Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Nothing is Perfect

Nothing is perfect. 

Life is messy. 

Relationships are complex. 

Outcomes are uncertain. 

People are irrational.

Hugh Mackay

Thursday, February 5, 2015

The Quality of Mercy

The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
The Merchant of Venice, Act 4, Scene 1


Sunday, January 25, 2015

Who steals my purse steals trash

Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls.
Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.

Shakespeare, Othello Act 3, scene 3, 155–161

Pushp ki Abhilasha

पुष्प की अभिलाषा / माखनलाल चतुर्वेदी


चाह नहीं मैं सुरबाला के
गहनों में गूँथा जाऊँ,
चाह नहीं प्रेमी-माला में
बिंध प्यारी को ललचाऊँ,
चाह नहीं, सम्राटों के शव
पर, हे हरि, डाला जाऊँ
चाह नहीं, देवों के सिर पर,
चढ़ूँ भाग्य पर इठलाऊँ!
मुझे तोड़ लेना वनमाली!
उस पथ पर देना तुम फेंक,
मातृभूमि पर शीश चढ़ाने
जिस पथ जावें वीर अनेक। 

Jhansi ki Rani

 सिंहासन हिल उठे राजवंशों ने भृकुटी तानी थी,
बूढ़े भारत में भी आई फिर से नयी जवानी थी,
गुमी हुई आज़ादी की कीमत सबने पहचानी थी,
दूर फिरंगी को करने की सबने मन में ठानी थी।

चमक उठी सन सत्तावन में, वह तलवार पुरानी थी,
बुंदेले हरबोलों के मुँह हमने सुनी कहानी थी,
खूब लड़ी मर्दानी वह तो झाँसी वाली रानी थी।।


जाओ रानी याद रखेंगे ये कृतज्ञ भारतवासी,
यह तेरा बलिदान जगावेगा स्वतंत्रता अविनासी,
होवे चुप इतिहास, लगे सच्चाई को चाहे फाँसी,
हो मदमाती विजय, मिटा दे गोलों से चाहे झाँसी।

तेरा स्मारक तू ही होगी, तू खुद अमिट निशानी थी,
बुंदेले हरबोलों के मुँह हमने सुनी कहानी थी,
खूब लड़ी मर्दानी वह तो झाँसी वाली रानी थी।।

(source: www.kavitakosh.org/kk/झांसी_की_रानी_/_सुभद्राकुमारी_चौहान )

Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury, pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is darkness, light;

where there is sadness, joy;

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Saturday, January 24, 2015

Sherlock Holmes affection for his friend

Background: In 'The Adventure Of The Three Garridebs', Sherlock Holmes and his friend Dr. Watson visit a criminal's house. 

De Watson writes this:

In an instant he (the criminal) had whisked out a revolver from his breast and had fired two shots. I felt a sudden hot sear as if a red-hot iron had been pressed to my thigh. There was a crash as Holmes's pistol came down on the man's head. I had a vision of him sprawling upon the floor with blood running down his face while Holmes rummaged him for weapons. Then my friend's wiry arms were round me, and he was leading me to a chair. 

"You're not hurt, Watson? For God's sake, say that you are not hurt!" 

It was worth a wound -- it was worth many wounds -- to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.

"It's nothing, Holmes. It's a mere scratch."

He had ripped up my trousers with his pocket-knife.

"You are right," he cried with an immense sigh of relief. "It is quite superficial." His face set like flint as he glared at our prisoner, who was sitting up with a dazed face. "By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive. Now, sir, what have you to say for yourself?"