Tanzan and Ekido were travelling together down a muddy road. A heavy rain was falling.
Coming around a bend, they met a lovely girl in a silk kimono and sash, unable to cross the intersection.
“Come on, girl,” said Tanzan at once. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her over the mud.
Ekido did not speak again until that night when they reached a lodging temple. He could no longer restrain himself. “We monks don’t go near females,” he told Tanzan, “especially not young and lovely ones. It is dangerous. Why did you do that?”
“I left the girl there,” said Tanzan. “Are you still carrying her?”
I categorically deny it
You’ve got to be kidding
In no way did I do
Whatever it is you’re accusing me of
He was there
He’ll back me up
I don’t believe this
I thought you were my friend
On my side
Through thick and thin you said
Two peas from the same pod
You know who your friends are
Who you can count on in a pinch
I might have may have
Not saying that I did
But it was so tempting
Fish in a barrel
Just sitting there, alone, forlorn
Looking sad for itself
There was no one around
Well him and he said go on
No one will know
So I did
I ate it
The last piece of chocolate cake
In promulgating your esoteric cogitations
or articulating your superficial sentimentalities and amicable philosophical and psychological observations,
beware of platitudinous ponderosities.
Let your conversational communications
possess a clarified conciseness,
a coalescent consistency and a concatenated cogency.
Eschew all conglomerations of flatulent garrulity,
jejune babblement and asinine affections.
Let your extemporaneous descantings and
unpremeditated expatiations have intelligibility and
veracious vivacity without rodomontade orthrasonical bombast.
Sedulously avoid all polysyllabic profundity,
ventriloqual verbosity or
obscurant or apparent.
Shun double entendre,
purient jocosity and
In other words…
Say what you mean and
mean what you say,
and don’t use big words!!
So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart. Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their view, and demand that they respect yours. Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life. Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people. Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.
Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend, even a stranger, when in a lonely place. Show respect to all people and grovel to none.
When you arise in the morning give thanks for the food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself. Abuse no one and no thing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision.
When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.
Don’t say, ‘It’s been a good day’ till sundown.
Don’t say, ‘She’s a good wife’ till she’s buried.
Don’t say, ‘It’s a good sword’ till you’ve tested it.
Don’t say, ‘She’s a good girl’ till she’s married off.
Don’t say, ‘The ice is safe’ till you’ve crossed it.
Don’t say, ‘The beer is good’ till you’ve drunk the last of it.