<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452073863416790290</id><updated>2012-02-16T11:26:10.266-08:00</updated><title type='text'>::::I Me Myself::::</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kdsb-imemyself.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1452073863416790290/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kdsb-imemyself.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>KDS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03973004836795296950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452073863416790290.post-3735747597909752844</id><published>2007-07-24T09:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-24T10:02:26.628-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EI9EfIvemI4/RqYwhHBDbrI/AAAAAAAAABE/9yKWvdNkc-c/s1600-h/anm9441cc7033196e97.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EI9EfIvemI4/RqYwhHBDbrI/AAAAAAAAABE/9yKWvdNkc-c/s320/anm9441cc7033196e97.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090809774166208178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1452073863416790290-3735747597909752844?l=kdsb-imemyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kdsb-imemyself.blogspot.com/feeds/3735747597909752844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1452073863416790290&amp;postID=3735747597909752844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1452073863416790290/posts/default/3735747597909752844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1452073863416790290/posts/default/3735747597909752844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kdsb-imemyself.blogspot.com/2007/07/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>KDS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03973004836795296950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_EI9EfIvemI4/RqYwhHBDbrI/AAAAAAAAABE/9yKWvdNkc-c/s72-c/anm9441cc7033196e97.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452073863416790290.post-772921331575756858</id><published>2007-07-20T06:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-20T07:01:32.325-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Godfather</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;"Behind every great fortune there is a crime." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;-Balzac.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The Godfather by Mario Puzo is truly a classic. Puzo is at its best when he describes the life of Don Vito Corleone which forms the backbone of the story. The impeccable language of Puzo in true &lt;em&gt;Mafioso&lt;/em&gt; style gives you the real feel of the novel. The movie made on this novel has been ranked no. 1 in the internet movie database which is again a testimony of the fact that how good the novel is. Here are a few of the critics’ views:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"Hate him, fear him, despise him, he is the King Cobra,commanding, all-knowing, supreme in his power, awesome in his wrath…This is the hard, chilling, incredible brutal reality of the vice that this nation tolerates." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"…He will refuse his godchildren nothing…He can, in sudden blood streaks fix anything."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"Breakneck drive…you can’t stop reading it, you’ll find it hard to stop dreaming about it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;To choose what I like best in this novel is very difficult. The story of Don and his character is really good but one can never ignore the rise of the Don from his young days. The development of the character of Michael Corleone and how he turns into a mafia head is overwhelming. Besides this the other characters like Santino Corleone, Tom Hagen, Johnny Fontane and Luca Brasi are quite forceful. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story involves you as you read it on and it’s hard not to imagine the characters, their faces and their body language. The style of Puzo is mind blowing. Here I give you my favorite lines (in the order which these appear in the book) and excerpts from the book which make me read the book again and again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"He (Bonasera) paused and made his decision, no longer fearing the cost. For justice we must go on our knees to Don Corleone."&lt;br /&gt;"And there was only one man who could arrange such an affair. The Godfather. Don Corleone."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"Luca brasi did not fear the police, he did not fear society, he did not fear God, he did not fear hell, he did not fear or love his fellow man. But he had elected, he had &lt;em&gt;chosen&lt;/em&gt;, to fear and love Don Corleone."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"Don Corleone did this by putting a pistol to the forehead of the band leader and assuring him with the outmost seriousness that either his signature or his brains would rest on that document in exactly one minute. He signed."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"Tom Hagen smiled coldly at Woltz. ‘Mr. Corleone is a man who insists on hearing bad news at once.’ "&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Luca’s eyes were bulging out of his head as if in the outmost surprise and this was the only humanity remaining to him. He was dead."&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;(Sonny) "If Sollozzo shows one hair on his asshole he’s dead."&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Michael looked around at all of them, then stared at Sonny who still couldn’t stop laughing. ‘You’ll take both of them?’ Sonny said. ‘Hey, kid, they won’t give you medals, they put you in the electric chair. You know that? This is no hero business kid, you don’t shoot people from a mile away. You shoot when you see the whites of their eyes like we got taught in school, remember? You gotta stand right next to them and blow their heads off and their brains get all over your nice Ivy League suit. How about hat kid, you wanta do that just because some dumb cop slapped you around?’ He was still laughing.&lt;br /&gt;Michael stood up. ‘You better stop laughing,’ he said. The change in him was so extraordinary that the smiles vanished from the faces of Clemenza and Tessio. Michael was not tall or heavily built but his presence seemed to radiate danger. In that moment he was the incarnation of the Don Corleone himself. His eyes had gone a pale tan and his face was bleached of color….."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;(Michael) "‘Tom don’t let anybody kid you. It’s all personal, every bit of business. Every piece of shit every man has to eat every day of his life is personal. They call it business. OK. But it’s personal as hell. You know where I learned that from? The Don. My old man. The Godfather. If a bolt of lightning hit a friend of his the old man takes it personal… That’s what makes him great. The great Don. He takes everything personal. Like God. He knows every feather that falls from the tail of a sparrow or however the hell it goes. Right? And you know something? Accidents don’t happen to people who take accidents as a personal insult. So I came late, OK, but I’m coming all the way. Damn right, I take that broken jaw personal; damn right, I take Sollozzo trying to kill my father personal.’ He laughed. ‘Tell the old man I learned it all from him and that I’m glad I had this chance to pay him back for all he did for me. He was a good father.’ He paused and then said thoughtfully to Hagen, ‘You know, I can never remember him hitting me. Or Sonny. Or Freddie. And of course Connie, he wouldn’t even yell at her. And tell me the truth, Tom, how many men do you figure the Don killed or had killed.’ "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"And in the new land he changed his name to Corleone to preserve some tie with his native village. It was one of the few gestures of sentiment he was ever to make."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"‘I’ll reason with him,’ Vito Corleone said. It was to become a famous phrase in the years to come. It was to become a winning rattle before a deadly strike. When he became a Don and asked opponents to reason with him, they understood it was the last chance to resolve an affair without bloodshed and murder. "&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Vito corleone had decided to murder Fanucci…If he did not kill Fanucci, he would have to pay the man the man seven hundred dollars cold cash. Fanucci alive was not worth seven hundred dollars to him…If Fanucci needed seven hundred dollars for an operation to save his life, he would not give Fanucci seven hundred dollars for surgeon. He owed Fanucci no personal debt of gratitude, they were not blood relatives, he did not love Fanucci. Whyfore, then, should he give Fanucci seven hundred dollars?"&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;(Don) "Lawyers can steal more money with a briefcase than a thousand men with guns and masks."&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"He (Don) considered a use of threats the most foolish kind of exposure; the unleashing of anger without forethought as most dangerous indulgence. No one had had ever hear the Don utter a naked threat, no one had ever seen him in an uncontrollable rage."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"Nobody made the mistake of assuming that Don Corleone could be held cheaply because of his past misfortunes. He was a man who had made very few mistakes in his career and had learned from every one of them."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;(Don) "…I am here not to quarrel or convince, but only to reason and as a reasonable man do everything possible for us all to par friends too. I give my word on that, and some of you who know me well know I do not give my word lightly. Ah, well, let’s get down to business. We are all honorable men here; we don’t have to give each other assurances as if we were lawyers."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"They (all the dons) were those rarities, men who had refused to accept the rule of organized society, men who had refused dominion of other men. There was no force, no mortal man who could bend them to their will unless they wished it. They were men who guarded their free will with wiles and murder. Their wills could be subverted only by death, or the outmost reasonableness."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"‘What manner of men are we then, if we do not have our reason,’ Don said. ‘We are no better than beasts in the jungle if that were the case. But we have reason, we can reason with each other and we can reason with ourselves…"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;(Don) "We are all men who have refused to be fools, who have refused to be puppets dancing on a string pulled by the men on high."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;(Don) "Let me go further. If my son is struck by a bolt of lightning I will blame some of the people here. If his plane should fall into the sea or his ship sink beneath the waves of the ocean, if he should catch a mortal fever, if his automobile should be struck by a train, such is my superstition that I will blame the ill will felt by people here. Gentlemen, that ill will, that bad luck, I could never forgive…"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"The other Dons in the room applauded and rose to shake hands with everybody in sight and to congratulate Don Corleone and Don Tattaglia on their new friendship. It was not perhaps the warmest friendship in the world, they would not send each other Christmas gift greetings, but they would not murder each other. That was friendship enough in this world, all that was needed."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"Michael gave them a cold stare… The cold look, Michael’s rigid face, his anger that came off him like cold smoke off ice, sobered their laughter and snuffed out their familiar friendliness."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;(Michael) "Don Tommasino, you know my father (Don Corleone). He is a man who goes deaf when somebody says the word no to him. And he doesn’t get his hearing back until they answer him with a yes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;"Michael said quietly, ‘I will make him an offer he can’t refuse.’"&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"(Michael) ‘…I’m not asking you for anything. But atlest you can consider our relationship friendly, and I assume that you would do for me what you’d do for any good friend. That’s my string. But you can refuse it.’&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Tom Hagen lowered his head and smiled. Not even Don himself could have done it any better."&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"In a completely natural way, Mama Corleone said, ‘I go for my husband,’ she pointed down towards the floor, ‘so he don’t go down there.’ She paused. ‘I say my prayers for his soul everyday so he go up there.’ She pointed heavenward."&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Tessio had a better opinion of Michael. He sensed something else in the young man: a force cleverly kept hidden, a man jealously guarding his strength from public gaze, following the Don’s percept that a friend should always underestimate your virtues and an enemy should overestimate your faults."&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Hagen knew he was being mollified. ‘Maybe I can help,’ he said.&lt;br /&gt;Michael shook his head decisively. ‘You’re out Tom.’&lt;br /&gt;Tom finished his drink and before he left he gave Michael a mild reproof. ‘You are nearly as good as your father,’ he told Michael. ‘But there is one thing you still have to learn.’&lt;br /&gt;‘What’s that?’ Michael said politely.&lt;br /&gt;‘How to say no,’ Hagen answered.&lt;br /&gt;Michael nodded gravely. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I’ll remember that.’&lt;br /&gt;When Hagen had left, Michael said jokingly to his father, ‘So you have taught me everything else. Tell me how to say no to people in a way they like.’&lt;br /&gt;The Don moved to sit behind the big desk. ‘You cannot say ‘no’ to the people you love, not often. That’s the secret. And then when you do, it has to sound like a ‘yes’. Or you have to make them say ‘no’. You have to take time and trouble. But I’m old fashioned and you’re the new modern generation, don’t listen to me.’ "&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"‘Revenge is a dish that tastes best when it is cold,’ Don said."&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"He (Don) smelled the garden, the yellow shield of light smote his eyes, and he whispered, ‘Life is so beautiful.’"&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Long time ago he (Michael) he had sat in the garden with Kay never dreaming that so curious a destiny was to be his. And his father dying had said, ‘Life is so beautiful.’ Michael could never remember his father having uttered a word about death, as if the Don respected death too much to philosophize about it."&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Yet, he (Michael) thought, if I can die saying, ‘Life is so beautiful,’ then nothing else is important. If I can believe in myself that much, nothing else matters. He would follow his father."&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;(Don) "Since he does not fear death and indeed looks for it the trick is to make yourself the only person in the world that he truly desires not to kill him. He has only that one fear, not of death, but that you may be the one to kill him. He is yours then."&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"Kay looked into his eyes. ‘Michael, it’s not true, please say it’s not true.’&lt;br /&gt;Michael shook his head wearily. ‘Of course it’s not. Just believe me, this one time I’m letting you ask about my affairs, and I’m giving you an answer. It is not true.’ He had never been more convincing. He looked directly into her eyes. He was using all the mutual trust they had built up in their married life to make her believe him. And she could not doubt any longer. She smiled at him ruefully and came into his arms for a kiss."&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"She (Kay) emptied her mind of all thought of herself, of her children, of all anger, of all rebellion, of all questions. Then with a profound and deeply willed desire to believe, to be heard as she had done every day since the murder of Carlo Rizzi, she said the necessary prayers for the soul of Michael Corleone."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1452073863416790290-772921331575756858?l=kdsb-imemyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kdsb-imemyself.blogspot.com/feeds/772921331575756858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1452073863416790290&amp;postID=772921331575756858' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1452073863416790290/posts/default/772921331575756858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1452073863416790290/posts/default/772921331575756858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kdsb-imemyself.blogspot.com/2007/07/godfather.html' title='The Godfather'/><author><name>KDS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03973004836795296950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
