The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house All that cold, cold, wet day.
I sat there with Sally. We sat there, we two. And I said, "How I wish We had something to do!"
Too wet to go out And too cold to play ball. So we sat in the house. We did nothing at all.
So all we could do was to Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit! And we did not like it. Not one little bit.
BUMP! And then something went BUMP! How that bump made us jump!
We looked! Then we saw him step in on the mat! We looked! And we saw him! The Cat in the Hat! And he said to us, "Why do you sit there like that?" "I know it is wet And the sun is not sunny. But we can have Lots of good fun that is funny!"
"I know some good games we could play," Said the cat. "I know some new tricks," Said the Cat in the Hat. "A lot of good tricks. I will show them to you. Your mother Will not mind at all if I do."
Then Sally and I Did not know what to say. Our mother was out of the house For the day.
But our fish said, "No! No! Make that cat go away! Tell that Cat in the Hat You do NOT want to play. He should not be here. He should not be about. He should not be here When your mother is out!"
"Now! Now! Have no fear. Have no fear!" said the cat. "My tricks are not bad," Said the Cat in the Hat. "Why, we can have Lots of good fun, if you wish, with a game that I call UP-UP-UP with a fish!"
"Put me down!" said the fish. "This is no fun at all! Put me down!" said the fish. "I do NOT wish to fall!"
"Have no fear!" said the cat. "I will not let you fall. I will hold you up high As I stand on a ball. With a book on one hand! And a cup on my hat! But that is not ALL I can do!" Said the cat...
"Look at me! Look at me now!" said the cat. "With a cup and a cake On the top of my hat! I can hold up TWO books! I can hold up the fish! And a little toy ship! And some milk on a dish! And look! I can hop up and down on the ball! But that is not all! Oh, no. That is not all...
"Look at me! Look at me! Look at me NOW! It is fun to have fun But you have to know how. I can hold up the cup And the milk and the cake! I can hold up these books! And the fish on a rake! I can hold the toy ship And a little toy man! And look! With my tail I can hold a red fan! I can fan with the fan As I hop on the ball! But that is not all. Oh, no. That is not all...."
That is what the cat said... Then he fell on his head! He came down with a bump From up there on the ball. And Sally and I, We saw ALL the things fall!
And our fish came down, too. He fell into a pot! He said, "Do I like this?" Oh, no! I do not. This is not a good game," Said our fish as he lit. "No, I do not like it, Not one little bit!"
"Now look what you did!" Said the fish to the cat. "Now look at this house! Look at this! Look at that! You sank our toy ship, Sank it deep in the cake. You shook up our house And you bent our new rake. You SHOULD NOT be here When our mother is not. You get out of this house!" Said the fish in the pot.
"But I like to be here. Oh, I like it a lot!" Said the Cat in the Hat To the fish in the pot. "I will NOT go away. I do NOT wish to go! And so," said the Cat in the Hat, "So so so... I will show you Another good game that I know!"
And then he ran out. And then, fast as a fox, The Cat in the Hat Came back in with a box. A big red wood box. It was shut with a hook. "Now look at this trick," Said the cat. "Take a look!"
Then he got up on top With a tip of his hat. "I call this game FUN-IN-A-BOX," Said the cat. "In this box are two things I will show to you now. You will like these two things," Said the cat with a bow.
"I will pick up the hook. You will see something new. Two things. And I call them Thing One and Thing Two. These Things will not bite you. They want to have fun." Then, out of the box Came Thing Two and Thing One! And they ran to us fast. They said, "How do you do? Would you like to shake hands With Thing One and Thing Two?"
And Sally and I Did not know what to do. So we had to shake hands With Thing One and Thing Two. We shook their two hands. But our fish said, "No! No! Those Things should not be In this house! Make them go! "They should not be here When your mother is not! Put them out! Put themout!" Said the fish in the pot.
"Have no fear, little fish," Said the Cat in the Hat. "These Things are good Things." And he gave them a pat. "They are tame. Oh, so tame! They have come here to play. They will give you some fun On this wet, wet, wet day."
"Now, here is a game that they like," Said the cat. "They like to fly kites," Said the Cat in the Hat.
"No! Not in the house!" Said the fish in the pot. "They should not fly kites In a house! They should not. Oh, the things they will bump! Oh, the things they will hit! Oh, I do not like it! Not one little bit!"
Then Sally and I Saw them run down the hall. We saw those two Things Bump their kites on the wall! Bump! Thump! Thump! Bump! Down the wall in the hall.
Thing Two and Thing One! They ran up! They ran down! On the string of one kite We saw Mother's new gown! Her gown with the dots That are pink, white and red. Then we saw one kite bump On the head of her bed!
Then those Things ran about With big bumps, jumps and kicks And with hops and big thumps And all kinds of bad tricks. And I said, "I do NOT like the way that they play If Mother could see this, Oh, what would she say!"
Then our fish said, "Look! Look!" And our fish shook with fear. "Your mother is on her way home! Do you hear? Oh, what will she do to us? What will she say? Oh, she will not like it To find us this way!"
"So, DO something! Fast!" said the fish. "Do you hear! I saw her. Your mother! Your mother is near! So, as fast as you can, Think of something to do! You will have to get rid of Thing One and Thing Two!"
So, as fast as I could, I went after my net. And I said, "With my net I can get them I bet. I bet, with my net, I can get those Things yet!"
Then I let down my net. It came down with a PLOP! And I had them! At last! Those two Things had to stop. Then I said to the cat, "Now you do as I say. You pack up those Things And you take them away!"
"Oh dear!" said the cat, "You did not like our game... Oh dear. What a shame! What a shame! What a shame!"
Then he shut up the Things In the box with the hook. And the cat went away With a sad kind of look.
"That is good," said the fish. "He has gone away. Yes. But your mother will come. She will find this big mess! And this mess is so big And so deep and so tall, We cannot pick it up. There is no way at all!"
And THEN! Who was back in the house? Why, the cat! "Have no fear of this mess," Said the Cat in the Hat. "I always pick up all my playthings And so... I will show you a another Good trick that I know!"
Then we saw him pick up All the things that were down. He picked up the cake, And the rake, and the gown, And the milk, and the strings, And the books, and the dish, And the fan, and the cup, And the ship, and the fish. And he put them away. Then he said, "That is that." And then he was gone With a tip of his hat.
Then our mother came in And she said to us two, "Did you have any fun? Tell me. What did you do?"
And Sally and I did not know What to say. Should we tell her The things that went on there that day?
Should we tell her about it? Now, what SHOULD we do? Well... What would you do If your mother asked you?
Morrie used to be Mitch Albom's college professor. That was 20 years ago. Now, Morrie is dying and gives Mitch one final lesson: how to live.
Morrie wanted to be cremated. He had discussed it with Charlotte, and they decided it was the best way. The rabbi from Brandeis, Al Axelrad – a longtime friend whom they chose to conduct the funeral service – had come to visit Morrie, and Morrie told him of his cremation plans. “And Al?” “Yes?” “Make sure they don't overcook me.” The rabbi was stunned. But Morrie was able to joke about his body now. The closer he got to the end, the more he saw it as a mere shell, a container of the soul. It was withering to useless skin and bones anyhow, which made it easier to let go. “We are so afraid of the sight of death,” Morrie told me when I sat down. I adjusted the microphone on his collar, but it kept flopping over. Morrie coughed. He was coughing all the time now. “I read a book the other day. It said as soon as someone dies in a hospital, they pull the sheets up over their head, and they wheel the body to some chute and push it down. They can't wait to get it out of their sight. People act as it death is contagious.” I fumbled with the microphone. Morrie glanced at my hands. “It's not contagious, you know. Death is as natural as life. It's part of the deal we made.” He coughed again, and I moved back and waited, always braced for something serious. Morrie had been having bad nights lately. Frightening nights. He could sleep only a few hours at a time before violent hacking spells woke him. The nurses would come back into the bedroom, pound him on the back, try to bring up the poison. Even if they got him breathing normally again – “normally” meaning with the help of the oxygen machine – the fight left him fatigued the whole next day. The oxygen tube was up his nose now. I hated the sight of it. To me, it symbolized helplessness. I wanted to pull it out. “Last night...” Morrie said softly. Yes, last night? “... I had a terrible spell. It went on for hours. And I really wasn't sure I was going to make it. No breath. No end to the choking. At one point, I started to get dizzy... and then I felt a certain peace, I felt that I was ready to go.” His eyes widened. “Mitch, it was a most incredible feeling. The sensation of accepting what was happening, being at peace. I was thinking about a dream I had last week, where I was crossing a bridge into something unknown. Being ready to move on to whatever is next.” But you didn't. Morrie waited a moment. He shook his head slightly. “No, I didn't. But I felt that I could. Do you understand? That's what we're all looking for. A certain peace with the idea of dying. If we know, in the end, that we can ultimately have that peace with dying, then we can finally do the really hard thing.” Which is? “Make peace with living.” He asked to see the hibiscus plant on the ledge behind him. I cupped it in my hand and held it up near his eyes. He smiled. “It's natural to die,” he said again. “The fact that we make such a big hullabaloo over it all is because we don't see ourselves as part of nature.” He smiled at the plant. “We're not. Everything that gets born, dies” He looked at me. “Do you accept that?” Yes. “All right,” he whispered, “now here's the payoff. Here is how we are different from these wonderful plants and animals. As long as we can love each other, and remember the feeling of love we had, we can die without ever really going away. All the love you created is still there. You live on – in the hearts of everyone you have touched and nurtured while you were here.” His voice was raspy, which usually meant he needed to stop for a while. I placed the plant back on the ledge and went to shut off the tape recorder. This is the last sentence Morrie got out before I did: “Death ends a life, not a relationship.”
- Tuesdays with Morrie -
Eddie dies in a tragic accident, trying to save a little girl's life. He discovers that in Heaven his life is explained to him by five people that were in it. Here, he meets the 5th and last person, his late wife, that deceased at an early age, leaving Eddie devastated.
“Lost love is still love, Eddie. It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it.” “Life has to end,” she said. “Love doesn't.”
- The five people you meet in Heaven -
To Josh, sending you bigHuckleblueraspyberryhugs, to wherever you might be.
Géronte Hé bien, Scapin, comment va l'affaire de mon fils ?
Scapin Votre fils, Monsieur, est en lieu de sûreté ; mais vous courez maintenant, vous, le péril le plus grand du monde, et je voudrois pour beaucoup que vous fussiez dans votre logis.
Géronte Comment donc ?
Scapin A l'heure que je parle, on vous cherche de toutes parts pour vous tuer.
Géronte Moi ?
Géronte Et qui ?
Scapin Le frère de cette personne qu'Octave a épousée. Il croit que le dessein que vous avez de mettre votre fille à la place que tient sa soeur est ce qui pousse le plus fort à faire rompre leur mariage ; et, dans cette pensée, il a résolu hautement de décharger son désespoir sur vous et vous ôter la vie pour venger son honneur. Tous ses amis, gens d'épée comme lui, vous cherchent de tous les côtés et demandent de vos nouvelles. J'ai vu même deçà et delà des soldats de sa compagnie qui interrogent ceux qu'ils trouvent, et occupent par pelotons toutes les avenues de votre maison. De sorte que vous ne sauriez aller chez vous, vous ne sauriez faire un pas ni à droit, ni à gauche, que vous ne tombiez dans leurs mains.
Géronte Que ferai−je, mon pauvre Scapin ?
Scapin Je ne sais pas, Monsieur ; et voici une étrange affaire. Je tremble pour vous depuis les pieds jusqu'à la tête, et... Attendez. (Il se retourne, et fait semblant d'aller voir au bout du théâtre s'il n'y a personne.)
Géronte, en tremblant. Eh ?
Scapin, en revenant. Non, non, non, ce n'est rien.
Géronte Ne saurois−tu trouver quelque moyen pour me tirer de peine ?
Scapin J'en imagine bien un ; mais je courrois risque, moi, de me faire assommer.
Géronte Eh ! Scapin, montre−toi serviteur zélé : ne m'abandonne pas, je te prie.
Scapin Je le veux bien. J'ai une tendresse pour vous qui ne sauroit souffrir que je vous laisse sans secours.
Géronte Tu en seras récompensé, je t'assure ; et je te promets cet habit−ci, quand je l'aurai un peu usé.
Scapin Attendez. Voici une affaire que je me suis trouvée fort à propos pour vous sauver. Il faut que vous vous mettiez dans ce sac et que...
Géronte, croyant voir quelqu'un. Ah !
Scapin Non, non, non, non, ce n'est personne. Il faut, dis−je, que vous vous mettiez là dedans, et que vous gardiez de remuer en aucune façon. Je vous chargerai sur mon dos, comme un paquet de quelque chose, et je vous porterai ainsi au travers de vos ennemis, jusque dans votre maison, où quand nous serons une fois, nous pourrons nous barricader, et envoyer querir main−forte contre la violence.
Géronte L'invention est bonne.
Scapin La meilleure du monde. Vous allez voir. (A part.) Tu me payeras l'imposture.
Géronte Eh ?
Scapin Je dis que vos ennemis seront bien attrapés. Mettez−vous bien jusqu'au fond, et surtout prenez garde de ne vous point montrer, et de ne branler pas, quelque chose qui puisse arriver.
Géronte Laisse−moi faire. Je saurai me tenir...
Scapin Cachez−vous : voici un spadassin qui vous cherche. (En contrefaisant sa voix.) "Quoi ? jé n'aurai pas l'abantage dé tuer cé Geronte, et quelqu'un par charité né m'enseignera pas où il est ? " (A Géronte de sa voix ordinaire.) Ne branlez pas. (Reprenant son ton contrefait.) "Cadédis, jé lé trouberai, sé cachât−il au centre dé la terre." (A Géronte avec son ton naturel.) Ne vous montrez pas. (Tout le langage gascon est supposé de celui qu'il contrefait, et le reste de lui.) "Oh, l'homme au sac ! " Monsieur. "Jé té vaille un louis, et m'enseigne où put être Geronte." Vous cherchez le seigneur Géronte ? "Oui, mordi ! jé lé cherche." Et pour quelle affaire, Monsieur ? "Pour quelle affaire ? " Oui. "Jé beux, cadédis, lé faire mourir sous les coups de vaton." Oh ! Monsieur, les coups de bâton ne se donnent point à des gens comme lui, et ce n'est pas un homme à être traité de la sorte. "Qui, cé fat dé Geronte, cé maraut, cé velître ? " Le seigneur Géronte, Monsieur, n'est ni fat, ni maraud, ni belître, et vous devriez, s'il vous plaît, parler d'autre façon. "Comment, tu mé traites, à moi, avec cette hautur ? " Je défends, comme je dois, un homme d'honneur qu'on offense. "Est−ce que tu es des amis dé cé Geronte ? " Oui, Monsieur, j'en suis. "Ah ! cadédis, tu es de ses amis, à la vonne hure." (Il donne plusieurs coups de bâton sur le sac.) "Tiens. Boilà cé que jé té vaille pour lui." Ah, ah, ah ! ah, Monsieur ! Ah, ah, Monsieur ! tout beau. Ah, doucement, ah, ah, ah ! "Va, porte−lui cela de ma part. Adiusias." Ah ! diable soit le Gascon Ah ! (En se plaignant et remuant le dos, comme s'il avoit reçu les coups de bâton.)
Géronte, mettant la tête hors du sac. Ah ! Scapin, je n'en puis plus !
Scapin Ah ! Monsieur, je suis tout moulu, et les épaules me font un mal épouvantable.
Géronte Comment ? c'est sur les miennes qu'il a frappé.
Scapin Nenni, Monsieur, c'étoit sur mon dos qu'il frappoit.
Géronte Que veux−tu dire ? J'ai bien senti les coups, et les sens bien encore.
Scapin Non, vous dis−je, ce n'est que le bout du bâton qui a été jusque sur vos épaules.
Géronte Tu devois donc te retirer un peu plus loin, pour m'épargner...
Scapinlui remet la tête dans le sac. Prenez garde. En voici un autre qui a la mine d'un étranger. (Cet endroit est de même celui du Gascon, pour le changement de langage, et le jeu de théâtre.) "Parti ! moi courir comme une Basque, et moi ne pouvre point troufair de tout le jour sti tiable de Gironte ? " Cachez−vous bien. "Dites−moi un peu fous, Monsir l'homme, s'il ve plaist, fous savoir point où l'est sti Gironte que moi cherchair ? " Non, Monsieur, je ne sais point où est Géronte. "Dites−moi−le vous frenchemente, moi li fouloir pas grande chose à lui. L'est seulemente pour li donnair un petite régale sur le dos d'un douzaine de coups de bastonne, et de trois ou quatre petites coups d'épée au trafers de son poitrine." Je vous assure, Monsieur, que je ne sais pas où il est. "Il me semble que j'y foi remuair quelque chose dans sti sac." Pardonnez−moi, Monsieur. "Li est assurémente quelque histoire là tetans." Point du tout, Monsieur. "Moi l'avoir enfie de tonner ain coup d'épée dans ste sac." Ah ! Monsieur, gardez−vous−en bien. "Montre−le−moi un peu fous ce que c'estre là." Tout beau, Monsieur. "Quement ? tout beau ? " Vous n'avez que faire de vouloir voir ce que je porte. "Et moi, je le fouloir foir, moi." Vous ne le verrez point. "Ahi que de badinemente ! " Ce sont hardes qui m'appartiennent. "Montre−moi fous, te dis−je." Je n'en ferai rien. "Toi ne faire rien ? " Non. "Moi pailler de ste bastonne dessus les épaules de toi." Je me moque de cela. "Ah ! toi faire le trole." Ahi, ahi, ahi ; ah, Monsieur, ah, ah, ah, ah. "Jusqu'au refoir : l'estre là un petit leçon pour li apprendre à toi à parlair insolentemente ! " Ah ! peste soit du baragouineux ! Ah !
Géronte, sortant sa tête du sac. Ah ! je suis roué !
Scapin Ah ! je suis mort !
Géronte Pourquoi diantre faut−il qu'ils frappent sur mon dos ?
Scapin, lui remettant sa tête dans le sac. Prenez garde, voici une demi−douzaine de soldats tout ensemble. (Il contrefait plusieurs personnes ensemble.) "Allons, tâchons à trouver ce Géronte, cherchons partout. N'épargnons point nos pas. Courons toute la ville. N'oublions aucun lieu. Visitons tout. Furetons de tous les côtés. Par où irons−nous ? Tournons par là. Non, par ici. A gauche. A droit. Nenni. Si fait." Cachez−vous bien. "Ah ! camarades, voici son valet. Allons, coquin, il faut que tu nous enseignes où est ton maître." Eh ! Messieurs, ne me maltraitez point. "Allons, dis−nous où il est. Parle. Hâte−toi. Expédions. Dépêche vite. Tôt." Eh ! Messieurs, doucement. (Géronte met doucement la tête hors du sac et aperçoit la fourberie de Scapin.) "Si tu ne nous fais trouver ton maître tout à l'heure, nous allons faire pleuvoir sur toi une ondée de coups de bâton." J'aime mieux souffrir toute chose que de vous découvrir mon maître. "Nous allons t'assommer." Faites tout ce qu'il vous plaira. "Tu as envie d'être battu." Je ne trahirai point mon maître. "Ah ! tu en veux tâter ? Voilà..." Oh ! (Comme il est prêt de frapper, Géronte sort du sac, et Scapin s'enfuit).
Géronte Ah, infâme ! ah, traître ! ah, scélérat ! C'est ainsi que tu m'assassines.
To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action.
Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And Summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And oft' is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd: But thy eternal Summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.