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| On
Anger |
Ah, those poor nave innocents. Such quaintly charming habits of
the jungle. Screaming at trees, indeed. How primitive. Too bad
they don't have the advantages of modern technology and the
scientific mind.
Me? I yell at my wife. And yell at the telephone and the lawn
mower. And yell at the TV and the newspaper and my children.
I've been known to shake my fist and yell at the sky at times.
Man next door yells at his car a lot. And this summer I heard
him yell at a stepladder for most of an afternoon. We modern,
urban, educated folks yell at traffic and umpires and bills
and banks and machines--especially machines. Machines and
relatives get most of the yelling.
Don't know what good it does. Machines and things just sit
there. Even kicking doesn't always help. As for people, well,
the Solomon Islanders may have a point. Yelling at living
things does tend to kill the spirit in them. Sticks and
stones may break our bones, but words will break our hearts....
-- Robert Fulghum |
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