Writer of Home Alone Dead

I read a blog tribute about John Hughes who died on Augest 6 . I know John Hughes only as writer of most successful film Home Alone. I came to know he has also written the screenplay for Baby’s Day Out. Indian Kids hugely liked both the films. My children thoroughly enjoyed the film when they were kids. I don’t have much knowledge about other films directed by him.

A Blogger has written her experience as a pen pal of him. It’s touching and brings about the human side of the director much above the glamorous side.

Things going to be obsolete soon

I read an interesting list about 100 things your kids don’t know about in future. Most of the things have not yet become vanished. But would definitely in future. Already in India Camera film rolls disappeared in photo Studios. VHS have completely disappeared. AUDIO Cassettes slowly disappear. If you go to Music World stores only very few cassettes are on display. Among the youngsters email became popular form of correspondences. Most of the things mentioned in the list would surly disappear even in India.

Quotations

Don't let the fear of the time it will take to accomplish something stand in the way of your doing it. The time will pass anyway; we might just as well put that passing time to the best possible use. – Earl Nightingale

Happiness is that state of consciousness which proceeds from the achievement of one’s values. Learn to value yourself, which means: to fight for your happiness. – Ayn Rand

The only difference between where you are today, and where you'll be a year from today, are the books you read and the people you meet. – Charlie ‘Tremendous’ Jones

A very important aspect of motivation is the willingness to stop and look at things that no one else has bothered to look at. The simple process of focusing on things normally taken for granted is a powerful source of creativity. – Edward de Bono

You can make more friends in two
months by becoming interested in other
people than you can in two years by
trying to get other people
interested in you. – Dale Carnegie

If your imagination leads you to understand how quickly people grant your requests when those requests appeal to their self-interest, you can have practically anything you go after. – Napoleon Hill

You know you're in love when you can't
fall asleep because reality is finally
better than your dreams. – Dr. Seuss

The Beauty and the Ugly

When I read William words worth’s poem A Few Lines Written On West Minister Bridge I stumbled upon a beautiful but dark poem by William Blake on London.

Wordsworth poem was written about the beauty of the morning of London city viewed from the Bridge. It was written on the year 1802.

Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

But another poem written 10 years earlier caught me completely off balance. The dark descriptions of chimney sweeping boy, pathetic state of common soldiers serving the king and apocalyptic woes of harlot women who pass on their curse(venereal decease) to next generations spoke volumes about conditions prevailed upon the society then. It gave a different picture from that of words worth ‘s London.



I wander thro’ each charter’d street,
Near where the charter’d Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every Man,
In every Infant’s cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg’d manacles I hear.

How the Chimney-sweeper’s cry
Every black'ning Church appalls;
And the hapless Soldier’s sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls.

But most thro’ midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlot’s curse
Blasts the new-born Infant’s tear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.

Read the Aanalysis of the poem