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“It’s not who I am underneath but what I do that defines me"

Batman Begins (the idea is taken from Socrates)

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The foolish never forgive and never forget,

The naive forgive and forget,

The wise forgive and never forget.

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~ here's one of my favorites (from the movie, Midnight In the Garden of Good and Evil)

 

                                                "Two tears in a bucket ?  

 

                                                   (mother f*ck it.) "              :smoke:

 

 

I think that is intimately related to Shrek's "The wise forgive, but never forget." quote.  :thumbup:

 

It's important to note that the wise never hold grudges though. One can remember, without holding a grudge. Grudges poison the souls of those who harness, and keep them. When you can let go, you can free your mind to think.

 

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The foolish never forgive and never forget,

The naive forgive and forget,

The wise forgive and never forget.

I love this quote

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What's mainly wrong with society today is that too many Dirt Roads have been paved.

 

There's not a problem in America today, crime, drugs, education, divorce, delinquency that wouldn't be remedied, if we just had more Dirt Roads, because Dirt Roads give character.

 

 

People that live at the end of Dirt Roads learn early on that life is a bumpy ride.

 

That it can jar you right down to your teeth sometimes, but it's worth it, if at the end is home...a loving spouse, happy kids and a dog.

 

 

 

 

We wouldn't have near the trouble with our educational system if our kids got their exercise walking a Dirt Road with other kids, from whom they learn how to get along.

 

There was less crime in our streets before they were paved.

 

 

 

 

Criminals didn't walk two dusty miles to rob or rape, if they knew they'd be welcomed by 5 barking dogs and a double barrel shotgun.

 

And there were no drive by shootings.

 

Our values were better when our roads were worse!

 

 

 

People did not worship their cars more than their kids, and motorists were more courteous, they didn't tailgate by riding the bumper or the guy in front would choke you with dust & bust your windshield with rocks.

 

Dirt Roads taught patience.

 

 

 

 

Dirt Roads were environmentally friendly, you didn't hop in your car for a quart of milk you walked to the barn for your milk.

 

For your mail, you walked to the mail box.

 

 

 

 

What if it rained and the Dirt Road got washed out? That was the best part, then you stayed home and had some family time, roasted marshmallows and popped popcorn and pony rode on Daddy's shoulders and learned how to make prettier quilts than anybody.

 

At the end of Dirt Roads, you soon learned that bad words tasted like soap.

 

 

 

 

Most paved roads lead to trouble, Dirt Roads more likely lead to a fishing creek or a swimming hole.

 

At the end of a Dirt Road, the only time we even locked our car was in August, because if we didn't some neighbor would fill it with too much zucchini.

 

 

 

At the end of a Dirt Road, there was always extra springtime income, from when city dudes would get stuck, you'd have to hitch up a team and pull them out.

 

Usually you got a dollar...always you got a new friend...at the end of a Dirt Road!

 

~by Paul Harvey~

 

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What's mainly wrong with society today is that too many Dirt Roads have been paved.

 

~by Paul Harvey~

 

I agree very much!

 

I knew a girl with a face that could make a train take a dirt road... ???

So...., Canada is where she went...., I always wondered

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So...., Canada is where she went...., I always wondered

 

Yeah, I think I went out with her once....she said that she could do better....

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A man that was down on his luck and nothing was going right decided to go for a drive. It started raining harder and harder. Lost he ended up on a dirt road that was rapidly turning to mud.

 

He got stuck. He got out and fell face down in the mud. He struggled to his feet. He shook his fist at the sky and yelled "Why me Lord? What have I done to deserve this?"

 

The clouds rolled back and a loud voice rang down. "I dont know theres just something about you that pisses me off"    :woot:

 

 

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WWII vet Jack Lucas who earned Medal of Honor at 17 dies after bout with cancer

http://www.startribune.com/19564084.html

 

Jacklyn "Jack" Lucas was just six days past his 17th birthday in February 1945 when his heroism at Iwo Jima earned him the nation's highest military honor. He used his body to shield three fellow squad members from two grenades, and was nearly killed when one exploded.

 

"A couple of grenades rolled into the trench," Lucas said in an Associated Press interview shortly before he received the medal from President Truman in October 1945. "I hollered to my pals to get out and did a Superman dive at the grenades. I wasn't a Superman after I got hit. I let out one helluva scream when that thing went off."

 

 

Rest in Peace - Warrior

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Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever.

 

Victory belongs to the most persevering.

 

Alexander, Caesar, Charlemagne, and myself founded empires; but what foundation did we rest the creations of our genius? Upon force. Jesus Christ founded an empire upon love; and at this hour millions of men would die for Him.

 

True heroism consists in being superior to the ills of life, in whatever shape they may challenge us to combat.

 

A goal is a dream with a deadline.

 

It is literally true that you can succeed best and quickest by helping others to succeed.

 

The strongest oak tree of the forest is not the one that is protected from the storm and hidden from the sun. It's the one that stands in the open where it is compelled to struggle for its existence against the winds and rains and the scorching sun.

 

In politics... never retreat, never retract... never admit a mistake.

 

The surest way to remain poor is to be an honest man. - Sad but true

 

It requires more courage to suffer than to die.

 

    Napoleon Bonaparte

    French general & politician (1769 - 1821)

 

 

And: why do we fall? so we can learn to get up! Batman's father  :rofl:

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Best one i've heard in a while: a true leader is one who risks being a fool

soooo true!!!

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"In 1851 Seattle, chief of the Suquamish and other Indian tribes around Washington's Puget Sound, delivered what is considered to be one of the most beautiful and profound environmental statements ever made. The city of Seattle is named for the chief, whose speech was in response to a proposed treaty under which the Indians were persuaded to sell two million acres of land for $150,000."

 

 

"How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us.

 

If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?

 

Every part of this earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every clearing and humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of my people. The sap which courses through the trees carries the memories of the red man.

 

The white man's dead forget the country of their birth when they go to walk among the stars. Our dead never forget this beautiful earth, for it is the mother of the red man. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters; the deer, the horse, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadows, the body heat of the pony, and man --- all belong to the same family.

 

So, when the Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land, he asks much of us. The Great Chief sends word he will reserve us a place so that we can live comfortably to ourselves. He will be our father and we will be his children.

 

So, we will consider your offer to buy our land. But it will not be easy. For this land is sacred to us. This shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you the land, you must remember that it is sacred, and you must teach your children that it is sacred and that each ghostly reflection in the clear water of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father.

 

The rivers are our brothers, they quench our thirst. The rivers carry our canoes, and feed our children. If we sell you our land, you must remember, and teach your children, that the rivers are our brothers and yours, and you must henceforth give the rivers the kindness you would give any brother.

 

We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of land is the same to him as the next, for he is a stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs. The earth is not his brother, but his enemy, and when he has conquered it, he moves on. He leaves his father's grave behind, and he does not care. He kidnaps the earth from his children, and he does not care. His father's grave, and his children's birthright are forgotten. He treats his mother, the earth, and his brother, the sky, as things to be bought, plundered, sold like sheep or bright beads. His appetite will devour the earth and leave behind only a desert.

 

I do not know. Our ways are different than your ways. The sight of your cities pains the eyes of the red man. There is no quiet place in the white man's cities. No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring or the rustle of the insect's wings. The clatter only seems to insult the ears. And what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lonely cry of the whippoorwill or the arguments of the frogs around the pond at night? I am a red man and do not understand. The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of a pond and the smell of the wind itself, cleaned by a midday rain, or scented with pinon pine.

 

The air is precious to the red man for all things share the same breath, the beast, the tree, the man, they all share the same breath. The white man does not seem to notice the air he breathes. Like a man dying for many days he is numb to the stench. But if we sell you our land, you must remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.

 

The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh. And if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred as a place where even the white man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow's flowers.

 

So we will consider your offer to buy our land. If we decide to accept, I will make one condition - the white man must treat the beasts of this land as his brothers.

 

I am a savage and do not understand any other way. I have seen a thousand rotting buffaloes on the prairie, left by the white man who shot them from a passing train. I am a savage and do not understand how the smoking iron horse can be made more important than the buffalo that we kill only to stay alive.

 

What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, man would die from a great loneliness of the spirit. For whatever happens to the beasts, soon happens to man. All things are connected.

 

You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of our grandfathers. So that they will respect the land, tell your children that the earth is rich with the lives of our kin. Teach your children that we have taught our children that the earth is our mother. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of earth. If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves.

 

This we know; the earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth. This we know. All things are connected like the blood which unites one family. All things are connected.

 

Even the white man, whose God walks and talks with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We shall see. One thing we know which the white man may one day discover; our God is the same God.

 

You may think now that you own Him as you wish to own our land; but you cannot. He is the God of man, and His compassion is equal for the red man and the white. The earth is precious to Him, and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its creator. The whites too shall pass; perhaps sooner than all other tribes. Contaminate your bed and you will one night suffocate in your own waste.

 

But in your perishing you will shine brightly fired by the strength of the God who brought you to this land and for some special purpose gave you dominion over this land and over the red man.

 

That destiny is a mystery to us, for we do not understand when the buffalo are all slaughtered, the wild horses are tamed, the secret corners of the forest heavy with the scent of many men and the view of the ripe hills blotted by talking wires.

 

Where is the thicket? Gone. Where is the eagle? Gone.

 

The end of living and the beginning of survival.

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"In 1851 Seattle, chief of the Suquamish and other Indian tribes around Washington's Puget Sound, delivered what is considered to be one of the most beautiful and profound environmental statements....

 

 

Beautiful piece, Taken.  I have that in my personal list of quotes....from many years ago.  I may have a different translation...but the power is the same.  "What man does to one thing in the web of life...he does to all."

 

 

Those of us who have hunted, and killed, and eaten of what this world provides exist in a different place than those who have only ever eaten that which someone else has killed.  I think we recognize to a much greater degree that if we don't protect that which we eat...we only kill ourselves.  The sportsmen of America have contributed millions of dollars through fees and donations to try to protect our wild lands and creatures.  I think we feel much more akin to the Native American than our fellow Americans in a lot of cases.  The following is a simple and elegant poem, but I'm not sure it is correct....when the hunter is in the hills....he is home.

 

Home Is the Sailor

 

 

 

Home is the sailor, home from sea:

 

    Her far-borne canvas furled

 

The ship pours shining on the quay

 

    The plunder of the world.

 

 

 

Home is the hunter from the hill:

 

    Fast in the boundless snare

 

All flesh lies taken at his will

 

    And every fowl of air.

 

 

 

'Tis evening on the moorland free,

 

    The starlit wave is still:

 

Home is the sailor from the sea,

 

    The hunter from the hill.

 

 

A.E. Housman

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From:  http://www.irenasendler.org/facts.asp

 

Irena Sendlerowa is a Polish Catholic woman who, along with her underground network, rescued 2,500 Jewish children in Poland during World War II.

 

As early as 1939, when the Germans invaded Warsaw, Irena began helping Jews by offering them food and shelter.

 

When the Warsaw Ghetto was erected in 1940, Irena could no longer help isolated Jews. The Ghetto enclosed 16 square blocks of the city and 450,000 Jewish people were forced into this area.

 

Irena first rescued the orphan children from inside the Ghetto.

 

Irena used her papers as a Polish social worker and papers from one of the workers of the Contagious Disease Department (who was a member of the underground Zegota) to enter the Warsaw Ghetto.

 

To show her solidarity with the Jewish people, she put on the mandatory Star of David armband on her right arm when entering the ghetto.

 

Irena and the ten who went with her into the ghetto, used many, many methods to smuggle children out. There were five main means of escape: 1- using an ambulance a child could be taken out hidden under the stretcher. 2 - escape through the courthouse. 3 - a child could be taken out using the sewer pipes or other secret underground passages. 4- A trolley could carry out children hiding in a sack, in a trunk, a suitcase or something similar. 5 - if a child could pretend to be sick or was acutally very ill, it could be legally removed using the ambulance.

 

There was a church next to the ghetto, but the entrance leading to it was "sealed" by the Germans, but if a child could speak perfect Polish and rattle off some Christian prayers it could be smuggled in through the "sealed" entrance and later taken to the Aryan side. This was very dangerous since Germans often used a ruse to trick the Poles and then arrest Jolanta/Irena documented on the strips of paper she had buried, as well as where the child was taken in the first phase of its escape.

 

Irena (code name Jolanta) was arrested on October 20, 1943. When arrested she felt almost liberated. She was placed in the notorious Piawiak prison, where she was constantly questioned and tortured. During the questioning she had her legs and feet fractured.

 

The German who interrogated her was young, very stylish and spoke perfect Polish. He wanted the names of the Zegota leaders, their addresses and the names of others involved. Irena fed him the version that she and her collaborators had prepared in the event they were captured. The German held up a folder with information of places, times and persons who had informed on her. She received a death sentence. She was to be shot. Unbeknown to her, Zegota had bribed the German executioner who helped her escape. On the following day the Germans loudly proclaimed her execution. Posters were put up all over the city with the news that she was shot. Irena read the posters herself.

 

During the remaining years of the war, she lived hidden, just like the children she rescued. Irena was the only one who knew where the children were to be found. When the war was finally over, she dug up the bottles and began the job of finding the children and trying to find a living parent.

 

Almost all the parents of the children Irena saved, died at the Treblinka death camp.

 

Zegota made it clear to all of those hiding children, when the war was over, they must be returned to Jewish relatives. In many cases there were no relatives to be found.

 

Irena Sendler passed away on May 12th, at 8AM (Warsaw time) in Warsaw, Poland.  Irena was 98 years old.

 

Rest In Peace

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