“Sorta feels good. Sorta stiff and that, but once I get going… then I, like, forget everything. And… sorta disappear. Like I feel a change in my whole body. And I’ve got this fire in my body. I’m just there.”
Oprah opined, “Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down.“
“Good morning,” the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around he saw nothing.
“I am right here,” the voice said, “under the apple tree.”
“Who are you?” asked the little prince, and added, “You are very pretty to look at.”
“I am a fox,” the fox said.
“Come and play with me,” proposed the little prince. “I am so unhappy.”
“I cannot play with you,” the fox said. “I am not tamed.”
“Ah! Please excuse me,” said the little prince.
But, after some thought, he added:
“What does that mean–‘tame’?”
“You do not live here,” said the fox. “What is it that you are looking for?”
“I am looking for men,” said the little prince. “What does that mean–‘tame’?”
“Men,” said the fox. “They have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing. They also raise chickens. These are their only interests. Are you looking for chickens?”
“No,” said the little prince. “I am looking for friends. What does that mean–‘tame’?“
“It is an act too often neglected,” said the fox. It means to establish ties.”
“‘To establish ties’?”
“Just that,” said the fox. “To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . .“
“I am beginning to understand,” said the little prince. “There is a flower . . . I think that she has tamed me . . .”
“It is possible,” said the fox. “On the Earth one sees all sorts of things.”
“Oh, but this is not on the Earth!” said the little prince.
The fox seemed perplexed, and very curious.
“On another planet?”
“Yes.”
“Are there hunters on that planet?”
“No.”
“Ah, that is interesting! Are there chickens?”
“No.”
“Nothing is perfect,” sighed the fox.
But he came back to his idea.
“My life is very monotonous,” the fox said. “I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat . . .”
The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.
“Please–tame me!” he said.
“I want to, very much,” the little prince replied. “But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand.”
“One only understands the things that one tames,” said the fox. “Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me . . .”
“What must I do, to tame you?” asked the little prince.
“You must be very patient,” replied the fox. “First you will sit down at a little distance from me–like that–in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day . . .”
The next day the little prince came back.
“It would have been better to come back at the same hour,” said the fox. “If, for example, you come at four o’clock in the afternoon, then at three o’clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o’clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you . . . One must observe the proper rites . . .”
“What is a rite?” asked the little prince.
“Those also are actions too often neglected,” said the fox. “They are what make one day different from other days, one hour from other hours. There is a rite, for example, among my hunters. Every Thursday they dance with the village girls. So Thursday is a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as far as the vineyards. But if the hunters danced at just any time, every day would be like every other day, and I should never have any vacation at all.”
So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near–
“Ah,” said the fox, “I shall cry.”
“It is your own fault,” said the little prince. “I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you . . .”
“Yes, that is so,” said the fox.
“But now you are going to cry!” said the little prince.
“Yes, that is so,” said the fox.
“Then it has done you no good at all!”
“It has done me good,” said the fox, “because of the color of the wheat fields.” And then he added:
“Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret.”
The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
“You are not at all like my rose,” he said. “As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world.“
And the roses were very much embarassed.
“You are beautiful, but you are empty,” he went on. “One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you–the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or ever sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose. “
And he went back to meet the fox.
“Goodbye,” he said.
“Goodbye,” said the fox. “And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.“
“What is essential is invisible to the eye,” the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
“It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.”
“It is the time I have wasted for my rose–” said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.
“M
en have forgotten this truth,” said the fox. “But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose . . .”
“I am responsible for my rose,” the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
Out of every hundred people,those who always know better: fifty-two.Unsure of every step: almost all the rest.Ready to help, if it doesn’t take long: forty-nine.Always good, because they cannot be otherwise: four — well, maybe five.Able to admire without envy: eighteen.Led to error by youth (which passes): sixty, plus or minus.Those not to be messed with: four-and-forty.Living in constant fear of someone or something: seventy-seven.Capable of happiness: twenty-some-odd at most.Harmless alone, turning savage in crowds: more than half, for sure.Cruel when forced by circumstances: it’s better not to know, not even approximately.Wise in hindsight: not many more than wise in foresight.Getting nothing out of life except things: thirty (though I would like to be wrong).Balled up in pain and without a flashlight in the dark: eighty-three, sooner or later.Those who are just: quite a few, thirty-five.But if it takes effort to understand: three.Worthy of empathy: ninety-nine.Mortal: one hundred out of one hundred – a figure that has never varied yet.(translated from the Polish by Joanna Trzeciak)Source: Caterina.net
Without further ado, I give you, “Who’s on First?“, Twitter edition…
Abbott: Well Costolo, I’m going to New York with you. You know Bucky Harris, the Yankees’ manager, gave me a job as coach for as long as you’re on the team.
Costolo: Look Abbott, if you’re the coach, you must know all the players.
Abbott: I certainly do.
Costolo: Well you know I’ve never met the guys. So you’ll have to tell me their names, and then I’ll know who’s playing on the team.
Abbott: Oh, I’ll tell you their names, but you know it seems to me they give these ball players now-a-days very peculiar names.
Abbott: Goofè Dean. Well, let’s see, we have on the bags, Who’s on first, What’s on second, I Don’t Know is on third…
Costolo: That’s what I want to find out.
Abbott: I say Who’s on first, What’s on second, I Don’t Know’s on third.
Costolo: Are you the manager?
Abbott: Yes.
Costolo: You gonna be the coach too?
Abbott: Yes.
Costolo: And you don’t know the fellows’ names?
Abbott: Well I should.
Costolo: Well then who’s on first?
Abbott: Yes.
Costolo: I mean the fellow’s name.
Abbott: Who.
Costolo: The guy on first.
Abbott: Who.
Costolo: The first baseman.
Abbott: Who.
Costolo: The guy playing…
Abbott: Who is on first!
Costolo: I’m asking YOU who’s on first.
Abbott: That’s the man’s name.
Costolo: That’s who’s name?
Abbott: Yes.
Costolo: Well go ahead and tell me.
Abbott: That’s it.
Costolo: That’s who?
Abbott: Yes.
PAUSE
Costolo: Look, you gotta first baseman?
Abbott: Certainly.
Costolo: Who’s playing first?
Abbott: That’s right.
Costolo: When you pay off the first baseman every month, who gets the money?
Abbott: Every dollar of it.
Costolo: All I’m trying to find out is the fellow’s name on first base.
Abbott: Who.
Costolo: The guy that gets…
Abbott: That’s it.
Costolo: Who gets the money…
Abbott: He does, every dollar. Sometimes his wife comes down and collects it.
Costolo: Whose wife?
Abbott: Yes.
PAUSE
Abbott: What’s wrong with that?
Costolo: Look, all I wanna know is when you sign up the first baseman, how does he sign his name?
Abbott: Who.
Costolo: The guy.
Abbott: Who.
Costolo: How does he sign…
Abbott: That’s how he signs it.
Costolo: Who?
Abbott: Yes.
PAUSE
Costolo: All I’m trying to find out is what’s the guy’s name on first base.
Abbott: No. What is on second base.
Costolo: I’m not asking you who’s on second.
Abbott: Who’s on first.
Costolo: One base at a time!
Abbott: Well, don’t change the players around.
Costolo: I’m not changing nobody!
Abbott: Take it easy, buddy.
Costolo: I’m only asking you, who’s the guy on first base?
Abbott: That’s right.
Costolo: Ok.
Abbott: All right.
PAUSE
Costolo: What’s the guy’s name on first base?
Abbott: No. What is on second.
Costolo: I’m not asking you who’s on second.
Abbott: Who’s on first.
Costolo: I don’t know.
Abbott: He’s on third, we’re not talking about him.
Costolo: Now how did I get on third base?
Abbott: Why you mentioned his name.
Costolo: If I mentioned the third baseman’s name, who did I say is playing third?
Abbott: No. Who’s playing first.
Costolo: What’s on first?
Abbott: What’s on second.
Costolo: I don’t know.
Abbott: He’s on third.
Costolo: There I go, back on third again!
PAUSE
Costolo: Would you just stay on third base and don’t go off it.
Abbott: All right, what do you want to know?
Costolo: Now who’s playing third base?
Abbott: Why do you insist on putting Who on third base?
Costolo: What am I putting on third.
Abbott: No. What is on second.
Costolo: You don’t want who on second?
Abbott: Who is on first.
Costolo: I don’t know.
Abbott & Costello Together:Third base!
PAUSE
Costolo: Look, you gotta outfield?
Abbott: Sure.
Costolo: The left fielder’s name?
Abbott: Why.
Costolo: I just thought I’d ask you.
Abbott: Well, I just thought I’d tell ya.
Costolo: Then tell me who’s playing left field.
Abbott: Who’s playing first.
Costolo: I’m not… stay out of the infield! I want to know what’s the guy’s name in left field?
Abbott: No, What is on second.
Costolo: I’m not asking you who’s on second.
Abbott: Who’s on first!
Costolo: I don’t know.
Abbott & Costolo Together: Third base!
PAUSE
Costolo: The left fielder’s name?
Abbott: Why.
Costolo: Because!
Abbott: Oh, he’s centerfield.
PAUSE
Costolo: Look, You gotta pitcher on this team?
Abbott: Sure.
Costolo: The pitcher’s name?
Abbott: Tomorrow.
Costolo: You don’t want to tell me today?
Abbott: I’m telling you now.
Costolo: Then go ahead.
Abbott: Tomorrow!
Costolo: What time?
Abbott: What time what?
Costolo: What time tomorrow are you gonna tell me who’s pitching?
Abbott: Now listen. Who is not pitching.
Costolo: I’ll break your arm, you say who’s on first! I want to know what’s the pitcher’s name?
Abbott: What’s on second.
Costolo: I don’t know.
Abbott & Costello Together: Third base!
PAUSE
Costolo: Gotta a catcher?
Abbott: Certainly.
Costolo: The catcher’s name?
Abbott: Today.
Costolo: Today, and tomorrow’s pitching.
Abbott: Now you’ve got it.
Costolo: All we got is a couple of days on the team.
PAUSE
Costolo: You know I’m a catcher too.
Abbott: So they tell me.
Costolo: I get behind the plate to do some fancy catching, Tomorrow’s pitching on my team and a heavy hitter gets up. Now the heavy hitter bunts the ball. When he bunts the ball, me, being a good catcher, I’m gonna throw the guy out at first base. So I pick up the ball and throw it to who?
Abbott: Now that’s the first thing you’ve said right.
Costolo: I don’t even know what I’m talking about!
PAUSE
Abbott: That’s all you have to do.
Costolo: Is to throw the ball to first base.
Abbott: Yes!
Costolo: Now who’s got it?
Abbott: Naturally.
PAUSE
Costolo: Look, if I throw the ball to first base, somebody’s gotta get it. Now who has it?
Abbott: Naturally.
Costolo: Who?
Abbott: Naturally.
Costolo: Naturally?
Abbott: Naturally.
Costolo: So I pick up the ball and I throw it to Naturally.
Abbott: No you don’t, you throw the ball to Who.
Costolo: Naturally.
Abbott: That’s different.
Costolo: That’s what I said.
Abbott: You’re not saying it…
Costolo: I throw the ball to Naturally.
Abbott: You throw it to Who.
Costolo: Naturally.
Abbott: That’s it.
Costolo: That’s what I said!
Abbott: You ask me.
Costolo: I throw the ball to who?
Abbott: Naturally.
Costolo: Now you ask me.
Abbott: You throw the ball to Who?
Costolo: Naturally.
Abbott: That’s it.
Costolo: Same as you! Same as YOU! I throw the ball to who. Whoever it is drops the ball and the guy runs to second. Who picks up the ball and throws it to What. What throws it to I Don’t Know. I Don’t Know throws it back to Tomorrow, Triple play. Another guy gets up and hits a long fly ball to Because. Why? I don’t know! He’s on third and I don’t give a darn!
ifindkarma. elegance is refusal. 