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reetings from Australia.
Welcome to this Red-Letter Day. Below you will find today's global celebrations, birthdays and events.
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Jesse
had a wife to mourn him for all her life, Height
five feet ten and one half inches, eyes blue, complexion light, snaps
his eyes when talking, they are large. Wears seven and one-eight hat
and number eight boot. Nose short and turned up at the end. Round
features, fleshy face. Whiskers sandy... first joint of third finger
on left hand is gone .. .two bullet holes about three inches apart
near the right nipple. Is bow-legged and steps very quickly. Is very
graceful rider ... When on a raid dresses very common, dark calico
shirt and ducking overalls, pants in boots. Has white smooth hands,
wears gloves. ... rather slender, not very
robust, yet wiry and evidently capable of great endurance, as well as
being shrewd and brave. His eyes are sunken, of a hazel color,
and are large, restless, and piercing. His forehead is high, and his
hair is thin, short, and of a light brown color. He is about 5 feet 8
inches high, and wears a nut-brown suit. He would never be singled out
of a crowd as a youth of qualities worthy of especial notice. |
Jesse James |
Bob Ford I don't trust; I think he
is a sneak; but Charlie Ford is as true as steel.
Jesse
James as (allegedly) quoted by Frank Triplett
He pulled off his pistols and got up
on a chair to dust off some picture frames, and I drew my pistol and
shot him.
Bob Ford quoted by Triplett at the inquest into the death of Jesse James
I
am always at a loss to know how much to believe of my own stories.
Washington Irving, American author, born on April 3, 1783, Tales of
a Traveler, 1824
I
don't go upstairs to bed two nights out of seven, without taking
Washington Irving under my arm.
Charles Dickens
I will not go on bended knee before any man nor kiss the ring of any
Pope.
Chummy Fleming, English-born Australian activist, born on April 3,
1863
The moral
force of Fascism, appearing in totally different forms in different
nations, may be the inspiration for the next general march of Mankind.
Henry R Luce, American
publisher, born on April 3, 1898
I am all
for titillating trivialities. I am all for the epic touch. I could
almost say that everything in Time should be either titillating or
epic or starkly, supercurtly factual.
Henry R Luce
There are
men who can write poetry, and there are men who can read balance
sheets. The men who can read balance sheets cannot write.
Henry R Luce
Of
necessity, we made the discovery that it is easier to turn poets into
business journalists than to turn bookkeepers into writers.
Henry R Luce
Time
should make enemies and Life should make friends.
Henry R Luce
Business,
more than any other occupation, is a continual dealing with the
future; it is a continual calculation, an instinctive exercise in
foresight.
Henry R Luce
Publishing
is a business, but journalism never was and is not essentially a
business. Nor is it a profession.
Henry R Luce
Marlon Brando is
planning on having pressed turkey for his birthday. It was regular
turkey before he sat on it.
Joan
Rivers; Brando
was born on April 3, 1924
Acting is the expression of a
neurotic impulse. It's a bum's life. . . The principal benefit
acting has afforded me is the money to pay for my psychoanalysis.
Marlon Brando, 1960
Our joint message is not directed to any one country but to modern man everywhere. We have shown that the ancient people in Mesopotamia, the Indus Valley and Egypt could have built man's earliest civilizations through the benefit of mutual contact with the primitive vessels at their disposal 5,000 years ago. Culture arose through intelligent and profitable exchange of thoughts and products.
Today we burn our proud ship, though the sails and rigging are still up and the vessel is in perfect shape, to protest against inhuman elements in the world of 1978 to which we have come back as we reach land after sailing the open seas. Now we are forced to stop at the entrance to the Red Sea. Surrounded by military airplanes and warships from the world's most civilized and developed nations, we have been denied permission by friendly governments, for reasons of security, to land anywhere, but in the tiny, and still neutral, Republic of Djibouti. Elsewhere around us, brothers and neighbors are engaged in homicide with means made available to them by those who lead humanity on our joint road into the third millennium.
To the innocent masses in all industrialized countries, we direct our appeal. We must wake up to the insane reality of our time, which to all of us has been reduced to mere unpleasant headlines in the news. We are all irresponsible, unless we demand from the responsible decision makers that modern armaments must no longer be made available to people whose former battle axes and swords our ancestors condemned.
Our planet is bigger than the reed bundles that have carried us across the seas, and yet small enough to run the same risks unless those of us still alive open our eyes and minds to the desperate need of intelligent collaboration to save ourselves and our common civilization from what we are about to convert into a sinking ship.
Thor Heyerdahl, Norwegian explorer; from
'Open Letter to UN Secretary-General
Waldheim', from the Republic of Djibouti, April 3, 1978
Source
Borders? I have never seen one. But I have heard they exist in the minds of most people.
Thor Heyerdahl
April
3 is
the 93rd
day of the year in the Gregorian Calendar (94th in leap years),
with 272 days remaining.
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Wayback Machine might help you
locate the original.
Feast day of St Richard de Wiche
(Richard Backedine, of Wyche;
Richard of Chichester)
Bishop of Chichester, England (1245 - 1253)
This Saint Richard (b. Droitwich
1197; d. Dover
1253) is remembered in a way that many of us would
like to be remembered: as a person of laughter. In Sussex, people punned
on his name: Ricardus, they said, stood for ridens, carus, dulcis
– "laughing, dear, sweet".
Born about 1197 at Wiche (or Droitwich),
near Worcester, England, Richard de Wiche was the second son of Richard
and Alice de Wyche. When his parents died, Richard and his brother
and sister came under the care of guardians who mismanaged the property
and squandered the income.
He studied at Oxford (where he and two student friends had
only one cloak for the three of them and had to take turns at attending
lectures), and also at Paris and Bologna. He was consecrated Bishop of Chichester,
West
Sussex, England, in 1245, against the wishes of Henry
III, who seized his assets.
Richard might have been sincere, but he also must have
been unctuous,
as there was a miraculous flow of unction
(sacred oil) at his consecration. He restored three dead people to life,
and after his death, miracles were done at his tomb. A prayer to him after
his death brought a still-born baby to life, and simply by touching his
clothes, the ill could be cured.
In April 1253, he was in Dover
to consecrate a church dedicated to St Edmund Rich,
his former Archbishop, but died of a fever the next day. He was buried in
the same magnificent tomb he had built for Edmund, though in 1276 his body
was translated to Chichester
Cathedral, where it became the next most
popular place of pilgrimage in Britain, after Canterbury. Until,
that is, it was destroyed in 1538
by order of King Henry
VIII, when
Richard's bones were probably thrown away, though some are said to have found their way to
Rome where they remain.
Once, a student at Oxford University had a pet blackbird, a
beautiful songster that gave its master great pleasure. This student
refused to give it to a friend of his who was jealous of it. In a rage,
the 'friend' cut out the bird's tongue while the owner was away from
home. The bird-lover returned home, only to find the poor bird miserable
and mute. In great sadness, he prayed to Saint Richard, who had so enjoyed
the singing of birds and had been Chancellor of the University.
Immediately, the tale goes, the bird was healed and began to sing.
In art, the laughing saint is generally shown as a
bishop, with a chalice, blessing his people, because he once dropped the
chalice during a Mass, but the wine did not spill from it. Or, so it is said.
In 1262, he was canonized at Viterbo by Pope Urban IV.
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Lazarus Saturday
Nagasaki Takoage, or Kite-Flying Event
In 1907, according to American anarchist