If you love someone, set her free. She WILL come back or be shot. She WILL be yours or be shot.

If you love someone, set her free, but only if chaperoned by her parents.

If you love someone, set her free, in fact, all living creatures deserve to be free !

If you love someone, set her free. Clause 1a of Paragraph 13a-1 in the second amendment of the Matrimonial Freedom Act clearly states that...

If you love someone, set her free, if she comes back, I think we can charge her for re-installation fees and tell her that she's also going to get an upgrade.

If you love someone, set her free, she'll evolve.

If you love someone, set her free, if she loves you, the probability of her coming back is high.

If she doesn't, your relation was improbable anyway.

If you love someone, set her free, she'll be back when the cavity strikes.

If you love someone, set her free. SHE'LL BE BACK!

If you love someone, set her free. If she comes back, it's back! If she doesn't... who cares!

If you love someone, set her free. If she comes back, okay! if she doesn't, how could she!

If you love someone, let her go. If she comes back, dump her ! If she doesn't, make up bad stories about her.

If you love someone, set her free. If she ever comes back, she's yours, If she doesn't, as expected, she never was...

If you love someone, set her free. Don't worry, she will come back.

(1) If you love someone, set her free ... if she ever comes back, ask her why.

(2) If you love someone, set her free ... but get someone to follow her.

(3) If you love someone, ... are you sure you love that someone ?

If you love someone, set her free ... if she comes back, she's yours. If she doesn't, go get her.

If you love someone, set her free ... don't even wait whether she comes back, go hunt her down !

If you love someone, set her free ... if she doesn't comes back within some time forget her.

If you love someone, set her free ... If she doesn't come back, continue to wait until she comes back ...

If you love someone, set her free ... * If she comes back, and if you love her still, set her free again, repeat *

if(you->love(m_she)) m_she->free() if(m_she == NULL) m_she= new CShe;

If you love someone, set her free ? NEVER !

If you love someone, when you let her go, she'll be out to get you.

How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land ? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them ? Every part of the earth is sacred to my people... The white man's dead forget the country of their birth when they walk among the stars. Our dead never forget this beautiful earth, for it is the mother of the red man. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters; the deer, the horse, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the mountains, the body-heat of the pony, and man - all belong to the same family. So when the Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land, he asks much of us. This land is sacred to us.

The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water but the blood of our ancestors... We know that white man does not understand our ways. One portion of the land is the same to him as the next, for he is a stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs. The earth is not his brother but his enemy, and when he has conquered, he moves on. He leaves his fathers grave behind and does not care. He kidnaps the earth from his children, and does not care. His fathers grave, and his children's birthright, are forgotten. He treats his mother, the earth, and his brother, the sky, as things to be bought, plundered, sold like sheep or bright beads. His appetite will devour the earth and leave behind only a desert...

The air is precious to the red man, for all things share the same breath - the beasts, the tree, the man. The White man does not seem to notice to notice the air he breathes. Like a man dying for many days, he is numb to the stench. But if we sell you our land, you must remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also received his last sigh. And if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where even white man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow's flowers. So we will consider your offer to buy our land.

If we decide to accept, I will make one condition : The white man must treat the beasts of this land as his brothers. I am a savage and do not understand any other way. I have seen a thousand rotting buffaloes on the prairie, left by the white man who shot them from a passing train...What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, man would die from a great loneliness of spirit. For whatever happens to the beasts, soon happens to the man. All things are connected...If men spit on the ground, they spit upon themselves. This we know : The Earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth. Man did not weave the web of life; he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web he does to himself...

The whites too shall pass; perhaps sooner than all other tribes. Contaminate your bed, and you will one night suffocate in your own waste. But in your perishing you will shine brightly, fired by the strength of the God who brought you to this land and for some purpose gave you dominion over this land and over the red man. That destiny is mystery to us, for we do not understand a future when the buffalo are all slaughtered, the wild beasts are tamed, the secret corners of the forests heavy with scent of many men, and the view of the ripe hills blotted by talking wires. Where is the thicket ? Gone. Where is the eagle ? Gone. The end of living and the beginning of survival.

One picture was of a calm lake. The lake was a perfect mirror for peaceful towering mountains were all around it. Overhead was a blue sky with fluffy white clouds. All who saw this picture thought that it was a perfect picture of peace.

The other picture had mountains too. But these were rugged and bare. Above was an angry sky from which rain fell, and in which lightening played. Down the side of the mountain tumbled a foaming waterfall. This did not look peaceful at all. But when the King looked, he saw behind the waterfall a tiny bush growing in a crack in the rock. In the bush a mother bird had built her nest. There, in the midst of the rush of angry water, sat the mother bird on her nest ........... perfect peace.

Which picture do you think won the prize? The King chose the second picture.

Do you know why?

"Because," explained the King, "peace does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. Peace means to be in the midst of all those things and still be calm in your heart. That is the real meaning of peace."

I am the crystal clear river, pouring out my being to you.

I am the fresh mountain air, whispering the song of love to you.

I am the glorious full moon, with thousand arms embracing you.

I am the love unquenchable, in thousands forms I am with you.

FASCISM: You have two cows. You give the milk to the government and they sell it back to you.

NAZISM: Government shoots you and takes both your cows.

CAPITALISM: You have two cows. You milk them and pour the lot down the drain to keep the price up.

SADISM: You have two cows. You shoot them both and drown yourself in the milk.

APARTHEID: You have two cows. You give the black cow's milk to the white cow to drink and don't milk the white cow.

WELFARE STATE: You have two cows. You milk them and give them the milk to drink.

ANARCHISM: You have two cows. The cows shoot you and milk each other.

BUREAUCRACY: You have two cows. You fill in 17 forms in triplicate and you don't have time to milk them.

UNITED NATIONS: You have two cows. Russia vetoes the farmer from milking them. Britain and France veto the cows from milking the farmers. USA abstains.

The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Then it gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence. Finally the day came when the boy didn't lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper.

The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone. The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said, "You have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won't matter how many times you say "I'm sorry, the wound is still there. A verbal wound is as bad as a physical one." Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us.

Today I can complain because the weather is rainy or I can be thankfulthat the grass is getting watered for free.

Today I can feel sad that I don't have more money or I can be glad that my finances encourage me to plan my purchases wisely and guide me away from waste.

Today I can grumble about my health or I can rejoice that I am alive.

Today I can lament over all that my parents didn't give me when I was growing up or I can feel grateful that they allowed me to be born.

Today I can cry because roses have thorns or I can celebrate that thornshave roses.

Today I can mourn my lack of friends or I can excitedly embark upon aquest to discover new relationships.

Today I can whine because I have to go to work or I can shout for joybecause I have a job to do.

Today I can complain because I have to go to school or eagerly open my mind and fill it with knowledge and adventure.

Today I can dejectedly murmur because I have housework to do or I can feel honored because the Lord has provided shelter for my mind, body and soul.

Today stretches ahead of me, waiting to be shaped. And here I am, the sculptor who gets to do the shaping. What today will be like is up tome. And I shall determine what kind of day I shall have !

Each of us has such a bank. Its name is TIME. Every morning, it credits you with 86,400 seconds. Every night it writes off, as lost, whatever of this you have failed to invest to good purpose. It carries over no balance. It allows no overdraft. Each day it opens a new account for you. Each night it burns the remains of the day. If you fail to use the day's deposits, the loss is yours. There is no going back. There is no drawing against the "tomorrow". You must live in the present on today's deposits. Invest it so as to get from it the utmost in health, happiness, and success! The clock is running. Make the most of today.

To realize the value of ONE YEAR, ask a student who failed a grade.

To realize the value of ONE MONTH, ask a mother who gave birth to a premature baby.

To realize the value of ONE WEEK, ask the editor of a weekly newspaper.

To realize the value of ONE HOUR, ask the lovers who are waiting to meet.

To realize the value of ONE MINUTE, ask a person who missed the train.

To realize the value of ONE SECOND, ask a person who just avoided an accident.

To realize the value of ONE MILLISECOND, ask the person who won a silver medal in the Olympics.

Treasure every moment that you have! And treasure it more because you shared it with someone special, special enough to spend your time. And remember that time waits for no one. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is mystery. Today is a gift. That's why it's called the present!! It's National Friendship Week. Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their heart to us.

Distraught and lonely, the old man faced the upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish and sadness. The joy of the season, a season that he and his son had so looked forward to, would visit his house no longer. On Christmas morning, a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man. As he walked to the door, the masterpieces of art on the walls only reminded him that his son was not coming home. As he opened the door, he was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand. He introduced himself to the man by saying, "I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you." As the two began to talk, the soldier told of how the man's son had told everyone of his, not to mention his father's, love of fine art. "I'm an artist," said the soldier, "and I want to give you this." As the old man unwrapped the package, the paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man's son. Though the world would never consider it the work of a genius, the painting featured the young man's face in striking detail. Overcome with emotion, the man thanked the soldier, promising to hang the picture above the fireplace. A few hours later, after the soldier had departed, the old man set about his task. True to his word, the painting went above the fireplace, pushing aside thousands of dollars of paintings. Then, the man sat in his chair and spent Christmas gazing at the gift he had been given. During the days and weeks that followed, the man realized that even though his son was no longer with him, the boy's life would live on because of those he had touched. He would soon learn that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet stilled his caring heart. As the stories of his son's gallantry continued to reach him, fatherly pride and satisfaction began to ease the grief. The painting of his son soon became his most prized possession, far eclipsing any interest in the pieces for which museums around the world clamored. He told his neighbors it was the greatest gift he had ever received.

The following spring, the old man became ill and passed away. The art world was in anticipation! Unmindful of the story of the man's only son, but in his honor; those paintings would be sold at an auction. According to the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned on Christmas day, the day he had received his greatest gift. The day soon arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world's most spectacular paintings. Dreams would be fulfilled this day; greatness would be achieved as many would claim "I have the greatest collection."

The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum's list. It was the painting of the man's son. The auctioneer asked for an opening bid. The room was silent. "Who will open the bidding with $100?" he asked. Minutes passed. No one spoke. From the back of the room came, "Who cares about that painting? It's just a picture of his son. Let's forget it and go on to the good stuff." More voices echoed in agreement. "No, we have to sell this one first," replied the auctioneer. "Now, who will take the son?" Finally, a friend of the old man spoke. "Will you take ten dollars for the painting? That's all I have. I knew the boy, so I'd like to have it."I have ten dollars. Will anyone go higher?" called the auctioneer. After more silence, the auctioneer said, "Going once, going twice. Gone." The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone exclaimed, "Now we can get on with it and bid on these treasures!"

The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Someone spoke up and asked, "What do you mean it's over? We didn't come here for a picture of some old guy's son. What about all of these paintings? There are millions of dollars of art here! I demand that you explain what's going on here!"

The auctioneer replied, "It's very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son . . . gets it all."

We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time; we have more degrees, but less common sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, but more problems; more medicine, but less wellness.

We spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.

We talk too much, love too seldom and lie too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years.

We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor.

We've conquered outer space, but not inner space; we've done larger things, but not better things; we've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul; we've split the atom, but not our prejudice; we write more, but learn less; plan more, but accomplish less.

We've learned to rush, but not to wait; we have higher incomes; but lower morals; more food but less appeasement; more acquaintances, but fewer friends; more effort but less success.

We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication; we've become long on quantity, but short on quality.

These are the time of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men and short character; steep profits, and shallow relationships.

These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure and less fun; more kinds of food, but less nutrition.

These are days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but broken homes.

These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one-night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill.

It is a time when there is much in the show window, and nothing in the stockroom.

OM TAT SAT