He who throws a stone in the market will hit his relative.
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter XCVIII: Absolutely Relative
Expensive is absolute, cheap is relative
Far is absolute, near is relative
Ugly is absolute, beauty is relative
Weird is absolute, crazy is relative
Stubborn is absolute, brave is relative
Stupid is absolute, smart is relative
Weak is absolute, strong is relative
Old is absolute, mature is relative
Lose is absolute, win is relative
Rich is absolute, poor is relative
Sad is absolute, happy is relative
Misfortune is absolute, lucky is relative
Safe is absolute, fear is relative
Love is absolute, hate is relative
Important is absolute, forgotten is relative
Easy is absolute, difficult is relative
Wrong is absolute, right is relative
Bad is absolute, good is relative
Lie is absolute, truth is relative
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Einstein, Nicholas, My Fantastic Wife And Our Dog On The Beach At Home
a stone
a relative stone
a meteoric stone
a Newtonian stone
a photoelectric stone
a stone from Manhattan
a thermodynamic stone
one stone
a son
in my life
in my wife
a sun
alone
poem by Nicolas Grenier
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The madman, who throws a stone into a crowded market, forgets that his own mother could be hit by his madness.
To Turn The Stone
The moon retreats behind a silver cloud
As darkness throws its cloak towards the earth
And mystery replaces what thought we knew
To turn the stone, to turn the stone
The one dimension only shows one side
But do we see the same through different eyes
As you and I peer into lifes kaleidoscope
To turn the stone, to turn the stone
Eternal sands of time shift endlessly
Behind a veil of motionless disguise
An eyelid flash is all it really seems to need
To turn the stone, to turn the stone
To turn the stone, to turn the stone
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Afternoon
a woman with a long black hair
sweeps the road
using a coconut broom
three children pass by
and suddenly throws a stone
to the mango tree
a motorcycle speeds its way
from the market
a dog crosses the street
the little girl runs after
we hear a screeching sound of the
brakes
and that is how the case starts
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Of course, relative citation frequencies are no measure of relative importance. Who has not aspired to write a paper so fundamental that very soon it is known to everyone and cited by no one?
quote by Abraham Pais
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Is All Relative
It is all relative.
'What is? '
The receiving of a gift.
And the receiver of it,
Is unaware what it is...
Until eyes are open.
It is all relative.
'What is? '
The moment that a dawning comes,
To be welcomed by one awakening.
And only then,
Will a comprehension begin.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The dog rages at the stone, not at him that throws it.
A dog bites the stone, not him who throws it.
Who throws a stone above him may have it fall on his own head.
The one who throws the stone forgets; the one who is hit remembers forever.
Who throws a stone at the sky, it falls back on his head.
A fool throws a stone into a well, and it requires a hundred wise men to get it out again.
I think the market is always going to be around. The goal is not to say, let's get rid of the market, because the market does render a huge number of services, and I don't want to have a fight about the price of something every time I buy a book or a bottle of water.
quote by Susan George
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rainy Day Women #12 & 35
Well, they'll stone ya when you're trying to be so good,
They'll stone ya just a-like they said they would.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to go home.
Then they'll stone ya when you're there all alone.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone ya when you're walkin' 'long the street.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to keep your seat.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' on the floor.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' to the door.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
They'll stone ya when you're at the breakfast table.
They'll stone ya when you are young and able.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to make a buck.
They'll stone ya and then they'll say, "good luck."
Tell ya what, i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone you and say that it's the end.
Then they'll stone you and then they'll come back again.
They'll stone you when you're riding in your car.
They'll stone you when you're playing your guitar.
Yes, but i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone you when you walk all alone.
They'll stone you when you are walking home.
They'll stone you and then say you are brave.
They'll stone you when you are set down in your grave.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The death of not a relative is a wedding.Compared to a death of a relative.
Poverty Is A Relative Thing
It is true poverty is a relative thing
A poor bloke buys his girlfriend a ten dollar ring
But to a pauper one with ten dollars is not poor at all
What to one seems big to another seems small,
That poverty is a relative thing seems so true
You may well be poor but many poorer than you
There are millions of homeless on Poverty Street
Searching in rubbish bins to find something to eat
And there are millions who lay down to rest hungry at night
And sleep in the open under the starlight
At least you have a roof over your head and a bed on which to lie
And it will not be of malnutrition that you will die
And of those down on their luck the singer may sing
But poverty can be a relative thing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Hear me, four quarters of the world - a relative I am Give me the strength to walk the soft earth, a relative to all that is Give me the eyes to see and the strength to understand, that I may be like you. With your power only can I face the winds.
Grades are almost completely relative, in effect ranking students relative to others in their class. Thus extra achievement by one student not only raises his position, but in effect lowers the position of others.
quote by James S. Coleman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Knife
THE plough that marks on Harley's field
In flying earth its print
Throws up, like death itself concealed,
A fang of rosy flint,
A flake of stone, by fingers hewed
Whose buried bones are gone,
All gone, with fingers, hunters, food,
But still the knife lives on.
And well I know, when bones are nought,
The blade of stone survives—
I, too, from clods of aching thought,
Have turned up sharper knives.
poem by Kenneth Slessor
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