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To: 2MAR$ who wrote (7029)	1/20/2001 10:59:40 AM
From: HG	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 13018

Thanx for the kind word.....you have really kindled my curiosity <smile> Of course I know about Mathnawi....how could I not ? I was having a tough time reconciling the dates on your post...I asked if they were from the Islamic Calender...? And as to humanity...how true your words ring....! I recently suggested "Gita" to a friend on SI....with the following quotes to back my recommendation.... ---- In the morning I bathe my intellect in the stupendous and cosmogonal philosophy of Bhagvad Gita, incomparison of which our modern world and its literature seems puny and trivial. - Henry David Thoreu I owed a magnificent day to the Bhagvad Gita. It was the first of books; it was as if an empire spoke to us, nothing small or unworthy, but large, serene, consistent, the voice of an old intelligence which, in another age and climate, had pondered and thus disposed of the same questions which exercise us. - Ralph Waldo Emerson When doubts haunt me, when disappointments stare me in the face, and i see not one ray of hope on the horizon, i turn to Bhagvad Gita and find a verse to comfort me; and I immediately begin to smile in the midst of overwhelming sorrow. - Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi ------- Enjoy the weekend...

To: 2MAR$ who wrote (7029)	1/27/2001 9:55:47 PM
From: X Y Zebra	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 13018

I am not sure that I exist, actually. I am all the writers that I have read, all the people that I have met, all the women that I have loved; all the cities that I have visited, all my ancestors . . . Perhaps I would have liked to be my father, who wrote and had the decency of not publishing. Nothing, nothing, my friend; what I have told you: I am not sure of anything, I know nothing . . . Can you imagine that I not even know the date of my death? -- Uknown source

To: 2MAR$ who wrote (7029)	2/1/2001 4:37:05 PM
From: Volsi Mimir	Respond to of 13018

Halley's Comet ~Stanley Kunitz Miss Murphy in first grade wrote its name in chalk across the board and told us it was roaring down the stormtracks of the Milky Way at frightful speed and if it wandered off its course and smashed into the earth there'd be no school tomorrow. A red-bearded preacher from the hills with a wild look in his eyes stood in the public square at the playground's edge proclaiming he was sent by God to save every one of us, even the little children. "Repent, ye sinners!" he shouted, waving his hand-lettered sign. At supper I felt sad to think that it was probably the last meal I'd share with my mother and my sisters; but I felt excited too and scarcely touched my plate. So mother scolded me and sent me early to my room. The whole family's asleep except for me. They never heard me steal into the stairwell hall and climb the ladder to the fresh night air. Look for me, Father, on the roof of the red brick building at the foot of Green Street -- that's where we live, you know, on the top floor. I'm the boy in the white flannel gown sprawled on this coarse gravel bed searching the starry sky, waiting for the world to end.