The Motivational Adda

"Believe you can And you`re halfway there."

The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood, Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it. And from there those that lifted eyes could count Five mountain ranges one behind the other Under the sunset far into Vermont. And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled, As it ran light, or had to bear a load. And nothing happened: day was all but done. Call it a day, I wish they might have said To please the boy by giving him the half hour That a boy counts so much when saved from work. His sister stood beside him in her apron To tell them ‘Supper.’ At the word, the saw, As if to prove saws knew what supper meant, Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap— He must have given the hand. However it was,  Neither refused the meeting. But the hand! The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh, As he swung toward them holding up the hand Half in appeal, but half as if to keep The lif

"You Can`t get Positive Results with A Negative Mind."

"Happiness is not something Readymade.It Comes from Your Own Actions."            -Dalai Lama

"An Unexamined life is not Worth Living."

"The more Dark The Night Will , The More Bright The Star Will."

Let me not to the marriage of true minds  Admit impediments. Love is not love  Which alters when it alteration finds,  Or bends with the remover to remove.  O no! it is an ever-fixed mark  That looks on tempests and is never shaken;  It is the star to every wand'ring bark,  Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.  Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  Within his bending sickle's compass come;  Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  If this be error and upon me prov'd,  I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.                            - William Shakespeare

Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all: What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call— All mine was thine before thou hadst this more. Then if for my love thou my love receivest, I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest; But yet be blamed if thou this self deceivest By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. I do forgive thy robb’ry, gentle thief, Although thou steal thee all my poverty; And yet love knows it is a greater grief To bear love’s wrong than hate’s known injury.     Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,     Kill me with spites, yet we must not be foes.                               - William Shakespeare