Mikro Ekonomi - Zeynel Dinler ücretsiz kitap indir

Joaquin Cerda direcnaval2ac4 — This was a dismal book. It was laborious and banal. Losing a son to brain cancer is tragic. Writing effusively about the experience of it is tragic-er.

Marc Garand marcgarand831a — If you enjoy this, you should also read Autobiography of a Face, by Lucy Greeley.

Ania Lipińska annalipinska — "If some one loves a flower, of which just one single blossom grows in all the millions and millions of stars, it is enough to make him happy just to look at the stars. He can say to himself, 'Somewhere, my flower is there . . .' But if the sheep eats the flower, in one moment all his stars will be darkened . . . And you think that is not important!" That is a beautiful occupation. And since it is beautiful, it is truly useful For it is possible for a man to be faithful and lazy at the same time. that man would be scorned by all the others: by the king, by the conceited man, by the tippler, by the businessman. Nevertheless he is the only one of them all who does not seem to me ridiculous. Perhaps that is because he is thinking of something else besides himself." "One only understands the things that one tames," said the fox. "Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me . . ." "They are pursuing nothing at all," said the switchman. "They are asleep in there, or if they are not asleep they are yawning. Only the children are flattening their noses against the windowpanes." So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near-- "Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry." "It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you . . ." "Yes, that is so," said the fox. "But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince. "Yes, that is so," said the fox. "Then it has done you no good at all!" "It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields." And then he added: "You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you--the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or ever sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. "The stars are beautiful, because of a flower that cannot be seen." "What makes the desert beautiful," said the little prince, "is that somewhere it hides a well . . ." This water was indeed a different thing from ordinary nourishment. Its sweetness was born of the walk under the stars, the song of the pulley, the effort of my arms. It was good for the heart, like a present.