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How reckless is Nature in the distribution of her gifts! Options
Posted: Sunday, September 17, 2017 12:00:00 AM
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How reckless is Nature in the distribution of her gifts!

P. G. Wodehouse (1881-1975)
Posted: Sunday, September 17, 2017 2:49:12 AM

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Joy in looking and comprehending is nature's most beautiful gift.

Albert Einstein
Posted: Sunday, September 17, 2017 3:47:34 AM

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That is a pure notion of human. Nature does not require any comments from human. Nature is nature itself.
raghd muhi al-deen
Posted: Sunday, September 17, 2017 10:44:48 AM

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. G. Wodehouse
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Wodehouse, P. G. (Sir Pelham Grenville Wodehouse) (wo͝od`hous'), 1881–1975, English-American novelist and humorist. After a short period, first working at a bank and then writing for a London newspaper, he became a full-time fiction writer. For over 70 years Wodehouse entertained readers with his comic novels and stories set in an England that is forever Edwardian and peopled with idiotic youths, feckless debutantes, redoubtable aunts, and stuffy businessmen. He was most famous for his many novels about the rich and hapless Bertie Wooster and his unflappable valet Jeeves. The "Jeeves" novels include The Inimitable Jeeves (1924), Bertie Wooster Sees It Through (1955), and Much Obliged, Jeeves (1971). Early in his career, Wodehouse was also a lyricist, writing some 400 songs, more than half of them in collaboration with Jerome Kern

, and contributing to the books of several musicals by other composers, including Cole Porter

's Anything Goes (1934). In all, over a period of eight decades, he wrote 96 novels, 18 plays, and lyrics for 33 musicals. In 1941, while he was a prisoner of the Germans, he made five nonpolitical broadcasts for his captors, provoking considerable criticism at home. Wodehouse, who from 1910 on had lived for long periods in the United States or France, immigrated to the United States in 1947, settled on Long Island, N.Y., and became an American citizen in 1955. He was knighted shortly before his death in 1975.

See his autobiographical Author! Author! (1962; originally pub. as Performing Flea, 1953) and his Over Seventy (1957); F. Donaldson, ed., Yours, Plum: The Letters of P. G. Wodehouse (1990) and S. Ratcliffe, ed., P. G. Wodehouse: A Life in Letters (2012); B. Day and P. Ring, ed., P. G. Wodehouse in His Own Words (2001, repr. 2012); biographies by D. A. Jasen (1974), B. Green (1981), F. L. Donaldson (1982), and R. McCrum (2004); studies by R. A. Usborne (1961), R. B. D. French (1966), R. A. Hall, Jr. (1974), O. D. Edwards (1977), and B. Taves (2006).
The Columbia Electronic Encyclopedia™ Copyright © 2013, Columbia University Press. Licensed from Columbia University Press. All rights reserved.

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with my pleasure
Posted: Sunday, September 17, 2017 10:46:12 AM
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Daemon wrote:
How reckless is Nature in the distribution of her gifts!

P. G. Wodehouse (1881-1975)

Nature distributes not only gifts...
Posted: Sunday, September 17, 2017 12:54:59 PM

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Location: Bogotá, Bogota D.C., Colombia


There were three distinct stages in the evolution of Annette Brougham's attitude towards the knocking in the room above. In the beginning it had been merely a vague discomfort. Absorbed in the composition of her waltz, she had heard it almost subconsciously. The second stage set in when it became a physical pain like red-hot pincers wrenching her mind from her music. Finally, with a thrill in indignation, she knew it for what it was--an insult. The unseen brute disliked her playing, and was intimating his views with a boot-heel.

Defiantly, with her foot on the loud pedal, she struck--almost slapped--the keys once more.

'Bang!' from the room above. 'Bang! Bang!'

Annette rose. Her face was pink, her chin tilted. Her eyes sparkled with the light of battle. She left the room and started to mount the stairs. No spectator, however just, could have helped feeling a pang of pity for the wretched man who stood unconscious of imminent doom, possibly even triumphant, behind the door at which she was on the point of tapping.

'Come in!' cried the voice, rather a pleasant voice; but what is a pleasant voice if the soul be vile?

Annette went in. The room was a typical Chelsea studio, scantily furnished and lacking a carpet. In the centre was an easel, behind which were visible a pair of trousered legs. A cloud of grey smoke was curling up over the top of the easel.

'I beg your pardon,' began Annette.

'I don't want any models at present,' said the Brute. 'Leave your card on the table.'

'I am not a model,' said Annette, coldly. 'I merely came--'

At this the Brute emerged from his fortifications and, removing his pipe from his mouth, jerked his chair out into the open.

'I beg your pardon,' he said. 'Won't you sit down?'

How reckless is Nature in the distribution of her gifts! Not only had this black-hearted knocker on floors a pleasant voice, but, in addition, a pleasing exterior. He was slightly dishevelled at the moment, and his hair stood up in a disordered mop; but in spite of these drawbacks, he was quite passably good-looking. Annette admitted this. Though wrathful, she was fair.

'I thought it was another model,' he explained. 'They've been coming in at the rate of ten an hour ever since I settled here. I didn't object at first, but after about the eightieth child of sunny Italy had shown up it began to get on my nerves.'

Annette waited coldly till he had finished.

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Posted: Sunday, September 17, 2017 6:05:08 PM
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How reckless is Nature in the distribution of her gifts!

Trying to understand nature and how it works exemplifies what mankind is all about.
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