[5648] in Central_America

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New quotes for Wed Nov 9

daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Central America)
Wed Nov 9 03:47:04 1994

Date: Wed, 9 Nov 1994 03:46:22 -0500
From: Central America <root@charon.MIT.EDU>
To: ca-mtg@charon.MIT.EDU


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cat (Calista E Tait):

Love is a stranger in an open car; it temps you in and drives you far
away.

And I want you.
And I want you.
And I want you.
So it's an obsession.

Love is a danger of a diffent kind; it'll take you away and leave you
far behind.

And love is a dangeous drug; 
Even after you receive it, you still can't get enough of the stuff.
It's savage and it's cruel and it shines like destruction; come in like a
flood and seems like religion.  It's noble and its brutal and it distorts
and deranges and it drenches you over and you're left like a zombie.

It edged and glamerous and sleek by design.
It's jealous by nature, false and unkind.
It hard to restrain and totally cruel.
It touches and it teases as you stumble.

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dsanchez (Diana M Sanchez):


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hss (Hany Saleeb):

If not logged in, I was geeking until: Tue Nov 8 20:41:19 EST 1994      
              /|   
\/           / |\   Excellence is an art won by training and  habit.
            /  | \   We  do not act rightly because  we  have virtue
           /   || \   or  excellence, but   we   rather have   those
          /    | | \   because we have acted rightly. We are what we 
         /     | |  \   repeatedly do.  Excellence, then,  is no act
 \/     /      | |   \    but a habit.
       /       /      \                          -Aristotle
      /_______/        \
     ________/__________--/ 
     \___________________/ 

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jcb (Jeff Bigler):

But it happened that after walking for a long time through sand, and
rocks, and snow, the little prince at last came upon a road.  And all
roads lead to the abodes of men.

"Good morning," he said.

He was standing before a garden, all a-bloom with roses.

"Good morning," said the roses.

The little prince gazed at them.  They all looked like his flower.

"Who are you?" he demanded, thunderstruck.

"We are roses," the roses said.

And he was overcome with sadness.  His flower had told him that she was
the only one of her kind in all the universe.  And here were five
thousand of them, all alike, in one single garden!

"She would be very much annoyed," he said to himself, "if she should see
that...She would cough most dreadfully, and she would pretend that she
was dying, to avoid being laughed at.  And I should be obliged to
pretend that I was nursing her back to life--for if I did not do that,
to humble myself also, she would really allow herself to die..."

Then he went on with his reflections: "I thought that I was rich, with a
flower that was unique in all the world; and all I had was a common
rose.  A common rose, and three volcanoes that come up to my knees--and
one of them perhaps extinct forever...That doesn't make me a very great
prince..."

And he lay down in the grass and cried.

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reshin (Royce S.):

{from system: This user's .plan file is not world-readable}

--- End of Central America ---

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