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“Where are the gold pieces now?” the Fairy asked.
“I lost them,” answered Pinocchio, but he told a lie, for he had them in his pocket.
As he spoke, his nose, long though it was, became at least two inches longer.
“And where did you lose them?”
“In the wood near by.”
At this second lie, his nose grew a few more inches.
“If you lost them in the near-by wood,” said the Fairy, “we’ll look for them and find them, for everything that is lost there is always found.”
“Ah, now I remember,” replied the Marionette, becoming more and more confused. “I did not lose the gold pieces, but I swallowed them when I drank the medicine.”
At this third lie, his nose became longer than ever, so long that he could not even turn around. If he turned to the right, he knocked it against the bed or into the windowpanes; if he turned to the left, he struck the walls or the door; if he raised it a bit, he almost put the Fairy’s eyes out.
The Fairy sat looking at him and laughing.
“Why do you laugh?” the Marionette asked her, worried now at the sight of his growing nose.
“I am laughing at your lies.”
“How do you know I am lying?”
“Lies, my boy, are known in a moment. There are two kinds of lies, lies with short legs and lies with long noses. Yours, just now, happen to have long noses.”
Pinocchio, not knowing where to hide his shame, tried to escape from the room, but his nose had become so long that he could not get it out of the door. - C. Collodi [Pseudonym of Carlo Lorenzini]
In der Ansicht von Crailsheim stört das "moderne" Gebäude etwas. Hier ist es mit KI ersetzt gegen eine Kirche. Ein Boot auf der Jagst wäre doch auch noch ganz schön.
20230714_selgenstadt_0325KI3 Kopie
THE EXECUTION OF WILD ROBERT.
Being a Warning to all Parents.
Wild Robert was a graceless Youth,
And bold in every sin
In early life with petty thefts,
His course he did begin.
But those who deal in lesser sins,
In great will soon offend;
And petty thefts, not check'd betimes,
In murder soon may end.
And now, like any beast of prey,
Wild Robert shrunk from view,
Save when at eve on Bagshot Heath
He met his harden'd crew.
With this fierce crew Wild Robert there
On plunder set his mind;
And watch'd and prowl'd the live-long night
To rob and slay mankind.
The last day of June, 1559, was a gala day in Paris. The marriages of Philip II of Spain with Elizabeth of France, daughter of King Henry II and Catherine de Medici, and that of the French King’s sister, Marguerite with Emanuel Philibert, duke of Savoy, were to be celebrated. But “the torches of joy became funeral tapers”[3] before nightfall, for Henry II was mortally wounded in the tournament given in honor of the occasion.[4] It was the rule that challengers, in this case the King, should run three courses and their opponents one. The third contestant of the King had been Gabriel, sieur de Lorges, better known as the count of Montgomery, captain of the Scotch Guard,[5] a young man, “grand et roidde,” whom Henry rechallenged because his pride was hurt that he had not better kept his seat in the saddle in the first running. Montgomery tried to refuse, but the King silenced his objections[2] with a command and reluctantly[6] Montgomery resumed his place. But this time the Scotch guardsman failed to cast away the trunk of the splintered lance as he should have done at the moment of the shock, and the fatal accident followed. The jagged point crashed through the King’s visor into the right eye.[7] For a minute[3] Henry reeled in his saddle, but by throwing his arms around the neck of his horse, managed to keep his seat. The King’s armor was stripped from him at once and “a splint taken out of good bigness.”[8] He moved neither hand nor foot, and lay as if benumbed or paralyzed. - James Westfall Thompson, 1909
One day the king of the bees with his followers passed by the snail’s door with a great noise. The [32]mother snail said, “I have sixteen babies asleep on a leaf, and they must sleep fifteen days before they can walk. You will surely wake them. You are the noisiest creatures that pass my door. How can my children sleep? Yesterday your family and a crowd of your silly followers were here and made a great noise, and now to-day you come again. If I lose one baby because of all this, I will go to your house and destroy it. Then you will have no place to live. Do you know that this tree belongs to me? My master planted it twenty years ago, that I and my children might feed on its fruit. Every year your people come here when my tree has flowers upon it and take the honey away from them; and you not only rob me, but while you are doing it, you make loud and foolish noises. If you do not go away, I will call my master and my people.”
The king bee answered, “You have no master in the world. You came from the dirt. Your ancestors all died in the wilderness and nobody even cared, because you are of no use to the world. Our name is Fon (Bee). People like us and they grow fat from our honey, which is better than medicine. My people [33]live in all parts of the world. All mankind likes us and feeds us flowers. Do you think you are better than man?
“One day a bad boy tried to spoil our house, but his mother said, ‘You spoil many things, but you shall not trouble the bees. They work hard every day and make honey for us. If you kill one bee-mother, her children will all leave us and in winter we shall have no honey for our bread.’ And the boy obeyed. He might catch birds and goldfish, destroy flowers, do anything he wished, but he could not trouble us, because we are so useful. But you, slow creeper, are not good for anything.”
Then the snail was angry and went to her house and said to her family, “The bees are our enemies. In fifteen days, five of you must go to their house and destroy it.” Chinese fables and folk stories
THERE was once an old man, very poor, with three sons. They lived chiefly by ferrying people over a river; but he had had nothing but ill-luck all his life. And to crown all, on the night he died, there was a great storm, and in it the crazy old ferry-boat, on which his sons depended for a living, was sunk.
As they were lamenting both their father and their poverty, an old man came by, and learning the reason of their sorrow said:
"Never mind; all will come right in time. Look! there is your boat as good as new."
And there was a fine new ferry-boat on the water, in place of the old one, and a number of people waiting to be ferried over.
The three brothers arranged to take turns with the boat, and divide the fares they took.
They were however very different in disposition. The two elder brothers were greedy and avaricious, and would[54] never take anyone over the river, without being handsomely paid for it.
But the youngest brother took over poor people, who had no money, for nothing; and moreover frequently relieved their wants out of his own pocket.
One day, at sunset, when the eldest brother was at the ferry the same old man, who had visited them on the night their father died, came, and asked for a passage.
"I have nothing to pay you with, but this empty purse," he said.
"Go and get something to put in it then first," replied the ferry-man; "and be off with you now!"
Next day it was the second brother's turn; and the same old man came, and offered his empty purse as his fare. But he met with a like reply.
The third day it was the youngest brother's turn; and when the old man arrived, and asked to be ferried over for charity, he answered:
"Yes, get in, old man."
"And what is the fare?" asked the old man.
"That depends upon whether you can pay or not," was the reply; "but if you cannot, it is all the same to me."
"A good deed is never without its reward," said the old man: "but in the meantime take this empty purse; though[55] it is very worn, and looks worth nothing. But if you shake it, and say:
'For his sake who gave it, this purse I hold,
I wish may always be full of gold;'
it will always afford you as much gold as you wish for." Polish Fairy Tale
I sprang to my feet, my inert hand grasping my pistol, my mind paralyzed by the dreadful shape which had sprung out upon us from the shadows of the fog. A hound it was, an enormous coal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen. Fire burst from its open mouth, its eyes glowed with a smouldering glare, its muzzle and hackles and dewlap were outlined in flickering flame. Never in the delirious dream of a disordered brain could anything more savage, more appalling, more hellish be conceived than that dark form and savage face which broke upon us out of the wall of fog.
With long bounds the huge black creature was leaping down the track, following hard upon the footsteps of our friend. So paralyzed were we by the apparition that we allowed him to pass before we had recovered our nerve. Then Holmes and I both fired together, and the creature gave a hideous howl, which showed that one at least had hit him. He did not pause, however, but bounded onward. Far away on the path we saw Sir Henry looking back, his face white in the moonlight, his hands raised in horror, glaring helplessly at the frightful thing which was hunting him down. But that cry of pain from the hound had blown all our fears to the winds. If he was vulnerable he was mortal, and if we could wound him we could kill him. Never have I seen a man run as Holmes ran that night. I am reckoned fleet of foot, but he outpaced me as much as I outpaced the little professional. In front of us as we flew up the track we heard scream after scream from Sir Henry and the deep roar of the hound. I was in time to see the beast spring upon its victim, hurl him to the ground, and worry at his throat. But the next instant Holmes had emptied five barrels of his revolver into the creature’s flank. With a last howl of agony and a vicious snap in the air, it rolled upon its back, four feet pawing furiously, and then fell limp upon its side. I stooped, panting, and pressed my pistol to the dreadful, shimmering head, but it was useless to press the trigger. The giant hound was dead. - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
A dispute arose between the North Wind and the Sun, each claiming that he was stronger than the other. At last they agreed to try their powers upon a traveller, to see which could soonest strip him of his cloak. The North Wind had the first try; and, gathering up all his force for the attack, he came whirling furiously down upon the man, and caught up his cloak as though he would wrest it from him by one single effort: but the harder he blew, the more closely the man wrapped it round himself. Then came the turn of the Sun. At first he beamed gently upon the traveller, who soon unclasped his cloak and walked on with it hanging loosely about his shoulders: then he shone forth in his full strength, and the man, before he had gone many steps, was glad to throw his cloak right off and complete his journey more lightly clad.
Persuasion is better than force
....Ihr da oben versteht Ihr das,oder Bodenhaftung verloren....oder ist es ein Mangel an Intelligenz....viele Menschen könnten helfen.Manche geben kostenlos Nachhilfe.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=40gZO6EPMac
(Jugendprojekt)
FAUSTUS. Now that the gloomy shadow of the earth,
Longing to view Orion’s drizzling look,
Leaps from th’ antartic world unto the sky,
And dims the welkin with her pitchy breath,
Faustus, begin thine incantations,
And try if devils will obey thy hest,
Seeing thou hast pray’d and sacrific’d to them.
Within this circle is Jehovah’s name,
Forward and backward anagrammatiz’d,
Th’ abbreviated50 names of holy saints,
Figures of every adjunct to the heavens,
And characters of signs and erring51 stars,
By which the spirits are enforc’d to rise:
Then fear not, Faustus, but be resolute,
And try the uttermost magic can perform.—
Sint mihi dei Acherontis propitii! Valeat numen triplex Jehovoe!
Ignei, aerii, aquatani spiritus, salvete! Orientis princeps
Belzebub, inferni ardentis monarcha, et Demogorgon, propitiamus
vos, ut appareat et surgat Mephistophilis, quod tumeraris:
per Jehovam, Gehennam, et consecratam aquam quam nunc spargo,
signumque crucis quod nunc facio, et per vota nostra, ipse nunc
surgat nobis dicatus53 Mephistophilis!
Enter MEPHISTOPHILIS.
I charge thee to return, and change thy shape;
Thou art too ugly to attend on me:
Go, and return an old Franciscan friar;
That holy shape becomes a devil best.
[Exit MEPHISTOPHILIS.]
I see there’s virtue in my heavenly words:
Who would not be proficient in this art?
How pliant is this Mephistophilis,
Full of obedience and humility!
Such is the force of magic and my spells:
No, Faustus, thou art conjuror laureat,
That canst command great Mephistophilis:
Quin regis Mephistophilis fratris imagine.
Re-enter MEPHISTOPHILIS like a Franciscan friar. - Christopher Marlowe
In the course of my tramping I encountered hundreds of hoboes, whom I hailed or who hailed me, and with whom I waited at water-tanks, "boiled-up," cooked "mulligans," "battered" the "drag" or "privates," and beat trains, and who passed and were seen never again. On the other hand, there were hoboes who passed and repassed with amazing frequency, and others, still, who passed like ghosts, close at hand, unseen, and never seen.
It was one of the latter that I chased clear across Canada over three thousand miles of railroad, and never once did I lay eyes on him. His "monica" was Skysail Jack. I first ran into it at Montreal. Carved with a jack-knife was the skysail-yard of a ship. It was perfectly executed. Under it was "Skysail Jack." Above was "B.W. 9-15-94." This latter conveyed the information that he had passed through Montreal bound west, on October 15, 1894. He had one day the start of me. "Sailor Jack" was my monica at that particular time, and promptly I carved it alongside of his, along with the date and the information that I, too, was bound west.
I had misfortune in getting over the next hundred miles, and eight days later I picked up Skysail Jack's trail three hundred miles west of Ottawa. There it was, carved on a water-tank, and by the date I saw that he likewise had met with delay. He was only two days ahead of me. I was a "comet" and "tramp-royal," so was Skysail Jack; and it was up to my pride and reputation to catch up with him. I "railroaded" day and night, and I passed him; then turn about he passed me. Sometimes he was a day or so ahead, and sometimes I was. From hoboes, bound east, I got word of him occasionally, when he happened to be ahead; and from them I learned that he had become interested in Sailor Jack and was making inquiries about me. - Jack London, 1907
So please call my missus, gotta tell her not to cry
'Cause my goodbye is written by the moon in the sky
Hey, and nobody knows me, I can't fathom my staying
And shiver me timbers 'cause I'm a-sailing away
And the fog's lifting, the sand's shifting, I'm drifting on out
And old Captain Ahab, he ain't got nothing on me
So come on and swallow me, follow me, I'm traveling alone
Blue water is my daughter, I'm gonna skip like a stone
And I'm leaving my family, I'm leaving all my friends
My body's at home, but my heart's in the wind
Where the clouds are like headlines upon a new front page sky
And shiver me timbers 'cause I'm a-sailing away - Tom Waits
One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with
the Lord. Scenes from my life flashed across the sky. In
each, I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were
two sets of footprints; other times there was only one.
During the low periods of my life I could see only one set of
footprints, so I said, "You promised me, Lord, that you would
walk with me always. Why, when I have needed you most,
have you not been there for me?"
The Lord replied, "The times when you have seen only one set
of footprints, my child, is when I carried you." - Mary Stevenson
O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.
So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile. - Robert Burns