Dinesh's photos with the keyword: Table

Kettle, container and green tea morning after morning my tea tastes better… falling mist ~ Ryan MacMichael www.tching.com/2012/12/tea-haiku

Having picked some tea, he drank it, Then he sprouted wings, And flew to a fairy mansion, To escape the emptiness of the world.... ~Chiao Jen

We drink over 150 million cups of tea a day in Britain, but there is no special time for the nation's favourite drink. British people will drink tea all day whether morning, noon or night (my mother makes her first cup at 6 am!). ... The best time for a tea break is mid-morning around 11 or mid-afternoon around 3. THE ABOVE EXCERPT IS FROM GOOGLE SEARCH

That place that does contain My books, the best companions, is to me A glorious court, where hourly I converse With the old sages and philosophers; And sometimes, for variety, I confer With kings and emperors, and weigh their counsels; Calling their victories, if unjustly got, Unto a strict account, and, in my fancy, Deface their ill-placed statues. ~Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher

Between the computer, a pencil, and a typewriter half my day passes. One day it will be half a century. I live in strange cities and sometimes talk with strangers about matters strange to me. I listen to music a lot: Bach, Mahler, Chopin, Shostakovich. I see three elements in music: weakness, power, and pain. The fourth has no name. I read poets, living and dead, who teach me tenacity, faith, and pride. I try to understand the great philosophers--but usually catch just scraps of their precious thoughts. I like to take long walks on Paris streets and watch my fellow creatures, quickened by envy, anger, desire; to trace a silver coin passing from hand to hand as it slowly loses its round shape (the emperor's profile is erased). Beside me trees expressing nothing but a green, indifferent perfection. Black birds pace the fields, waiting patiently like Spanish widows. I'm no longer young, but someone else is always older. I like deep sleep, when I cease to exist, and fast bike rides on country roads when poplars and houses dissolve like cumuli on sunny days. Sometimes in museums the paintings speak to me and irony suddenly vanishes. I love gazing at my wife's face. Every Sunday I call my father. Every other week I meet with friends, thus proving my fidelity. My country freed itself from one evil. I wish another liberation would follow. Could I help in this? I don't know. I'm truly not a child of the ocean, as Antonio Machado wrote about himself, but a child of air, mint and cello and not all the ways of the high world cross paths with the life that--so far-- belongs to me. "Self Portrait" ~ Adam Zagajewski

Today, it's hard to imagine computer owners in the United States and other developed countries abandoning for thin clients. { www.igel.com/us/ } Many of us, after all, have dozens or even hundreds of gigabytes of date on our personal hard drives, including hefty music and video files. But once utility services mature, the idea of getting rid of your PC will become much more attractive. At that point, each of us will have access to virtually unlimited online storage as well as a rich array of software services. We'll also be tapping into the Net through many different devises, from mobile phones to televisions, and we'll want to have all of them share our data and applications. Having our files and software locked into our PC's hard drive will be an unnecessary nuisance. Companies like Google and Yahoo will likely be eager to supply with all-purpose utility services, possibly including thin-client devices, for free - in return for the privilege of showing us advertisements. We may find, twenty or so years from now, that the personal computer has become a museum piece, a reminder of a curious time when all of were forced to be amateur computer technicians. ~ Page 80 - 81 (BIG SWITCH)

The oldest form of theater is the dinner table. It's got five or six people, new show every night, same players. Good ensemble; the people have worked together a lot. Michael J Fox

......................... When in the breakfast-room we meet, At the social table round, Listening to the lively sound Of those notes which never tire, Of urn, or kettle on the fire. ..................... Except: "Breakfast" ~ Mary Lamb