli newspaper. It was the day after a lot of attacks and bombardments and deaths had taken place. The Hamas had struck. But the front page of the newspaper had the picture of a Jewish gentleman who in five years had transformed his desert into an orchid and a granary. It was this inspiring picture that everyone woke up to. The gory details of killings, bombardments, deaths, were inside in the newspaper, buried amongother news.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;In India we only read about death, sickness, terrorism, crime. Why are we so NEGATIVE? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Another question: Why are we, as a nation so obsessed with foreign things? We want foreign T. Vs, we want foreign shirts. We want foreign technology. Why this obsession with everything imported. Do we not realize that self-respect comes with self-reliance? I was in Hyderabad giving this lecture, when a 14 year old girl asked me for my autograph. I asked her what her goal in life is. She replied: I want to live in a developed India . For her, you and I will have to build this developed India . You must proclaim. India is not an under-developed nation; it is a highly developed nation. Do you have 10 minutes? Allow me to come back with a vengeance.&lt;br /&gt;Got 10 minutes for your country? If yes, then read; otherwise, choice is yours.YOU say that our government is inefficient.YOU say that our laws are too old.YOU say that the municipality does not pick up the garbage.YOU say that the phones don't work, the railways are a joke,The airline is the worst in the world, mails never reach their destination.YOU say that our country has been fed to the dogs and is the absolute pits.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;YOU say, say and say. What do YOU do about it?Take a person on his way to Singapore . Give him a name - YOURS. Give him a face - YOURS. YOU walk out of the airport and you are at your Internationalbest. In Singapore you don't throw cigarette butts on the roads or eat in the stores. YOU are as proud of their Underground links as they are. You pay $5 (approx. Rs. 60) to drive through Orchard Road (equivalent of Mahim Causeway or Pedder Road ) between 5 PM and 8 PM. YOU come back to the parking lot to punch your parking ticket if you have over stayed in a restaurant or a shopping mall irrespective of your status identity... In Singapore you don't say anything, DO YOU? YOU wouldn't dare to eat in public during Ramadan, in Dubai . YOU would not dare to go out without your head covered in Jeddah. YOU would not dare to buy an employee of the telephone exchange in London at 10 pounds (Rs.650) a month to, 'see to it that my STD and ISD calls are billed to someone else.'YOU would not dare to speed beyond 55 mph (88 km/h) in Washington and then tell the traffic cop, 'Jaanta hai main kaun hoon (Do you know who I am?). I am so and so's son. Take your two bucks and get lost.' YOU wouldn't chuck an empty coconut shell anywhere other than the garbage pail on the beaches in Australia and New Zealand . Why don't YOU spit Paan on the streets of Tokyo ? Why don't YOU use examination jockeys or buy fake certificates in Boston ??? We are still talking of the same YOU. YOU who can respect and conform to a foreign system in other countries but cannot in your own. You who will throw papers and cigarettes on the road the moment you touch Indian ground. If you can be an involved and appreciative citizen in an alien country, why cannot yoube the same here in India ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Once in an interview, the famous Ex-municipal commissioner of Bombay , Mr. Tinaikar, had a point to make. 'Rich people's dogs are walked on the streets to leave their affluent droppings all over the place,' he said. 'And then the same people turn around to criticize and blame the authorities for inefficiency and dirty pavements. What do they expect the officers to do? Go down with a broom every time their dog feels the pressure in his bowels?In America every dog owner has to clean up after his pet has done the job. Same in Japan . Will the Indian citizen do that here?' He's right. We go to the polls to choose a government and after that forfeit all responsibility. We sit back wanting to be pampered and expect the government to do everything for us whilst our contribution is totally negative. We expect the government to clean up but we are not going to stop chucking garbage all over the place nor are we going to stop to pick a up a stray piece of paper and throw it in the bin. We expect the railways to provide clean bathrooms but we are not going to learn the proper use of bathrooms.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We want Indian Airlines and Air India to provide the best of food and toiletries but we are not going to stop pilfering at the least opportunity.This applies even to the staff who is known not to pass on the service to the public. When it comes to burning social issues like those related to women, dowry, girl child! and others, we make loud drawing room protestations and continue to do the reverse at home. Our excuse? 'It's the whole system which has to c change, how will it matter if I alone forego my sons' rights to a dowry.' So who's going to change the system?What does a system consist of ? Very conveniently for us it consists of our neighbours, other households, other cities, other communities and the government. But definitely not me and YOU. When it comes to us actually making a positive contribution to the system we lock ourselves along with our families into a safe cocoon and look into the distance at countries far away and wait for a Mr.Clean to come along &amp;amp; work miracles for us with a majestic sweep of his hand or we leave the country and run away. Like lazy cowards hounded by our fears we run to America to bask in their glory and praise their system. When New York becomes insecure we run to England . When England experiences unemployment, we take the next flight out to the Gulf. When the Gulf is war struck, we demand to be rescued and brought home by the Indian government. Everybody is out to abuse and rape the country. Nobody thinks of feeding the system. Our conscience is mortgaged to money.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Dear Indians, The article is highly thought inductive, calls for a great deal of introspection and pricks one's conscience too.... I am echoing J. F. Kennedy's words to his fellow Americans to relate to Indians.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;'ASK WHAT WE CAN DO FOR INDIAAND DO WHAT HAS TO BE DONE TO MAKE INDIAWHAT AMERICA AND OTHER WESTERN COUNTRIES ARE TODAY'&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Lets do what India needs from us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ffcc33;"&gt;Thank you,&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Abdul Kalaam(PRESIDENT OF INDIA )&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-114655269207572022?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/114655269207572022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=114655269207572022' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/114655269207572022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/114655269207572022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2006/05/president-of-india-dr-p-j-abdul-kalams.html' title='The President of India DR. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam&apos;s Speech in Hyderabad .'/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-113716416302172891</id><published>2006-01-13T20:26:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-04-19T21:57:28.163+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Lessons that life teaches</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#999999;"&gt;" Lessons that life teaches"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1 - First Important Lesson - Cleaning Lady.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;During my second month of college, our professor gave us a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions until I read the last one:&lt;br /&gt;"What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?"&lt;br /&gt;Surely this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s, but how would I know her name?&lt;br /&gt;I handed in my paper, leaving the last question blank. Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward our quiz grade.&lt;br /&gt;"Absolutely," said the professor. "In your careers, you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say "hello."&lt;br /&gt;I've never forgotten that lesson. I also learned her name was Dorothy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;2. - Second Important Lesson - Pickup in the Rain &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;One night, at 11:30 p.m., an older African American woman was standing on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rainstorm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride. Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car. A young white man stopped to help her, generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 1960s. The MN took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxicab.&lt;br /&gt;She seemed to be in a big hurry, but wrote down his address and thanked him. Seven days went by and a knock came on the man's door. To his surprise, a giant console color TV was delivered to his home. A special note was attached.. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;It read: "Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes, but also my spirits. Then you came along. Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband's bedside just before he passed away... God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Nat King Cole.&lt;br /&gt;(And u know who was Nat King Cole one of the all time greatest African American singers of his time)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;3 - Third Important Lesson - Always remember those who serve. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;"How much is an ice cream sundae?" he asked. "Fifty cents," replied the waitress. The little boy pulled is hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;"Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?" he inquired. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;By now more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;"Thirty-five cents," she brusquely replied &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;The little boy again counted his coins. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;"I'll have the plain ice cream," he said. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left. When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies.. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;You see, he couldn't have the sundae, because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;4 - Fourth Important Lesson. - The obstacle in Our Path.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;In ancient times, a King had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed the King for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the stone out of the way.&lt;br /&gt;Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. Upon approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. After the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the King indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the roadway. The peasant learned what many of us never understand!&lt;br /&gt;Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve our condition.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;5 - Fifth Important Lesson - Giving When it Counts... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc33;"&gt;Many years ago, when I worked as a volunteer at a hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liz who was suffering from a rare and serious disease. Her only chance of recovery appeared to be a blood transfusion from her 5-year old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness. The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the little boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister.&lt;br /&gt;I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, "Yes I'll do it, if it will save her." As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheeks. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded.&lt;br /&gt;He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, "Will I start to die right away?"&lt;br /&gt;Being young, the little boy had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood in order to save her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;"Work like you don't need the money, Love like you've never been hurt, dance like you do when nobody's watching ,Live like their is heaven on earth "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-113716416302172891?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/113716416302172891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=113716416302172891' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/113716416302172891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/113716416302172891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2006/01/lessons-that-life-teaches.html' title='Lessons that life teaches'/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-113645977522957031</id><published>2006-01-05T16:46:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-01-05T16:46:15.263+05:30</updated><title type='text'>* 8 Monkeys *</title><content type='html'>&lt;!-- Converted from text/rtf format --&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;SPAN LANG="en-us"&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Arial"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; &lt;/P&gt; &lt;BR&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;SPAN LANG="en-us"&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#00FF00" SIZE=2 FACE="Arial"&gt;*8 Monkeys*&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;SPAN LANG="en-us"&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#00FF00" SIZE=2 FACE="Arial"&gt;(This is based on an actual experiment conducted in U.K.) &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;SPAN LANG="en-us"&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#00FF00" SIZE=2 FACE="Arial"&gt;Put eight monkeys in a room. In the middle of the room is a ladder, leading to a bunch of bananas hanging from a hook on the ceiling.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;SPAN LANG="en-us"&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#00FF00" SIZE=2 FACE="Arial"&gt;Each time a monkey tries to climb the ladder, all the monkeys are sprayed with ice water, which makes them miserable.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; &lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;SPAN LANG="en-us"&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#00FF00" SIZE=2 FACE="Arial"&gt;Soon enough, whenever a monkey attempts to climb the ladder, all of the other monkeys, not wanting to be sprayed, set upon him and beat him up.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;SPAN LANG="en-us"&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#00FF00" SIZE=2 FACE="Arial"&gt;Soon, none of the eight monkeys ever attempts to climb the ladder.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;SPAN LANG="en-us"&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#00FF00" SIZE=2 FACE="Arial"&gt;One of the original monkeys is then removed, and a new monkey is put in the room. Seeing the bananas and the ladder, he wonders why none of the other monkeys are doing the obvious. But undaunted, he immediately begins to climb the ladder. All the other monkeys fall upon him and beat him silly. He has no idea why.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;SPAN LANG="en-us"&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#00FF00" SIZE=2 FACE="Arial"&gt;However, he no longer attempts to climb the ladder. A second original monkey is removed and replaced. The newcomer again attempts to climb the ladder, but all the other monkeys hammer the crap out of him.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;SPAN LANG="en-us"&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#00FF00" SIZE=2 FACE="Arial"&gt;This includes the previous new monkey, who, grateful that he's not on the receiving end this time, participates in the beating because all the other monkeys are doing it. However, he has no idea why he's attacking the new monkey.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;SPAN LANG="en-us"&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#00FF00" SIZE=2 FACE="Arial"&gt;One by one, all the original monkeys are replaced.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; &lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;SPAN LANG="en-us"&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#00FF00" SIZE=2 FACE="Arial"&gt;Eight new monkeys are now in the room. None of them have ever been sprayed by ice water. None of them attempt to climb the ladder. All of them will enthusiastically beat up any new monkey who tries, without having any idea why.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;SPAN LANG="en-us"&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#00FF00" SIZE=2 FACE="Arial"&gt;This is how any Company's Policies get established!!&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; &lt;/P&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-113645977522957031?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/113645977522957031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=113645977522957031' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/113645977522957031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/113645977522957031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2006/01/8-monkeys.html' title='* 8 Monkeys *'/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-113638996956937896</id><published>2006-01-04T21:22:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-01-04T21:22:49.593+05:30</updated><title type='text'>THE BRICK </title><content type='html'>&lt;DIV&gt;&lt;SPAN style="FONT-SIZE: 10pt; FONT-FAMILY: Arial"&gt;&lt;FONT color=#ff007f&gt;&lt;SPAN  style="COLOR: #ff007f"&gt;&lt;SPAN class=209355215-04012006&gt;&lt;FONT  color=#0000ff&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/DIV&gt; &lt;DIV&gt;&lt;SPAN style="FONT-SIZE: 10pt; FONT-FAMILY: Arial"&gt;&lt;FONT color=#ff007f&gt;&lt;SPAN  style="COLOR: #ff007f"&gt;&lt;SPAN class=209355215-04012006&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;BR&gt;A young  and successful executive was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit  too fast in his new Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out from between  parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something. As his car passed,  no children appeared. &lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT face=Arial color=#ff007f  size=2&gt;&lt;SPAN  style="FONT-SIZE: 10pt; COLOR: #ff007f; FONT-FAMILY: Arial"&gt;Instead, a brick  smashed into the Jag's side door! He slammed on the brakes and backed the Jag  back to the spot where the brick had been thrown. The&lt;BR&gt;angry driver then  jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid and pushed him up against a  parked car shouting, "What was that all about and who are you? Just what the  heck are you doing? That's a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a  lot of money. Why did you do it?" The young boy was &lt;BR&gt;apologetic. "Please,  mister...please, I'm sorry but I didn't know what else to do," He pleaded. "I  threw the brick because no one else would stop..." With&lt;BR&gt;tears dripping down  his face and off his chin, the youth pointed to a spot just around a parked car.  "It's my brother, "he said. "He rolled off the curb &lt;BR&gt;and fell out of his  wheelchair and I can't lift him up." &lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;Now sobbing, the boy asked the  stunned executive, "Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair?  He's hurt and he's too heavy for me." &amp;nbsp;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;Moved beyond words, the  driver tried to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He hurriedly  lifted the handicapped boy back into the wheelchair, then took out a linen  handkerchief and dabbed at the fresh scrapes and cuts. A quick look told him  everything was going to be okay. "Thank you and may God bless you," the grateful  child told the stranger. Too shook up for words, the man simply watched the boy!  push his wheelchair-bound brother down the sidewalk toward their home.  &amp;nbsp;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;It was a long, slow walk back to the Jaguar. The damage was very  noticeable, but the driver never bothered to repair the dented side door. He  kept the dent there to remind him of this message: "Don't go through life so  fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention!" God  whispers in our souls and speaks to our hearts. Sometimes when we don't have  time to listen, He has to throw a brick at us. It's our choice to listen or not.  &lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;B&gt;&lt;FONT face=Arial size=2&gt;&lt;SPAN  style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-SIZE: 10pt; FONT-FAMILY: Arial"&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT  color=#ff007f&gt;&lt;SPAN style="COLOR: #ff007f"&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;God didn't promise days  without pain, laughter without sorrow, sun &lt;BR&gt;Without rain, but He did promise  strength for the day, comfort for the tears,&lt;BR&gt;and light for the way.  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/B&gt;&lt;B&gt;&lt;FONT face=Arial color=#ff007f  size=4&gt;&lt;SPAN  style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-SIZE: 13.5pt; COLOR: #ff007f; FONT-FAMILY: Arial"&gt;&lt;BR&gt;If  God brings you to it, He will bring you through it.&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/B&gt;  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/DIV&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-113638996956937896?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/113638996956937896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=113638996956937896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/113638996956937896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/113638996956937896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2006/01/brick.html' title='THE BRICK '/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-112486988587693894</id><published>2005-08-24T13:21:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-08-24T13:21:26.976+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Funny Incident (Cricket)</title><content type='html'>&lt;!-- Converted from text/rtf format --&gt; &lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;The best one&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; (Incident described in &amp;quot;From the Pavilion End&amp;quot; by&lt;BR&gt; Harold &amp;quot;Dickie&amp;quot; Bird)&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; &amp;quot;Bomber&amp;quot; Wells, a spin bowler and great character,&lt;BR&gt; played for Glocuestershire and Nottinghamshire. He&lt;BR&gt; used to bat at No.11 since one&lt;BR&gt; couldn't bat any lower. Of him, they used to&lt;BR&gt; paraphrase Compton's famous words describing an&lt;BR&gt; equally inept runner; &amp;quot;When he shouts 'YES' for a run,&lt;BR&gt; it is merely the basis for further negotiations!&amp;quot;&lt;BR&gt; Incidentally, Compton was no better.&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; John Warr said, of Compton &amp;quot;He was the only person who&lt;BR&gt; would call you for a run and wish you luck at the same&lt;BR&gt; time.&amp;quot; Anyway, when Wells played for Gloucs, he had an&lt;BR&gt; equally horrendous runner as the No.10. During a&lt;BR&gt; county match, horror of horrors.......both got&lt;BR&gt; injured.&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; *Both* opted for runners when it was their turn to&lt;BR&gt; bat.&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; Bomber played a ball on the off, called for a run,&lt;BR&gt; forgot he had a runner and ran himself. Ditto at the&lt;BR&gt; other end. In the melee, someone decided that a second&lt;BR&gt; run was on. Now we had *all four* running. Due to the&lt;BR&gt; confusion and constant shouts of &amp;quot;YES&amp;quot; &amp;quot;NO&amp;quot;,&lt;BR&gt; eventually, *all* of them ran to the same end.&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; Note - at this point in time, the entire ground is&lt;BR&gt; rolling on the floor laughing their behinds out. One&lt;BR&gt; of the fielders - brave lad - stops laughing for a&lt;BR&gt; minute, picks the ball and throws down the wicket at&lt;BR&gt; the other end. Umpire Alec Skelding looks very&lt;BR&gt; seriously at the four and calmly informs them &amp;quot;One of&lt;BR&gt; &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="CourierNew"&gt;you buggers is out. I don't know which. *You* decide&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;and inform the bloody scorers!&amp;quot;.&lt;/FONT&gt; &lt;UL&gt; &lt;P&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" SIZE=2 FACE="Arial"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/FONT&gt; &lt;/P&gt; &lt;/UL&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-112486988587693894?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/112486988587693894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=112486988587693894' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/112486988587693894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/112486988587693894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2005/08/funny-incident-cricket.html' title='Funny Incident (Cricket)'/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-112306557262238309</id><published>2005-08-03T16:09:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-04-20T21:54:26.173+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Friendship</title><content type='html'>A story tells that two friends were walking through the desert. During some point of the journey they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face. The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, wrote in the sand:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath.The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mire and started drowning,but the friend saved him. After he recovered from the near drowning,he wrote on a stone:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;" TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SAVED MY LIFE. "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him,"After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now, you write on a stone,why?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other friend replied:"When someone hurts us we should write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness can erase it away. But, when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone where no wind can ever erase it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Learn to write your hurts in the sand and to carve your benefits in stone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them,but Then an Entire Lifetime to Forget Them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-112306557262238309?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/112306557262238309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=112306557262238309' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/112306557262238309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/112306557262238309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2005/08/friendship.html' title='Friendship'/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-112117126358197401</id><published>2005-07-12T17:57:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-07-12T17:57:43.596+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Does God Exist? (Quoted)</title><content type='html'>&lt;DIV class=Section1&gt; &lt;P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 12pt"&gt;&lt;FONT face="Times New Roman"  size=3&gt;&lt;SPAN style="FONT-SIZE: 12pt"&gt;&lt;FONT color=#0000ff&gt;Does God  Exist?&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;This is one of the best explanations of why God allows pain  and&lt;BR&gt;suffering that I have seen. &amp;nbsp;It's an explanation other people  will&lt;BR&gt;understand.&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;A man went to a barbershop to have his hair cut and  his beard trimmed.&lt;BR&gt;As the barber began to work, they began to have a good  conversation.&lt;BR&gt;They talked about so many things and various  subjects.&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;When they eventually touched on the subject of God, the barber  said: &lt;BR&gt;"I don't believe that God exists."&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;"Why do you say that?" asked  the customer.&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;"Well, you just have to go out in the street to realize  that God&lt;BR&gt;doesn't exist. Tell me, if God exists, would there be so many sick  &lt;BR&gt;people? Would there be abandoned children? If God existed, there would&lt;BR&gt;be  neither suffering nor pain. I can't imagine a loving a God who&lt;BR&gt;would allow  all of these things."&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;The customer thought for a moment, but didn't  respond because he &lt;BR&gt;didn't want to start an argument. The barb er finished  his job and the&lt;BR&gt;customer left the shop. Just after he left the barbershop, he  saw a&lt;BR&gt;man in the street with long, stringy, dirty hair and an  untrimmed&lt;BR&gt;beard. He looked dirty and unkempt. &lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;The customer turned  back and entered the barber shop again and he said&lt;BR&gt;to the barber: "You know  what? Barbers do not exist."&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;"How can you say that?" asked the surp rised  barber.&lt;BR&gt;"I am here, and I am a &lt;BR&gt;barber. And I just worked on  you!"&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;"No!" the customer exclaimed. "Barbers don't exist because if  they&lt;BR&gt;did, there would be no people with dirty long hair and  untrimmed&lt;BR&gt;beards, like that man outside." &lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;"Ah, but barbers DO exist!  What happens is, people do not come to me."&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;"Exactly!"- affirmed the  customer. "That's the point! God, too, DOES&lt;BR&gt;exist!&lt;BR&gt;&lt;BR&gt;What happens, is,  people don't go to Him and do not look for Him. &lt;BR&gt;That's why there's so much  pain and suffering in the world."&lt;BR&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/P&gt; &lt;P class=MsoNormal style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 12pt"&gt;&lt;FONT face="Times New Roman"  size=3&gt;&lt;SPAN style="FONT-SIZE: 12pt"&gt;&lt;FONT  color=#0000ff&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/P&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/DIV&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-112117126358197401?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/112117126358197401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=112117126358197401' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/112117126358197401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/112117126358197401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2005/07/does-god-exist-quoted.html' title='Does God Exist? (Quoted)'/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-112071756142591104</id><published>2005-07-07T11:56:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-07-07T11:56:01.436+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The Mayonnaise Jar and the 2 Cups of Coffee... </title><content type='html'>&lt;FONT face=Arial color=#0000ff  size=2&gt;The Mayonnaise Jar and the 2 Cups of Coffee... &lt;BR&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;BR&gt;When things  in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are&amp;nbsp;  &lt;BR&gt;not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the 2 cups of coffee.  &lt;BR&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;BR&gt;A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items  in front of him.&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very  large and empty mayonnaise jar&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;and proceeded to fill it with golf  balls.&amp;nbsp; He then asked the students if the jar was full.&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;They  agreed that it was.&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;BR&gt;The professor then picked up a box of  pebbles and poured them into the jar.&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;He shook the jar lightly. The  pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls.&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;He then  asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.&amp;nbsp;  &lt;BR&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;BR&gt;The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the  jar.&amp;nbsp; Of course,&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;the sand filled up everything else. He asked  once more if the jar was full.&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;The students responded with a unanimous  "yes."&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;BR&gt;The professor then produced two cups of coffee from  under the table and poured the&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;entire contents into the jar  effectively filling the empty space between the sand.&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;The students  laughed. &lt;BR&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;BR&gt;"Now," said the professor as the laughter subsided, "I  want you to recognize that&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;this jar represents your life. The golf  balls are the important things--God, your family,&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;your children, your  health, your friends and your favorite passions--and if everything&amp;nbsp;  &lt;BR&gt;else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The  pebbles are the&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;other things that matter like your job, your house and  your car. The sand is everything&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;else--the small stuff."  &lt;BR&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;BR&gt;"If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is  no room for the pebbles or&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;the golf balls. The same goes for life. If  you spend all your time and energy on the small&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;stuff you will never  have room for the things that are important to you. "Pay attention to&amp;nbsp;  &lt;BR&gt;the things that are critical to your happiness.&amp;nbsp; Play with your  children. Take time to get&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;medical checkups. Take your spouse out to  dinner. Play another 18. There will always be&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;ime to clean the  house and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first--the things&amp;nbsp;  &lt;BR&gt;that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."  &lt;BR&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;BR&gt;One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee  represented. The&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked. It just goes  to show you that no matter how full&amp;nbsp; &lt;BR&gt;your life may seem, there's always  room for a couple of cups of coffee with a  friend."&amp;nbsp;&lt;BR&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;BR&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;BR&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-112071756142591104?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/112071756142591104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=112071756142591104' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/112071756142591104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/112071756142591104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2005/07/mayonnaise-jar-and-2-cups-of-coffee.html' title='The Mayonnaise Jar and the 2 Cups of Coffee... '/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-112022666347323776</id><published>2005-07-01T19:34:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-07-20T01:35:53.033+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Something i wrote 10 yrs back</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The everenchanting love never dies but till the call comes from His home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;Each night with tides the desire of touching thee rides..&lt;br /&gt;But each ebb it flows back with a sigh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;In vain it wishes to steer thru the sky.. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;Helpless but not hopeless the waves never lose the battle &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;hence with tide they arise to the moon's surprise never to settle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;The grass over the ground lies bare &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;but adores the flower that blooms and stares &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;for some flowers are so innocent with a divine gloss &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;that its loveliest petals reflect the delicatest floss &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;That the grass would sometimes ponder &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;if it could ever touch that lovely wonder &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;But with this wish to caress the elite &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;it gets crushed under some ignorant feet.. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;But still every fortnight the waves splatter &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;And the grass grows ceaselessly sans fetters &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;Untill some drought shall dry the lagoon &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;and the grass shall wither on a summer afternoon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-112022666347323776?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/112022666347323776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=112022666347323776' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/112022666347323776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/112022666347323776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2005/07/something-i-wrote-10-yrs-back.html' title='Something i wrote 10 yrs back'/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-111901799915599790</id><published>2005-06-17T19:49:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-17T19:49:59.156+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Siddhu's Commentary...!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;!-- Converted from text/rtf format --&gt; &lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;If you have been hearing Siddu's commentary for cricket matches... you are bound to be amused with his creativity in forming sentences. Here are some examples !!&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; a.. A girl born beautiful is half married&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; b.. The Indians need to behave as if they are in a boat with a hole. There is no team co-operation&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; c.. His slower ball was so slow that my mama can run faster than that.&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; d.. The world is all about mind and matter, i don't mind and u don't matter...&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; e.. In London they drive on the left, in India we drive on what is left!&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; f.. Still waters run deep. The Indians were so still in the 3rd test that they ran into deep oceans&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; g.. Ganguly moves so slowly on the field like jack of jack n jill who goes to fetch pail of runs for the&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; opposition...&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; h.. Umpires are like traffic police -the techniques they use to give a decision are outdated&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; i.. Flip the coin and there is no head or tail. (India plays the cricket without any aim)&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; j.. Harbhajan could be a windmill with a single blade during a hurricane, when batting&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; k.. Strutting around wicket as proud as peacock&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; l.. A barking dog better than a sleeping Lion So go on Indians Bark aloud and let everyone hear you louder!!!&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; m.. The dog that barks last, barks best&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; n.. SUCCESS HAS MANY FATHERS .... FAILURE IS AN ORPHAN!!!!!&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; o.. S.Ramesh's running between the wickets is like a snail going slow!&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; p.. He is like an indian transistor which does not work until you give it two slaps.&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; q.. If u r trying to beat india in their home you are you trying to get milk out of an ox.&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT SIZE=2 FACE="Courier New"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; r.. Indian team is just like indian monsoon.you just cant predict when there will be flood &amp;amp; when drought.&lt;/FONT&gt; &lt;/P&gt; &lt;BR&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-111901799915599790?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/111901799915599790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=111901799915599790' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/111901799915599790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/111901799915599790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2005/06/siddhus-commentary.html' title='Siddhu&apos;s Commentary...!!'/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-111900626544122096</id><published>2005-06-17T16:34:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2006-06-26T04:25:10.580+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Stanford address by Apple Chief....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="OutlookMessageHeader" dir="ltr" align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Tahoma;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="Section1"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="headline1"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;'You've got to find what you love,' Jobs says&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:Arial;color:#33ff33;"  &gt;This is the text of the Commencement address by Steve Jobs, CEO of Apple Computer and of Pixar Animation Studios, delivered on June 12, 2005.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;The first story is about connecting the dots. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;I dropped out of &lt;?xml:namespace prefix = st1 /&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Reed&lt;/st1:placename&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;College&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out? &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example: &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Reed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:placename&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt; &lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;College&lt;/st1:placetype&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt; at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, its likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;My second story is about love and loss. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;I was lucky – I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation - the Macintosh - a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me – I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Toy Story&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I retuned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;My third story is about death. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything – all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at &lt;st1:time st="on" minute="30" hour="19"&gt;7:30&lt;/st1:time&gt; in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope its the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept: &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;When I was young, there was an amazing publication called &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;The Whole Earth Catalog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city style="BACKGROUND-POSITION: left bottom; BACKGROUND-IMAGE: url(res://ietag.dll/#34/#1001); BACKGROUND-REPEAT: repeat-x" tabindex="0" st="on"&gt;Menlo Park&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Stewart and his team put out several issues of &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;The Whole Earth Catalog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;Thank you all very much. &lt;span class="003400211-17062005"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="003400211-17062005"  style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-111900626544122096?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/111900626544122096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=111900626544122096' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/111900626544122096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/111900626544122096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2005/06/stanford-address-by-apple-chief.html' title='Stanford address by Apple Chief....'/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-111884186195684401</id><published>2005-06-15T18:54:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-15T18:54:21.956+05:30</updated><title type='text'>What Goes Comes Around..!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;!-- Converted from text/rtf format --&gt; &lt;BR&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;His name was Fleming, and he was a poor Scottish farmer. One day, while trying to make 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.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;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.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;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.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;quot;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#FF0000" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;I want to repay you&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;,&amp;quot; said the nobleman. &amp;quot;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#FF0000" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;You saved my son's life.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;quot;&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;quot;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#FF0000" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;No, I can't accept payment for what I did,&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;quot; the Scottish farmer replied waving off the offer. At that moment, the farmer's own son came to the door of the family hovel.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;quot;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#FF0000" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;Is that your son?&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;quot; the nobleman asked.&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;quot;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#FF0000" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;Yes,&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;quot; the farmer replied proudly.&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;quot;&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#FF0000" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;I'll make you a deal. Let me provide him with the level of education my own son will enjoy. If the lad is anything like his father, he'll no doubt grow to be a man we both will be proud of.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;quot; And that he did.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Farmer Fleming's son attended the very best schools and in time, graduated from St. Mary's Hospital Medical School in London, and went on to become known throughout the world as the noted&lt;/FONT&gt; &lt;FONT COLOR="#993366" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;Sir Alexander Fleming&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;, the discoverer of&lt;/FONT&gt; &lt;FONT COLOR="#993366" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;Penicillin&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Years afterward, the same nobleman's son who was saved from the bog was stricken with pneumonia.&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;What saved his life this time? Penicillin.&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;The name of the nobleman ?&lt;/FONT&gt; &lt;FONT COLOR="#993366" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;Lord Randolph Churchill&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;.&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;His son's name?&lt;/FONT&gt; &lt;FONT COLOR="#993366" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;Sir Winston Churchill&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;.&lt;/FONT&gt; &lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Someone once said: What goes around comes around.&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Work like you don't need the money.&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Love like you've never been hurt.&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Dance like nobody's watching.&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Sing like nobody's listening.&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Live like it's Heaven on Earth.&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;May there always be work for your hands to do;&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;May your purse always hold a coin or two&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;May the sun always shine on your windowpane&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;May the hand of a friend always be near you&lt;/FONT&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;&amp;nbsp;May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.&lt;/FONT&gt; &lt;/P&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-111884186195684401?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/111884186195684401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=111884186195684401' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/111884186195684401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/111884186195684401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2005/06/what-goes-comes-around.html' title='What Goes Comes Around..!!'/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-111883574914385342</id><published>2005-06-15T17:12:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-15T18:57:05.470+05:30</updated><title type='text'>LOVE</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#33ff33;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10th Grade&lt;br /&gt;As I sat there in English class, I stared at the girl next to me. She was my so called 'best friend'. I stared at her long, silky hair, and wished she was mine. But she didn't notice me like that, and I knew it. After class, she walked up to me and asked me for the notes she had missed the day before. I handed them to her. She said 'thanks' and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;11th grade&lt;br /&gt;The phone rang. On the other end, it was her. She was in tears, mumbling on and on about how her love had broken her heart. She asked me to come over because she didn't want to be alone, which I did. As I sat next to her on the sofa, I stared at her soft eyes, wishing she was mine. After 2 hours, and one Drew Barrymore movie, and three bags of chips, she decided to go home. She looked at me, said 'thanks' and gave me a kiss on the cheek..I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Senior year&lt;br /&gt;One fine day she walked to my locker. "My date is sick" she said, "his not gonna go", well, I too didn't have a date, and in 7th grade, we made a promise that if neither of us had dates, we would go together just as 'best friends'. So we did. That night, after everything was over, I was standing at her front door step. I stared at her as she smiled at me and stared at me with her crystal eyes. Then she said- "I had the best time, thanks!" and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;Graduation&lt;br /&gt;A day passed, then a week, then a month. Before I could blink, it was graduation day. I watched as her perfect body floated like an angel up on stage to get her diploma. I wanted her to be mine-but she didn't notice me like that, and I knew it. Before everyone went home, she came to me in her smock and hat, and cried as I hugged her. Then she lifted her head from my shoulder and said- 'you're my best friend, thanks' and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marriage&lt;br /&gt;Now I sit in the pews of the church. That girl is getting married now. and will be driving off to her new life, married to another man. I wanted her to be mine, but she didn't see me like that, and I knew it. But before she drove away, she came to me and said 'you came ...!'. She said 'thanks' and kissed me on the cheek. I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Death&lt;br /&gt;Years passed, I looked down at the coffin of a girl who used to be my 'best friend'. At the service, they read a diary entry she had wrote in her high school years. This is what it read: "I stare at him wishing he was mine; but he doesn't notice me like that, and I know it. I want to tell him, I want him to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love him but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why. I wish he would tell me he loved me! .........'I wish I did too...' I thought to my self, and I cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Bell is not a bell until someone rings it... A Song is not a song unitl someone sings it.. Don't hide yur true feeling'......coz' Love is not Love until someone reveals it...!&lt;br /&gt;* Do yourself a favor; tell her/him you love them. They won't be there...................Forever. " &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-111883574914385342?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/111883574914385342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=111883574914385342' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/111883574914385342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/111883574914385342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2005/06/love.html' title='LOVE'/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-111881460335296145</id><published>2005-06-15T11:20:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-15T11:20:03.356+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Never Forget..!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;!-- Converted from text/rtf format --&gt; &lt;BR&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;B&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#00FF00" FACE="Times New Roman"&gt;There was once this guy who is very much in love with his girl. This romantic guy folded 1,000 pieces of paper cranes as a gift to his girl.&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; Although, at that time he was just a small fry in his company, his future didn't seem too bright, they were very happy together. Until one day, his girl told him she was going to Paris and will never come back. She also told him that she cannot visualize any future for the both of them, so they went their own ways there and then...&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; Heartbroken, the guy agreed. But when he regained his confidence, he worked hard day and night, slogging his body and mind just to make&lt;BR&gt; something out of himself. &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/B&gt; &lt;BR&gt; &lt;UL&gt; &lt;P&gt;&lt;B&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#00FF00" FACE="Times New Roman"&gt;Finally with all the hard work and the help of friends, this guy had set up his own company.&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; You never fail until you stop trying. One rainy day, while this guy was driving, he saw an elderly couple sharing an umbrella in the rain&lt;BR&gt; walking to some destination. Even with the umbrella, they were still drenched. It didn't take him long to realize they were his girl's parents.&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; With a heart in getting back at them, he drove slowly beside the couple, wanting them to spot him in his luxury sedan. He wanted them to know that he wasn't the same any more; he had his own company, car, condo, etc. He made it! What he saw next confused him, the couple was walking towards a cemetery, and so he got out of his car and followed...and he saw his girl, a photograph of her smiling sweetly as ever at him from her tombstone and he saw his paper cranes right&lt;BR&gt; beside her... &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/B&gt; &lt;BR&gt;  &lt;BR&gt;&lt;B&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#00FF00" FACE="Times New Roman"&gt;Her parents saw him. He asked them why this had happened. They explained, s! he did not leave for France at all. She was ill with cancer. She had believed that he will make it someday, but she did not want to be his obstacle... therefore she had chosen to leave him. Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to,&lt;BR&gt; doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have. She had wanted her parents to put his paper cranes beside her, because, if the day comes when fate brings him to her again...he can take some of those back with him...&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; Once you have loved, you will always love. For what's in your mind may escape but what's in your heart will remain forever. &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/B&gt;&lt;/P&gt; &lt;BR&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;B&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#00FF00" FACE="Times New Roman"&gt;The guy just wept...The worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside her knowing you can't have her, see her or be with her ever again.........hope you understand.&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; Find time to realize that there is one person who means so much to you, for you mig! ht wake up one morning losing that person who you thought meant nothing to you.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/B&gt;&lt;/P&gt; &lt;BR&gt; &lt;/UL&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-111881460335296145?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/111881460335296145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=111881460335296145' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/111881460335296145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/111881460335296145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2005/06/never-forget.html' title='Never Forget..!!'/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-111881450327893631</id><published>2005-06-15T11:18:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-15T11:18:23.290+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Wow..!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;!-- Converted from text/rtf format --&gt; &lt;BR&gt;  &lt;P ALIGN=CENTER&gt;&lt;B&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#000080" SIZE=6 FACE="Verdana"&gt;Wow!&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/B&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#000000" FACE="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;/FONT&gt; &lt;/P&gt;  &lt;P ALIGN=CENTER&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#000080" FACE="Antique Olive"&gt;Last spring I was walking in a park. A short distance ahead of me was a mom and her three-year-old daughter. The little girl was holding on to a string that was attached to a helium balloon.&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; All of a sudden, a sharp gust of wind took the balloon from the little girl. I braced myself for some screaming and crying.&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; But, no! As the little girl turned to watch her balloon go skyward, she gleefully shouted out, &amp;quot;Wow!&amp;quot;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; I didn't realize it at that moment, but that little girl taught me something.&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; Later that day, I received a phone call from a person with news of an unexpected problem. I felt like responding with &amp;quot;Oh no, what should we do?&amp;quot; But remembering that little girl, I found myself saying, &amp;quot;Wow, that's interesting! How can I help you?&amp;quot;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; One thing's for sure - life's always going to keep us off balance with its unexpected problems. That's a given. What's not preordained is our response. We can choose to be frustrated or fascinated.&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; No matter what the situation, a fascinated &amp;quot;Wow!&amp;quot; will always beat a frustrated &amp;quot;Oh, no.&amp;quot;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; So the next time you experience one of life's unexpected gusts, remember that little girl and make it a &amp;quot;Wow!&amp;quot; experience. The &amp;quot;Wow!&amp;quot; response always works.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/P&gt; &lt;BR&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-111881450327893631?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/111881450327893631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=111881450327893631' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/111881450327893631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/111881450327893631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2005/06/wow.html' title='Wow..!!'/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13664305.post-111876017356982959</id><published>2005-06-14T20:12:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2005-06-14T20:12:53.573+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes</title><content type='html'>&lt;!-- Converted from text/rtf format --&gt; &lt;BR&gt;  &lt;P&gt;&lt;FONT COLOR="#800080" SIZE=2 FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;Sometimes we wonder, &amp;quot;What did I do to deserve this?&amp;quot; or &amp;quot;Why did God have to do this to me?&amp;quot; Here is a wonderful explanation! A daughter is telling her Mother how everything is going wrong, she's failing algebra, her boyfriend broke up with her and her best friend is moving away.&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; Meanwhile, her Mother is baking a cake and asks her daughter if she would like a snack, and the daughter says, &amp;quot;Absolutely Mom, I love your cake.&amp;quot;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; &amp;quot;Here, have some cooking oil,&amp;quot; her Mother offers. &amp;quot;Yuck&amp;quot; says her daughter.&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; &amp;quot;How about a couple raw eggs?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Gross, Mom!&amp;quot;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; &amp;quot;Would you like some flour then? Or maybe baking soda?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Mom, those are all yucky!&amp;quot;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; To which the mother replies: &amp;quot;Yes, all those things seem bad all by themselves. But when they are put together in the right way, they make a wonderfully delicious cake!&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; God works the same way. Many times we wonder why He would let us go through such bad and difficult times. But God knows that when He puts these things all in His order, they always work for good! We just have to trust Him and, eventually, they will all make something wonderful!&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; God is crazy about you. He sends you flowers every spring and a sunrise every morning.&lt;BR&gt; &lt;BR&gt; Whenever you want to talk, He'll listen. He can live anywhere in the universe, and He chose your heart.&lt;BR&gt; &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;B&gt;&lt;BR&gt; &lt;FONT COLOR="#0000FF" SIZE=2 FACE="Comic Sans MS"&gt;Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/B&gt; &lt;/P&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13664305-111876017356982959?l=theworldznotenough.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/feeds/111876017356982959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13664305&amp;postID=111876017356982959' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/111876017356982959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13664305/posts/default/111876017356982959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theworldznotenough.blogspot.com/2005/06/sometimes.html' title='Sometimes'/><author><name>SpoilSport</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
