An old priest told me this story when I was very young. I have since wondered many times where it came from. No one has been able to tell me.

Centuries ago a great artist was engaged to paint a mural for the cathedral in a Sicilian town. The subject was the life of Jesus. For many years the artist labored diligently and finally the painting was finished except for the two most important figures; the Child Jesus and Judas Iscariot. He searched far and wide
for models for those two figures.

One day while walking in an old part of the city he came upon some children playing in the street. Among them was a twelve year old boy whose face stirred the painter’s heart. It was the face of an angel-a very dirty one perhaps, but the face he needed. The artist took the child home with him, and day the boy sat patiently until the fact of the Child Jesus was finished. But the painter still found no one to serve as model for the portrait of Judas. For years, haunted by the fear that his masterpiece would remain unfinished, he continued his search.

The story of the unfinished masterpiece spread afar, and many men fancying themselves of wicked countenance, offered to pose as models for the face of Judas, but in vain. The old painter looked for a face that would serve to show Judas as he had envisioned him: a man warped by life, enfeebled by surrender to greed and lust.

Then one afternoon, as he sat in the tavern over his daily glass of wine, a gaunt and tattered figure staggered across the threshold and fell upon the floor. Wine, wine, ‘he begged. The painter lifted him up, and looked into a face that startled him. It seemed to bear the marks of every sin of mankind.

Greatly excited, the old painter helped the profligate to his feet.‘Come with me,’ he said,’ and I will give you mine, and food and clothing.” here at last was the model for Judas. For many days and part of many nights the painter worked feverishly to complete his masterpiece. As the work went on, a change came over the model. A strange tension replaced the stuporous languor and his bloodshot eyes were fixed with horror on the painted likeness of himself.

One day, perceiving his subject’s agitation, the painter paused in his work. ‘My son, I’d like to help you’. He said. ‘What troubles you so?’

The model sobbed and buried his face in his hands. After a long moment the lifted pleading eyes to he old painter’s face.

‘Do you not then remember me? Years ago I was your model for the Child Jesus.’

The Falling Man

“The Falling Man” is a nickname given to a man who fell from the North Tower of the World trade Center during the September 11 attacks in New York City, and is also the title of a photograph, magazine story and documentary film about the incident. The photo was taken by Richard Drew at 9:: 41:15 a.m on September 11, 2001. The story written by Tom Junod, appeared in the September 2003 issue of Esquire magazine, and was Slater made into a film.

The subject of the image – whose identity remains uncertain, although attempts have been made to identify him- was one of the people trapped on the upper floors of the skyscraper who apparently chose to jump rather than die from the fire and smoke, while the buildings collapsed. As many as 200 people jumped to their deaths; there was no time to recover or identify those who jumped prior to that. Officially , all deaths in the attacks except those of the hijackers were ruled to be homicides (as opposed to suicides), and the New York city Medical Examiner’s Office stated that it does not classify the people who fell to their deaths on September 11 as “ jumpers”. (“A ‘jumper ‘is somebody who goes to the office to the morning prepared to commit suicide…) These people were forced out by smoke and flames or blown out.”

This picture is somewhat deceptive; it gives the impression that the man is falling straight down. In reality, this is just one of a dozen photographs of his fall. In the other photos, it is evident that he is tumbling through the air out of control.

Five years after the attacks, Jonathan Briley, a 43 – year-old employee of the Windows on the World restaurant, was identified by chef Michael Lomonaco as The Falling Man. Brilley was a sound engineer who lived in Mount Vernon. New York and worked in the North Tower restaurant. According to the film, the victim was initially identified by his brother in the morgue by the victim’s hands and shoes. Lomonaco claims that he was able to identify Briley by his clothes and body- type. In one of the pictures. The Falling Man’s Clothes were blown away, revealing an orange undershirt similar to the shirt that Briley wore to work almost every day. His older sister, Gwendolyn, asserted he was wearing that shirt on the day of the attack. However, the identity of The Falling Man has never been officially confirmed.


Dr. karl Paulnack , pianist and director of the music division at the Boston Conservatory, gave this fantastic welcome address to the parents of incoming students at The Boston on September 1, 2004:

“One of my parents’ deepest fears, I suspect, is that society would not properly value me as a musician, that I wouldn’t be appreciated. I had very good grades in high school, I was good in science and math, and they imagined that as doctor or a research chemist or an engineer, I might be more appreciated than I would be as a musician. I still remember my mother’s remark when I announced my decision to apply to music school. She said, “You’re wasting your SAT scores!” On some level, I think, my parents were not sure what the value of music was, what its purpose was. And they loved music: they listened to classical music all the time. They just weren’t really clear about its function. So let me talk about that a little bit, because we live in a society that puts music in the “arts and entertainment” section of the newspaper. Serious music, the kind your kids are about to engage in, has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with entertainment, in fact it’s the opposite of entertainment. Let me talk a little bit about music, and how it works.

One of the first cultures to articulate how music really works was that of the ancient Greeks. And this is going to fascinate you: the Greeks said that music and astronomy were two sides of the same coin. Astronomy was seen as the study of relationships between observable, permanent, external objects, and music was seen as the study of relationships between invisible, internal, hidden objects.

Music has a way of finding the big, invisible moving pieces inside our hearts and souls and helping us figure out the position of things inside us. Let me give you some examples of how this works

One of the most profound musical compositions of all time is the “Quartet for the End of Time” written by a France composer Olivier Messiaen in 1940. Messiaen was 31 years old when France entered the war against Nazi Germany. He was captured by the Germans in June of 1940 and imprisoned in a prisoner – of –war camp.

He was fortunate to find a sympathetic prison guard who gave him paper and a place to compose, and was fortunate to have musician colleagues in the camp a cellist, a violinist and a clarinetist. Messiaen wrote his quartet with these specific players in mind. It was performed in January 1941 for four thousand prisoners and guards in the prison camp. Today it is one of the most famous masterworks in the repertoire.

Given what we have since learned about life in the Nazi camps, why would anyone in his right mind waster time and energy writing or playing music? There was barely enough energy on a good day to find food and water, to avoid a beating, to stay warm, to escape torture- why would anyone bother with music? And yet- even from the concentration camps, we have poetry, we have music, we have visual art; it wasn’t just this one fanatic Messiaen; many, many people created art. Why? Well, in a place where people are only focused on survival, on the bare necessities, the obvious conclusion is that art must be, somehow, essential for life. The camps were without money, without hope, without commerce. Without recreation, without basic respect, but they were not without art. Art is part of survival; art is part of the human spirit, an unquenchable expression of who we are. Art is one of the ways in which we say, “I am alive, and my life has meaning”.

In September of 2001 I was a resident of Manhattan; on the morning of September 12, 2001 I reached a new understanding of my art and its relationship to the world. I sat down at the piano that morning at 10 a.m to practice as was my daily routine; I did it by force of habit, without thinking about it. I lifted the cover on the keyboard, and opened my music, and put my hands on the keys and just as soon took my hands off it. And I sat there and though, do this even matter? Isn’t this completely irrelevant? Playing the piano right now, given what happened in this city yesterday, seems silly, absurd, irreverent, and pointless. Why am I here? What place has a musician in this moment in time? Who needs a piano player right now? I was completely lost. And then I, along with the rest of New York, went through the journey of getting through that week. I did not play the piano that day, and in fact I contemplated briefly whether I would ever want to play the piano again. And then I observed how we got through the day.


It was a chilly, rainy, orning; terrible weather for summer.

School was out, but I couldn’t go outside and play because mom said I would get sick.

So, I put on my jacket and went out on the front porch, and that’s where I found this blond Labrador with a hurt paw.
“Gee, what happened to you?” asked as k knelt down beside him.

He whined and put his head down on his good paw.

There wasn’t a collar, so I didn’t know who he belonged to or what I should do.

It seemed kind of mean to call the dogcatcher on a hurt animal.

“Mom!” I shouted as I ran inside the house. But mom was gone. I’d forgotten that w\she had to go to the store.
Oh we, I went to my room and got out my first aid kit.

It wasn’t a real one. Just the one I played doctor and patient wit, but it had stuff from mighty mom’s real one, like iodine, bandages, stuff like that.

After carrying medical supplies out on the porch, I bent down to the dog again, “what’s your name, huh?” the dog only whined.
“guess I’ll call you godly” I told him,” since you’re gold.”

I nursed the dog’s paw as best as I could, then sat down next to him and patted his head because he seemed kind of sad. Questions circled through my mind, like, how did he get hurt? Who did he along to? Where did he live? How did he get lost? Goldy and I sat go tether unit mom came home.

“Can I keep him, Mon?”

She knelt down withes and patted the dog’s head to. “He probably beings to someone, Shelly. He must have somehow got separated from his master. We need to find his owner” my heart sank. I knew she was going to say that.
“But if the owner doesn’t show up, I guess he’s ours.”

So mom put a notice in the paper, and we waited. It was the longest wait of my life. Goldy was a good dog, and mended more every day. At first he couldn’t walk on his paw at all, but then little by little it healed.

The days went by with no one showing up to claim the dong. When god was feeling a all better, we played Frisbee and football in the year. He was a very smart dog and knew commands like “sit”, “stay”, and “come”.

“Someone must have trained him”, mom said sadly. “That means he has an owner”. But still no onecam.secretly,I was glad. I wanted goldy to beamy dog Momevenput his picture in the paper, and still no one came.

“Guess he’s you r dog now, steely,” she dad one day, as they brought home a new chew toy for Godly to play with. “yey!” I yelled jumping up and down.

Goldy was even beginning to act like my dog. He followed dme to schoolman nod waited all day untilled came out. He even walked beside me, and on the outside of the sidewalk to get between me and the traffic.

Then one day when we got home from school, a strange van was in the driveway, and there was a lady with dark sunglasses and a white cane on our front porch talking to Mom. A man was with her. Godly started barking and ran up to the blind lady.
“Sam!”The lady laughed, and godly ran into her arms. Goldy whined with love, licking all over the lady’s face. I looked at Mom. She didn’t have to tell me what was going on godly wasn’t really godly. He was Sam. and he was her Sam. Her guide dog. my heart sank.

The lady began to cry, and so did Sam, by the sound of him. They looked so happy to be reunited. I started to cry too, but for a different reason. I was going to lose my new best friend.

“Thank you, Shelly”, the lady said holding her hand out for me to shake, “for taking care of Sam. We were in a traffic accident, and somehow we got separated when went to the hospital. I guess he lost his collar and harness too”. I looked at their hand, I don’t want to give godly up, but I could see that it was this lady the really belonged to. not me. I was just temporary.

She needed him, and he needed her. He was a trained working dog with an important job to do. They were happy together. And I definitely wanted Sam to be happy.
I did what I knew was right, and shook Diane’s hand.

“You’re welcome”, I told her. It was hard letting him go, but it would have been harder keeping him from his rightful owner. “You can come visit him anytime you lime,”diance offered.

That put a big smile on my face. “Thank you”. I said and watched the car with the two happy souls disappear round the driveway.

Appearances are deceptive – Moral story

•Hughie was wonderfully good looking with his crisp brown hair, his clear cut profile and his grey eyes. He was as popular with men as he was with women, and he had every accomplishment except that of making money. He had tried everything. But he became nothing, a delightful, ineffectual young man with a perfect profile and to profession.

•Hughie wanted to marry Laura Merton, the daughter of a retired colonel. The colonel was very fond of Hughie but would not hear of any engagement. “Come to me my boy, when you have got ten thousand pounds of your own and we will see about it,” he said. Hughie looked very glum and he cursed himself for his inability to fulfill the condition.

• One morning as he was on his way to Holland Park, he dropped in to see a great friend of his, Alan Trevor. Trevor was a painter. He was a strange rough fellow with a freckled face and a red ragged beard.

•When he took up the brush, he was a real master and his pictures were eagerly sought after.

• When Hughie came in, he found Trevor painting the finishing touches to a wonderful life size picture of a beggar man. The beggar himself was standing on a platform in a corner of the studio. He was a wizened old man with a face like wrinkled parchment and a most piteous expression. Over his shoulders was flung a coarse brown cloak, all tears and tatters; his thick boots were patched and cobbled and with one hand he leant on a rough stick while with the other he held out his battered hat for alms.

•“What an amazing model!” whispered Hughie, as he shook hands with his friend?

“An amazing model?” shouted Trevor at the top of his voice. “I should think so! Such beggars as he are not to be met with every day”.

•“Certainly you don’t want a beggar to look happy, do you?”

•“How much does a model aged for sitting?” asked Hughie.

•“A shilling an hour”.

•“And how much do you get for your picture, Alan?”

•“Oh! For this I get two thousand pounds.”

• After sometime, the servant came in and told Trevor that the frame maker wanted to speak to him. “Don’t run away Hughie” he said, as he went out, “I’ll be back in a moment”, the old beggar took advantage of Trevor’s absence to rest for a moment on a wooden bench. He looked so forlorn that Hughie could not help pitying him. All he could find was a sovereign and some coppers. “Poor old fellow”, he to himself and slipped the sovereign into the beggar’s hand. The old man said, “thank You sir”. Then Trevor arrived and Hughie took his leave.

God heavens! I gave him a sovereign!” and he sank into an armchair. “Gave him a sovereign!” shouted Trevor and he burst into a roar of laughter.

• “What will he think of me?” said Hughie. “Oh, my God! I could not make out why he was so interested to know all about you; but I see it all now. He will invest your sovereign for you, Hughie, pay you the interest every six months and have a capital story to tell after dinner”, commented Trevor.

The next morning as he was at breakfast, the servant brought him a card on which was written baron hauusberg and Hughie told the servant to show the visitor up, an old gentleman came into the room. “I have come from baron hausberg”, he continued. “I beg sir, that you will offer him my apologies.” Statemered Hughie.

“the baron”, said the old gentleman with a smile, “has commissioned me to bring you this letter”, and he extended a sealed envelope, on which was written “A wedding present to Hugh Erskine – Hughie and Laura – from an ‘old beggar” and inside was a cheuqe for ten thousand pounds.

“Millionaire models” remarked Alan, “are rare enough, but by Joe! Model millionaires are rarer still!”

Hilsa Fish – Story for children

Gopal was a clever and witty jester. He lived in a small kingdom, ruled by a king called raja Krishna Chandra. The Raja often turned to Gopal to help him out of difficult situations or solve a difficult problem.

In Gopal’s city, Hilsa fish was a very popular fish. Hilsa fish being available only once a year, never failed to grab everyone’s attention and interest. When it was Hilsa season, housewives exchanged recipes; shopkeepers discussed the latest price of Hilsa. Fishermen talked about catching the biggest Hilsa of the season.

The king Raja Krishna was surprised to see even his courtiers discussing Hilsa fish rather than more important state matters. Finally, unable to bear this anymore he decided to put an end to all this talk about the fish. He thought he would be at peace even if people would stop talking about it for a few minutes. He announced a reward of fifty gold coins to anyone who could bring to the palace a big Hilsa fish from the market. But he also said that while bringing the fish to the palace no passerby must talk about the fish.

Even after week no one succeeded in this challenge. Simple as the task seemed many tried to attempt it but the look of Hilsa fish did not fail to excite remarks from onlookers. After a week Gopal decided to take up the challenge.

He woke up one morning, shaved off half of his beard, put mud all over his face and hair, put on old clothes and wore his shirt backwards. His wife when she looked at him demanded to know where he was going dressed like that. “To get the biggest Hilsa fish available.” So saying he left her and headed to the market. There he bought a big Hilsa fish; he started walking towards the palace making very little effort to hide the fish.

On the way people who were shocked at Gopal’s appearance. They wondered if he had finally gone mad. With mud on his face and his beard half-shaven he did look strange. Some others feared that Gopal had lost his memory. When Gopal reached the palace gates the guards hardly recognized him and wouldn’t let him inside. One guard went inside to inform the king, the king, the king summoned Gopal inside. He took one look at Gopal and was shocked to see his best advisor looking like a tramp. He demanded Gopal to explain himself. Gopal merely laughed and replied that he had won the challenge and the king owed him fifty gold coins. The king looked confused. He wanted to know what challenge Gopal was talking about. Gopal unwrapped a big. Hilsa fish from under his arms and showed it to the king. No one who had met him had spoken anything about the fish. In fact no one had noticed the fish, and Gopal’s looks had distracted them. The king praised Gopal’s cleverness and gave him fifty gold coins, but told him to go home at once and clean himself. Gopal went home happier and richer.

The Emperor’s New Clothes – English story for children

Storyteller: As all good stories go,

This too happened long, long ago.

Exactly when, I do not know,

But my dear grandma told me so,

That in the palace, built on the plain,

Lived the Emperor who was very, very vain.

He dressed at dawn, he dressed at night,

He dressed as often as he might.

He dressed for breakfast, he dressed for tea,

He dressed, whenever it pleased him, you see.

For affairs of State he couldn’t care less,

No wonder his empire was in a sorry mess.

Ah! Here he comes, all clad in green,

Watch him strut, watch him preen.

Emperor: “How far have you progressed, worthy gentlemen? I can hardly wait for the dress to be finished. I absolutely must, have a glimpse of your handiwork.”

First Dressmaker: “you have come in good time. Your majesty. The dress is almost complete. All that remain is the Jewel studded royal train. Come, take a look”.

(He leads the Emperor to a corner, where there is an empty loom).

Second Dressmaker: (running his hands thought the air)” Ah, do you see the embroidery at the neck? This peacock, studded with three jewels, isn’t it marvelous?  And look at this diamond studded waistband. If you have ever seen anything more wonderful than this, why, we are willing to eat our shoes!”

Emperor: (under his breath) “My Lord! I can’t see a thing! Can it be that I, the Emperor of such a vast empire, am actually stupid? Well, if I am, then I must be careful, not to show it.”

Emperor: (walks towards the loom and exclaims aloud) “it’s unbelievable! Marvelous. Simply marvelous! And yes, the peacock looks real. I can’t tell you how happy you have made me. In fact, I can’t wait to wear it.”

First Dressmaker:  “just one hour more. You’re Majesty and the dress will be ready for you to wear.”

Scene 3

Storyteller: Exclaiming over an invisible dress.

The foolish Emperor hides his distress.

The minister says, shaking his head, “What a dress!”

Though he can’t see a thread.

The courtiers, all too eager to please.

Is all praise of the invisible piece?

Each wondering as he prepares to lie,

“When the other can see it, why can’t l?

While all exclaim over the dress’s beauty.”

The dressmakers run away with their booty.

Now there’s the Emperor in the town square.

Wearing a dress that just isn’t there.

(The Emperor is taking a state ride through the town to show off his wonderful new dress to his admiring subjects. Though none of them can see the dress, all of them pretend to admire it, for fear that they would otherwise be considered fools)

First Townsman: “well, I ‘m sure we haven’t seen anything like this in all our lives. How majestic our Emperor looks in his wonderful robe.”

Second Townsman: “Yes, indeed. They say that he gave those clever dressmakers some of the finest jewels in his treasury. And why not? They have made for him a dress, fit for the very Gods!”

Third Townsman: “What colours! What designs! It has the colours of a rainbow”.

A child in a Woman’s Arms: “Mama! But I can’t see any clothes. He is wearing only his underwear and nothing else!”

Woman: “Hush, my child. Not so loud. Don’t listen to the child.”

First Townsman: “Did you hear what that child said? To tell you the truth, I too can’t see any clothes on the Emperor, except his undergarments”

Second Townsman: “The child is right. The Emperor does not seem to have any clothes on”.

(Soon there is a Buzz in the crowd. Slowly word reaches the Prime Minister that nobody can see the Emperor’s new clothes.)

Prime Minister: “you’re Majesty, er… Well … er…”

Emperor: “out with it! What is it? Have you found some new Marvels in this dress?”

Prime Minister: “Er.., well. Your Majesty, you see, I have just heard that nobody can see your new dress.

I can’t too. I …. I do think we have been Duped. Your Majesty, pardon me for saying this, but you are not wearing any clothes and everyone can see that you are wearing only your undergarments.”

(This moved the Emperor deeply, for it seemed to him that the people were right. The emperor waited to hear no more. But he felt that he must continue with the procession. The ministers continued to hold on to the train which was not there at all.)

Storyteller: The Emperor vowed that never again would he be so silly and vain. And here, story ends.

write a essay about SOLAR ENERGY

Energy is inevitable for the existence of the universe and source of it is the sun. The major problem experienced in all the country is the non-availability of synthetic and fossil fuels. The solar energy enriches a lot of nutricians.

There is no pollution in this system. To avoid the pollution and at the same time saving firewood, we have to use solar energy.

Sunlight is one of the nature things which is used mostly in various fields. This face is that all energy on earth originally, comes from the sun.

The generally used hydrocarbon, fuels such as cool. oil and natural gas are originally produced by The action of sunlight on vegetation.

The energy form solar is having the high heat energy The solar energy has substantial and dependable potentiality.

It has the sources of renewal energy. It is available in plenty in India. It can be utilized for multipurpose. There are various applications of
solar energy in uses now-a-days.

Generation of electricity is an outcome of solar energy. Photovoltaic solar cells change the solar energy into electricity. it gives 1000 limes more energy that what we need   With the help of hydrogen or
mechanical or electrical devices, solar energy can be stored.

The potential for wind energy is immense source of power, the technology available for exploitation is cost it is Despite it is must for the growing population’s consumption.

TELEVISION – Example essay writing in english

In the Age of Information Technology, we see a large number of electronic goods invented by the scientists. So, nothing can be done without electronic gadgets. Among the modem inventions is T.V., which has now become a boon for mass communication.

T.V. entertains our eyes and ears. It accumulates thinking power. It is no longer luxury. It blends education with entertainment. It is an audio visual deuce which provides plenty of information. But it becomes an effective medium in changing both the social and political order.

Most of the serials telecast through TV. Affect the people and make them aware of the prevailing environment and condition of the

Although TV has become an easy and regular source of entertainment, it takes an important role of booster. The usefulness of T.V cannot be underestimated at all.

While sitting in a room, one can witness the events of any comer of the world. Really it is exciting we should be grateful lo TV. Baird for
the invention of T.V anybody can enjoy witnessing TV.

Regarding sports, weather, agriculture business, politics, religion and what not, serials are telecast we are gifted to have T.V The
telecast through the satellite has added a new dimension to the usefulness of T.V. As a result it, T.V. has reached almost all parts of

Television is a bane in one sense but it great boon to us. Whatever strikes good to us, one should take  advantage of it.

Like all objects of science, television is a good servant but a bad master. One can develop one’s personality mental attitude optimistically
through its proper use. It serves the society in own course.


Cricket is a famous game of most of the people. It is the national game of England. It is  the game for the summer amusement of all the people irrespective of age. There is cricket club in every village and town.

The introduction of the cricket into India is remarkable evidence of its fascination Cricket began flourishing in India. The cricket trains the skill and intellect of the cricket player the long time which the team takes to finish a well contested cricket match affords excellent training
in endurance and unfaltering determination. They prove that success ca n be achieved through smart playing . It creates team spirit, leadership quality and creates motivation: Positive thinkers can be winners. One cricketer excels as a balls man, mother as a bowler, third may be good at catch- skills and fourth may be clever at throwing ball in twisting style. The institution of  the umpire inspires an orderly spirit among the players.

The cricket is a valuable game. The strength of cricket fans grow day by day. Everyone has flair to know about the cricket game. Cricket creates national spirit.

It is a game of entertainment for anybody else who wants to spend time at leisure. Sachin Tendulkar. Kavaskar, Viswanath. Patel are said to
be role-models of the modern cricket fans. They are source of inspiration for the youngsters who aspire to become the best cricket players in India.