Hello Dear Friends
It's a worth collection from our dear Darius's art in narration's field.
All of those top texts are so rich and valuable for listening and reading which were missed in our group.
And also let me say that:
Dear Darius
This is presented to you because of your unique voice and great selections.
*Daffodils
**The Raven
***Fruits of the Earth
****Mahatma Gandhi's Writings
*****Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Letter
Replies
Gabriel García Marquez's Letter
“If for an instant God forgot that I am just a puppet, and He gave me one more piece of life, I would take advantage of that time, the best I could.” I would probably not say everything I think, but definitely think all I say. I would sleep less and dream more. For every minute we close our eyes we lose sixty seconds of light. I would continue where others have stopped and I would rise when others sleep. If God allowed me one more piece of life, I would dress simpler, would wallow in the sunlight, leaving uncovered, not only my body but also my soul. I would prove to men how wrong they are to think that they stop falling in love as they get older, since they actually start getting older as soon as they stop falling in love. I would give wings to the children, but I would leave the children alone so that he could learn how to fly on his own. To the old, I would show them how death comes not with the ageing process but with forgetting So many things I have learned from you…. I have learned that everybody wants to live at the top of the mountain, forgetting that is how we climb is all that matters. I have learned that when a newborn grabs his father’s thumb, he takes a hold on him forever. I have learned that a man has the right to look down on somebody, only when he is helping him to get up. So many things I have learned from all of you. Always tell, what you feel and do what you think. If I knew that today it would be the last time that I will see you, I will embrace you strongly to be the guardian of your soul. If I would know that these would be the last minutes that I will see you, I would say to you “I love you” and wouldn´t assume that you would know it. There is always morning where life gives us another opportunity to make things good. Keep always close to you, your dear ones, and tell them how much you need them and love and take care of them. Take time to say, “I am sorry”, “forgive me”, “please,” “ thank you” and all the nice and lovely words you know. Nobody would remember you if you keep your thoughts secret. Force yourself to express them. Show your friends and dear ones how much you care about them
Mahatma Gandhi's writings
I can be good, bad, traitors, loyal; I can be Angel-tempered or evil-tempered, I can love you or hate you, I can make silent, maybe I'm ignorant or wise! Because I am a human, and these are human's traits, and you, Remember: I'm not something that you want, I built myself by myself, someone else should build you, and remember: What thing that I built for myself is my aspirations, what thing that you would build from me are your wishes or your shortages! People' aptitudes determine their life quality, not their ambitions! And I'm not committed to something that I want you, and also you could select that maybe you want me or not, but you can not choose what things you want from me. You just can like me in the same way that I am and I can too. You can hate me without any reason and I can too, because we are both humans, and this world is full of humans, so this world could own new feeling at every moment. You can not judge me and issued judicial warrant for me and neither I. Sentencing judge is related to beyond forces of God. My all friends find me in this manner and eulogize me. Envious still hate me but they admire me too, enemies decide to expunge me but they still esteem me, because if I wasn't praiseworthy, I have not any friend, no jealous, no enemy and not even a competitor, I am laudable and so you are. Remember, if you have viewed this post keep in your mind that those who you see them every day and are in contact with them, all are humans and feature humans with a different masks, but all could make mistakes! Call your self an "intelligent" person if you could recognize people behind their masks, and this is not a very comfortable job!
Fruits of the earth
(By Andre Gide)
"Why have you not understood that all happiness is a chance encounter and that every moment presents itself to you like a beggar by the roadside?" "Your dream of tomorrow is a delight, but the delight of tomorrow is another" "Never prepare your joys" Everything comes at its own hour, Nathaniel; everything is born of its need and is merely, so to speak, the outward expression of a need. "I needed lungs", said the tree, "and my sap turned to leaves so that I might breathe. Then when I had breathed, my leaves fell and I did not die. My fruit contains all my thoughts life." Don't be afraid, Nathaniel, that I shall overdo this form of apologue, for I don't much approve of it. The only wisdom I want to teach you is life. For thinking is a heavy burden. I exhausted myself when I was young by following the results of actions as far as I could into the future, and I was never sure of not sinning save by not acting. Then I wrote: "I owed the health of my body to the irremediable poisoning of my soul." Then I ceased to understand what I have meant by this. Nathaniel, I no longer believe in sin. Nathaniel, I must speak to you of moments. Do you realize the power of their presence? A not sufficiently constant thought of death has given an insufficient value to the tiniest moment of your life. Don't you understand that the moment would not take on such incomparable vividness, if it were not thrown up, so to speak, on the dark background of death? I should make no further attempt to do anything at all, if I were told, if it were proved to me that I had unlimited time to do it in. I should begin by resting from the effort of making up my mind to do something, if I had time enough to do everything else as well. I should always do no matter what, if I did not know there was an end to this form of life " and that when I have lived it out, I shall rest in a sleep a little deeper, a little more forgetful than the one I look forward to every night"
The Raven
(By Edgar Allan Poe, first published in 1845)
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, while I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door."Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door; Only this, and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, and each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow from my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore, for the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore, Nameless here forevermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, "This some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door, Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door. Tis it is, and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, and so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, that I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door; Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, and the only word there spoken was the whispered word, Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before, "Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice. Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore. Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore. " 'Tis the wind, and nothing more." Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, in there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door. Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door, Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, by the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven, ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore. Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore." Quoth the raven, "Nevermore." Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door, Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, with such name as "Nevermore." But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only that one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered; Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before; On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before. "Then the bird said, "Nevermore." Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore, till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of "Never---nevermore. "But the raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore, what this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore meant in croaking, "Nevermore. "Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing to the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining on the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er, but whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!" Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!" "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil! Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-- On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore: Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!" Quoth the raven, "Nevermore." "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil! By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore-- Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore. Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore? Quoth the raven, "Nevermore." "Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!" Quoth the raven, "Nevermore." And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming. And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor shall be lifted nevermore!
Daffodils
(By William Word worth)
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of the bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed --- and gazed --- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.