We're just setting up the shot, but check out that It's like always the case that some doggies pee on our bike I don't know bumblebee is like mistaken as a tree So we've got some leftovers from last night's dinner Got some meatballs got some chips got some cheese and bread Yeah, I just cut it up and we have it for breakfast now. Oh, yes Well, it's a really late breakfast because it's already like 11 20 or something like that. Yeah, we had a really good sleep I had a sleep score of 88 Okay, who you we're gonna hit it. We're right Just about all right. Yep, that'll do it We'll travel the doggy, please don't kill him So small Okay ready to rock and roll totally I like that answer Oh wait a minute Morning guys welcome back to our Guinness World Record attempt to become the youngest pair to circumnavigate the globe by motorcycle We're here in the town of Zestaphony In Georgia and we had a really late start to the day a really nice relaxing start to the day you could say Yes, oh my god, I think we were sleeping in until 9 30 9 30 yeah, yeah Sunday style. Yes, we are nicely refreshed ready to hit the roads of Georgia again So let me show you guys where we're heading today. So we are here and today We're gonna be riding first to visit the Gelati Monastery and then the Prometheus cave natural monument somewhere around here Before making our way down and across towards the Black Sea coast We have two main points of interest on the agenda today The first is a UNESCO World Heritage Site monastery now. I know we've seen Already a couple of monasteries here in Georgia, but this one is supposed to be like the monastery to see it's called the Gelati Monastery and after that we'll be heading to a cave called the Prometheus cave I don't know why it's called the Prometheus cave, but I'm sure when we get there. We're gonna find out more Yes, so our first point of interest is about 30 miles away Google Maps says it will take us 45 minutes and it's already yeah 12 o'clock. So better hit the road. Let's go So I think I can see the Gelati Monastery up on the top of the hill there. I have no idea how we get up there So the police officer here just stopped us Before we got to the monastery which is up there on the top of the hill and he said it's it's too busy up the top So you guys have to park here. So it looks like we've got a little bit of a walk now. Oh, no No, we too spoiled by bumblebee a Bumblebee take us to the top. So the police officer just told us that it's actually now free up there We can take bumblebee to the top By bumblebee, well, we managed to park like so close. I'm so happy that we don't have to walk So on the monasteries here we have to Dress up with a skirt luckily they have some skirts here for you to take. I'm going with a black skirt today It's a good look So this is the impressive Gelati Monastery built in 1106 It's considered one of the masterpieces of the Georgian Golden Age the period between the 11th and 13th centuries It's one of the largest orthodox monasteries in existence and at the time it was a center for science and education It's now a UNESCO World Heritage Site despite the fact that we saw quite a few other monasteries in Georgia This is the one to visit. This is the king of the Georgian monasteries Well, I think it's the quality of the frescoes here inside the monastery that make it really really special It's just so detailed every single wall you look at has such beautiful drawings And I think a lot of them are original from the Middle Ages nearly a thousand years old Wow some kind of view from the monastery. Hey That's a beautiful place to put a monastery. It's just so lush and green with the hills here. It's amazing I'm really impressed with Georgia. It's a beautiful country There's like a huge like military parade going on here or something look how many military people are here They're everywhere, so we decided probably not to fly the drone here Mark probably would but he's living on the edge Three two one nice little experience. Hey, yeah, definitely worth a visit because each monastery You know they each have their own thing. You know the first one we visited they made wine, which was really cool What's tasty and then the second one over the reservoir But this one UNESCO World Heritage Site with such beautiful frescoes on the inside look all cars are gone now here Yeah, everyone's gone. Everyone's gone. They've all gone off to the cave that we're about to go to So now our second point of interest for the day the Prometheus cave is 42 minutes ride 18 miles away Fill in bumblebee up with some what I think is 92 octane fuel and it's a 282 per liter And we know that it's around 330 to the pound. So it's like maybe 90 pence 85 pence per liter The charming cobbling is back the charming and bumpy cobbling. Yeah, look at this building here. That's nice This is nice here. Yeah Look at this place. Wow. Oh my god. This is like the first McDonald's I've seen in ages. Well. Oh, yeah. Yeah Okay parking, okay Okay Geez it's bread and cheese everybody So this is actually a dish called kachapuri and it's kind of like a pizza to be honest, but it's a Georgian speciality. It's a Georgian pizza, which basically means that there's no tomato So but we still have a little bit meat left over as well from yesterday's dinner I will just cut it up now and then sprinkle it on top of the pizza kachapuri Oh kachapuri. Sorry. It's just one meatball and then one pork thing And we've still got some chips left over as well, so it's gonna be a feast of a lunch So the cheese is actually the kind of in the middle not on the top hmm. It was very cheesy very cheesy Bye bumblebee. So we've had a nice kachapuri lunch now. It's time to do what we came here for to go and explore a beautiful cave So you can visit the cave in two different ways Either just walking or you walk for one kilometers and then you take a boat So we decided to take the boat boat trip Descending down Down into the jungle and to the underground different world here So this cave was discovered in 1984 but it's estimated to be 20 million years old these formations at the top of the cave are called Stalic tights these formations from the bottom are called Stalic mites and when they're fusion together It's called Stalic knights So the cave has 17 holes of which six of them are open to the public Just like this one and our guide just told us that it's 96% humidity Inside the cave and it's 14 degrees. She says that it's actually really good for people with asthma or breathing problems It's 21% oxygen healthy air Wow, it's so impressive here. We have seen already it quite a few caves, but this is like really high up there It's huge and beautiful So you remember we were talking about the boat trip so we get picked up here. Hopefully look how cool that is That's amazing The water is cold Very cold Don't narrow here and the captain he's just like making his way through so it's like he's really really trained Skills a probe. Yes. It's so unbelievable be cool That was a hell of a boat ride that was definitely where The extra I think five pounds for the boat ticket. That was so cool. So cool Back to the bike Bumblebees alive Still here waiting for us patiently. It's time to get sweaty.  Yeah, wow they managed to you know enhance this place even more by Actually when you reach a sort of a hole that played like really amazing music It was like well, I just want to have a dance here You know in the cave you could do like a wedding and a dance inside the caves that means so cool So cool. Yeah, it was a really really big cave system actually and the real cave system is much larger than what we saw We just saw six out of 17 caves and it was already like over a kilometer walk and a boat trip Yeah, it was so worth it so worth it So now we've got a bit of a ride because we are heading to the black sea coast The aim is that we reach today the city of Batumi, but I don't know if we will make it It's another 90 miles to reach there and Google Maps says it will take us two hours and 40 minutes It's now five o'clock and we don't really want to ride in the dark, but yeah, we see how we get on Yeah, we'll ride as far as we can and then when it starts getting dark We'll have to find a place to stay. Yes, but man this part of Georgia is just incredible I saw as well banana trees and cactuses, you know, it's like so sort of tropical. It's green. It's lush. There's a winding road It's great Good afternoon. Good afternoon. Good afternoon, Mr. Cao. Good afternoon. Good afternoon. There's a whole herd coming down the road Get out the way get out the way Oh That's cool. Whose idea was this come on own up What is he holding there? There's like a stick a stick to say yep, you can go train no worries. Oh, okay The train driver can see it and go. Oh, that's nice. It's funny train. Look at that. It's like It's literally a two carriages. Yeah Crazy, okay. Oh My lord, look at this guy Why is it I don't understand Anyway, we are on our way And the estimation is that we will get there just before sunset So I think we will make it to Batumi before the end of the day Or I don't like metal bridges. At least it's not raining. Yeah Exactly But there are literally cows all along this road just everywhere Georgia is the country of the cows currently so Oh, this is horses. Oh, these ones are horses Cool. Hello horses. Hello guys Hello everyone. Hello Nice beautiful. Wow There it is We have finally officially made it to the Black Sea. Wow It's beautiful here. Look at this building. Oh, that looks nice. It's like a castle made of bricks So we will check out a place We found on MapsMe. It's a little bit before the city starts actually but we run out of internet And we can't really check anything on booking.com. Okay and 0.4 to the right here To the right. Yeah You can't no there's no road to the right This is the ocean. Yes. Yeah, you're right. No. No, I think this place Must be either on the left side or it doesn't exist Oh, okay. So that was it. Yeah, gone. Okay. So this didn't work out as planned. So let's check out the place from Ioverlander, a hostel that's 3.3 miles. Oh, kidoki. Maybe we are more lucky with the next place Amazing to think that on the other side of this sea is Bulgaria and Bulgaria is like Still so far away. No This is already Europe made it to the Black Sea This is a milestone. This is the next sea. Yes. First it was the Caspian Then the Black Sea and then it'll be the Mediterranean. Yes. Oh, yes Getting closer and closer. Yeah, so I can tell you my bump is hurting Oh my god. Oh, look they have a cable car here as well. Hey, there you go Nice. It actually seems like a really beautiful city Really beautiful. Look at the buildings That looks so charming. So basically we're going left here in the hostels just up there Oh, look at this street. Crazy. This looks like a fairytale street. I really hope that they're parking for us Normally it says our parking for motorcyclists is all right. Okay. So I mean, I don't know I guess we're going on the curb. I guess Glovers. Yeah, let's check it out Yeah, I mean You can jump off. I'll stay here in case I have to go because of a car. Okay. Okay A few moments later. So that place didn't have any parking for us so We found a place on booking.com which is only 2.4 miles away Just on the other side of the city. How much was that place? 16 pounds 16 pounds. Yeah for a room. Yeah, it's a good price. It's not bad. Hey, yeah I was just looking like for the cheapest Place now we've just got to try to get through Rush hour traffic to get there All right. Yep. This is it. Yeah, cool Ta-da City view, baby Hello, hello Cool, look at that We made it. Happy and alive And a little bit exhausted. It was a full-on day with a lot of nice experiences. I love the caves so much Wow, let's try out the bed and see if it's comfortable Oh It's not too bad. Yeah, this will do fine 16 pounds.  Very friendly upgrades. Yes There we go then But it's so funny because check that out. They have a sink And a kettle and sort of like a kitchen thing. Oh look There's a hot plate. Yes, you could even like start cooking here like seriously normally in hotels They don't have stuff like that But wow Yeah, some bread and eggs maybe tomorrow for breakfast day and then the bathroom The tiling Very nice I'm impressed But anyway, it was a long day and it's time for a good rest. So that's it from us today We hope you enjoyed the video. If so, please give us a thumbs up Subscribe to the channel share the video with your friends and family comment below and we will see you next time So I will show you our dinner for tonight noodles And then really cool. I'm just frying up some Potatoes, how cool is that? I think every hotel should have their own like cooking equipment always there. I think it's great


Chapter 5 of the Posey Ring, a book of verse for children by various authors. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Hiawatha's Brothers' Poems Of all beasts he learned the language, learned their names and all their secrets. How the beavers built their lodges, where the squirrels hid their acorns. How the reindeer ran so swiftly, why the rabbit was so timid, talked with them when ere he met them, called them Hiawatha's Brothers. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow My Pony My Pony tossed his sprightly head, and would have smiled if smile he could. To thank me for the slice of bread. He thinks so delicate and good. His eye is very bright and wild. He looks as if he loved me so, although I only am a child. And he's a real horse, you know. How charming it would be to rear, and have hind legs to balance on, of hay and oats within the year, to leisurely devour a ton. To stoop my head and quench my drowth, with water in a lovely pail. To wear a snaffle in my mouth, fling back my ears and slash my tail. To gallop madly round a field, who tries to catch me is a goose, and then with dignity to yield my stately back for rider's use. To feel as only horses can, when matters take their proper course. And no one notices the man, while loud applauses greet the horse. He canters fast or aimless slow, and either is a pretty game. His duties are but pleasures, O. I wish that mine were just the same. Lessons would be another thing, if I might turn from book and scroll, and learn to gallop round a ring, as he did when a little fall. It must be charming to be shod, and beautiful beyond my praise, when tired of rolling on the sod. To stand upon all fours in grays. Alas, my dreams are weak and wild, I must not ape my better soul. Alas, I only am a child, and he's a real horse, you know. A. On a spaniel called Bo, killing a young bird, July 15th, 1793. A spaniel, Bo, that fares like you, while fed and at his ease, should wiser be than to pursue each trifle that he sees.  Nor did you kill that you might eat, and ease a dawgish pain. For him, though chased with furious heat, you left where he was slain. For was he of the fetish sort, or one whom blood allures? But innocent was all his sport, whom you have torn for yours. My dawg, what remedy remains, since teach you all I can. I see you after all my pains, so much resemble men. William Cowper. Sir, when I flew to seize the bird, in spite of your command, a louder voice than yours I heard, and harder to withstand. You cried forbear, but in my breast, a mightier cried, Proceed, twas nature, sir, whose strong behest, impelled me to the deed. But much as nature I respect, I ventured once to break, as you perhaps may recollect, her precept for your sake. And when your linnet, on a day passing his prison door, had fluttered all his strafe away, and panting pressed the floor. Allowing him a sacred thing, not destined to my tooth. I only kissed his ruffled wing, and let the feathers smooth. Let my obedience then excuse, my disobedience now. For some reproof your self-refuse, from your aggrieved bowow. If killing birds be such a crime, which I can hardly see. But thank you, sir, of killing time, with verse addressed to me. William Cowper. Seal lullaby. O hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us, and black are the waters that sparkle so green. The moon or the cobras looks downward to find us, at rest in the hollows that rustle between. Your billow meets billow, their soft bee thy pillow, a weary wee flippering curl at thy ease. The storm shall not wake thee, nor shark overtake thee, asleep in the arms of the slow-swinging seas. But you're kippling. Milking time. When the cows come home, the milk is coming, honeys made while the bees are humming. Duck and drink on the rushy lake, and the deer live safe in the breezy break.  Christina G. Rosetti. Thank you, pretty cow. Thank you, pretty cow, that made pleasant milk to soak my bread. Every day and every night, warm and fresh, and sweet and white. Do not chew the hemlock rank, growing on the weedy bank, but the yellow cow slip eat, that will make it very sweet. Where the purple violet grows, where the bubbling water flows, where the grass is fresh and fine, pretty cow, go there and dine. Jane Taylor. The boy and the sheep. Lazy sheep, pray tell me why, in the pleasant field you lie, eating grass and daisies white, from the morning till the night. Everything can something do, but what kind of use are you? Nay, my little master, nay, do not serve thee, so I pray.  Cold ah, very cold you'd be, if you had not wool from me. True it seems a pleasant thing, nipping daisies in the spring, but what chilly nights I pass, on the cold and dewy grass, or pick my scanty dinner where, all the ground is brown and bare. Then the farmer comes at last, when the merry spring is past, cuts my woolly fleece away, for your coat in wintry day. Little master this is why, in the pleasant fields I lie. Anne Taylor. Lams in the meadow. O little lambs, the month is cold, the sky is very gray. You shiver in the misty grass, and bleed at all the winds that pass. Wait, when I'm big some day, I'll build a roof to every fold.  I'm sure that, if God knew, he'd let the lambs be born in May. Lawrence Alma Tadima. The pet lamb. The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink. I heard a voice, it said, drink, pretty creature drink, and looking o'er the hedge before me I aspired, a snow-white mountain lamb with a maiden at its side. Nor sheep nor kind were near, the lamb was all alone, and by a slender cord was tethered to a stone. With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel, while to that mountain lamb she gave its evening meal. The lamb, while from her hand he thus supper took, seemed to feast with head and ears, and his tail with pleasure shook. Drink, pretty creature drink, she said, in such a tone that I almost received her heart into my own.  I watched them with the light, they were a lovely pair. Now with her empty can the maiden turned away, but ere ten yards were gone her footsteps did she stay. Right toward the lamb she looked, and from a shady place I, unobserved, could see the workings of her face, if nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring, thus fought I to her lamb, that little maid might sing. What ails thee, young one, what, why pull so at thy cord? Is it not well with thee, well, both for bed and board? Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be. Rest little one, rest, what is it that ails thee? What is it thou wouldest seek, what is wanting to thy heart? Thy limbs art they not strong, and beautiful thou art. This grass is tender grass, these flowers they have no peers, and that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears. If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woolen chain. This beach is standing by, its covert thou canst gain. For rain and mountain storms, the like thou needest not fear. The rain and storm are things that scarcely can come here. Rest little one, rest, thou hast forgot the day. When my father found thee first, in places far away, many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned by none, and thy mother from thy side, for ever more was gone. He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home. A blessed day for thee, then wither wouldst thou roam. A faithful nurse thou hast, the dam that did thee yearn. Upon the mountaintops no kinder could have been. And I was known that twice a day I have brought thee in this can. Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran. And twice in the day, when the ground was wet with dew, I bring three draughts of milk, warm milk it is and new. Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now. Then I'll yoke thee to my cart, like a pony to the plow. My plain-mate thou shall be, and when the wind is cold, our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy fold. It will not, will not rest, poor creature, can it be, that tis thy mother's heart, which is working so in thee. Things that I know not of be like to thee, our dear, and dreams of things which thou canst neither see nor hear. Alas the mountaintops that look so green and fair, I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there.  Here though needest not dread the raven in the sky, night and day though art safe, our cottage is hard-buy. Why bleat so after me, why pull so at thy chain, sleep, and at break of day I will come to thee again. As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet, this song to myself did I often times repeat, and it seemed, as I retrace the ballot line by line, that but half of it was hers and one half of it was mine. Again and once again did I repeat the song. Today, said I, more than half to the damsel must belong, for she looked with such a look, and she spake with such a tone, that I almost received her heart into my own, Williams Wordsworth. The Kitten and Falling Leaves See the kitten on the wall, sporting with the leaves that fall, withered leaves one, two, and three, from the lofty elder tree, through the calm and frosty air of this morning bright and fair, itting round and round they sink, softly slowly one might think, from the motions that are made, every little leaf conveyed, self or fairy hither tending, to this lower world descending, each invisible and mute, in his wavering parachute, but the kitten how she starts, crouches, stretches, pause and darts, first at one and then it's fellow, just as light and just as yellow, there are many now, now one, now they stop and there are none, with intensless of desire, in her upward eye of fire, with a tiger leap halfway, now she meets the coming prey, let it go as fast and then, has it in her power again, now she works with three or four, like an Indian conjurer, quick as he, in feats of art, far beyond in joy of heart. William Wordsworth End of Chapter 5, Recording by Linda-Marie Nielsen, Vancouver, B.C. Chapter 6 of The Posey Ring, A Book of Verse for Children, by various authors. This LibriVox Recording is in the Public Domain, Recording by Linda-Marie Nielsen, Vancouver, B.C. Other Little Children, Palms If thou couldest know thine own sweetness, O little one, perfect and sweet, Thou wouldest be a child for ever, Peter whilst uncomplete, Francis Turner, Paul Grave. Where go the boats? Dark brown is the river, golden is the sand, it flows along forever, with trees on either hand, green leaves afloating, castles of the foam, boats of mine aboating, where will all come home, on goes the river, and out past the mill, away down the valley, away down the hill, away down the river, a hundred miles or more. Other little children shall bring my boats ashore, Robert Louis Stevenston.  Who that air could understand the rare structure of a hand, with its branching fingers fine, work itself of hands divine, strong yet delicately knit, for ten thousand uses fit, interlaid with so clear skin, you may see the blood within. Who this hand would choose to cover, with a crust of dirt all over, till it looked in hue and shape like the forefoot of an ape, man or boy that works or plays in the fields, or the highways, may without a fence or hurt, from the soil contract a dirt, which the next clear spring or river washes out and out forever, but to cherish stains impure, soil deliberate, to endear, on the skin to fix a stain, till it works into the grain, argues a degenerate mind, soared, slothful, ill inclined, wanting in that self-respect, which does virtue best protect, all endearing, cleanliness, virtue next to godliness, easier, cheaper, needful, duty, to the body, health and beauty, who that's human would refuse it, when a little water does it, Charles and Mary Lamb. Wishing Ring-ting, I wish I were a primrose, a bright yellow primrose blowing in the spring, the sloping bow above me, the wandering bee to love me, the fern and moss to creep across, and the elm tree for our king, nay, stay, I wish I were an elm tree, a great lofty elm tree, with green leaves gay, the winds would set them dancing, the sun and moonshine glanced in, and birds would house among the boughs, and sweetly sing, oh no, I wish I were a robin, a robin or a little wren, everywhere to go, through forest field or garden, and ass no leave or pardon, till winter comes with icy thumbs to ruffle up our wing. Well, tell, where should I fly to? Where go sleep in the dark wood or dell? Before the day was over, home must come the rover, for mother's kiss sweeter this than any other thing. William Allingham The Boy The boy from his bedroom window looked over the little town, and away to the bleak black upland, under a clouded moon. The moon came forth from her cavern, he saw the sudden gleam of a tarn in the swarthy moonland, or perhaps the whole was a dream, for I never could find that water in all my walks and rides, for off in the land of memory that midnight pool abides. Many fine things had I glimpse of, and said, I shall find them one day. Whether within or without me, they were, I cannot say. William Allington Infant Joy I have no dame, I am but two days old, what shall I call thee? I happy am, joy is my name. Sweet joy befall thee, pretty joy, sweet joy but two days old, sweet joy I call thee. Thou dost smile, I sing thee while, sweet joy befall thee. William Blake A blessing for the blessed. When the sun has left the hilltop, and the daisy fringe is furled, when the birds from wood and meadow in their hidden nests are curled, then I think of all the babies that are sleeping in the world. There are babies in the high lands, and babies in the low. There are pale ones wrapped in furry skins, on the margin of the snow, and brown ones naked in the aisles, where all the spices grow, and some are in the palace, on a white and downy bed, and some are in the garret, with a clout beneath their head, and some are on the cold-heart earth, whose mothers have no bread.  Alma Tadama Piping down the valley's wild Piping down the valley's wild, piping songs of pleasant glee, on a cloud I saw a child, and he, laughing, said to me, pipe a song about a lamb, so I pipe with merry cheer, pipe, pipe that song again, so I piped, he wept to hear, drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe, sing thy songs of a happy cheer, so I sang the same again, while we wept with joy to hear. Piper sit thee down and write, in a book that all may read, so he vanished from my sight, and I plucked a hollow reed, and I made a rural pen, and I stained the water clear, and I wrote my happy songs, every child may joy to hear. William Blake A sleeping child, lips lips open, up comes a little bird that lives inside, up comes a little bird, and peeps, and out he flies, all the day he sits inside, and sometimes he sings, up he comes and out he goes, at night to spread his wings, little bird, little bird, wither will you go, round about the world while nobody can know, little bird, little bird, wither do you flee, far away round the world while nobody can see, little bird, little bird, how long will you roam, all round the world and around again home, round the world, round the world and back through the air, when the morning comes the little bird is there, back comes the little bird and looks and in he flies, up wakes the little boy and opens both his eyes, sleep, sleep little boy, little birds away, little bird will come again by the peep of day, sleep, sleep little boy, little bird must go, round about the world while nobody can know, sleep, sleep sound little bird goes round, round and round he goes, sleep, sleep sound, Arthur Hugh clow, birdies with broken wings, birdies with broken wings hide from each other, but babies in trouble can run home to mother, Mary mates dodge, seven times one, exultation, there's no dew left on the daisies and clover, there's no rain left in heaven, I've said by seven times over and over, seven times one are seven, I am old so old I can write a letter, my birthday lessons are done, the lambs play always, they know no better, they are only one times one, oh moon in the night I have seen you sailing and shining so round and low, you were bright, aw bright, but your light is failing, you are nothing now but a bowl, you moon have you done something wrong in heaven, that God has hidden your face, I hope if you have you will soon be forgiven and shine again in your place, oh velvet bee you're a dusty fellow, you've powdered your legs with gold, oh brave marsh, merry buds rich and yellow, give me your money to hold, oh columbine open your folded wrapper, where two twin turtledoves dwell, oh cuckoo pint, toll me the purple clapper that hangs in your clear green bell, and show me your nest with the young ones in it, I will not steal them away, I am old, you may trust me, linnet linnet, I am seven times one today, jean ingolo, I remember, I remember, I remember, I remember, the house where I was born, the little window where the sun came peeping in at morn, he never came a wink too soon nor brought too long a day, but now I often wish the night had borne my breath away, I remember, I remember, the roses red and white, the violets and the billy cups, those flowers made of light, the linux where the robin built, and where my brother set, the laburnum on his birthday, the tree is living yet, I remember, I remember, where I was used to swing, and though the air must rush as fresh to swallows on the wing, my spirit flew in feathers then that is so heavy now, and summer pools could hardly cool the fever on my brow, I remember, I remember, the fir trees dark and high, I used to think their slender tops were close against the sky, it was a childish ignorance, but now this little joy, to know I'm farther off from heaven than when I was a boy, Thomas Hood, good night and good morning, a fair little girl sat under a tree, sewing as long as her eyes could see, then smoothed her work and folded it right, and said, dear work, good night, such a number of rooks came over her head, crying, ca, ca, on their way to bed, she said as she watched their curious flight, little black things, good night, good night. The horses' naid and the oxen-load, the sheep's bleep-bleed came over the road, all seeming to say with a quiet delight, good little girl, good night, good night. She did not say to the sun, good night, though she saw him there like a ball of light, for she knew he had God's own time to keep, all over the world and never could sleep. The tall pink fox-glove bowed his head, the violets curtsied and went to bed, and good little Lucy tied up her hair, and said on her knees her favorite prayer, and while on her pillow she softly lay, she knew nothing more till again it was day, and all things said to the beautiful sun, good morning, good morning, our work is begun. Lord Houghton, Richard Moncton Milms, little children, sporting through the forest-wide, playing by the waterslide, wandering o'er the heathy-fells, down within the woodland dels, all among the mountains wild, dwelleth many a little child, in the barren's hall of pride, by the poor man's dull fireside, mid the mighty, mid the mean, little children may be seen, like the flowers that spring up fair, bright and countless everywhere, in the fair aisles of the main, in the desert's lonely domain, in the savage mountain-glenn, among the tribes a swarthy men, where so ere the sun has shone, on a league of peopled ground, little children may be found, blessings on them they in me move a kindly sympathy, with their wishes, hopes and fears, with their laughter and their tears, with their wonder so intense, and their small experience, little children not alone, on the wide earth, are ye known, mid its labours and its cares, mid its sufferings and its snares, free from sorrow, free from strife, in the world of love and life, where no sinful thing hath trod, in the presence of your God, spotless, blameless, glorified, little children ye abide, Mary Howet, the angels whisper, a baby was sleeping, its mother was weeping, for her husband was far on the wild raging sea, and the tempest was swelling, round the fisherman's dwelling, and she cried, Dermot darling, oh come back to me! Her beads while she numbered, the baby still slumbered, and smiled on her face as she bended her knee, oh bless be that warning, thy sweet sleep adorning, for I know that the angels are whispering to thee, and while they are keeping, bright watch or thy sleeping, oh pray to them softly, my baby with me, and say thou wouldest rather, they'd watch or thy father, for I know that the angels are whispering to thee, the dawn of the morning saw Dermot returning, and the wife wept with joy her babes father to see, and closely caressing her child with a blessing said, I knew that the angels were whispering to thee, Samuel lover, little Gareen, where do the stars grow, little Gareen, the garden amoons is, it far away, the orchard of suns, my little Gareen, will you take us there some day, if you shut your eyes, quoth little Gareen, I will show you the way to go, to the orchard of suns and the garden amoons and the field where the stars do grow, but you must speak soft, quoth little Gareen, and still must your footsteps be, for a great bear prowls in the field of stars and amoons they have meant to see, and the suns have the children of signs to guard, and they have no pity at all, you must not stumble, you must not speak, when you come to the orchard wall, the gates are locked, quoth little Gareen, but the way I'm going to tell, the key of your heart it will open them all, and theirs where the darlings dwell, Sir Gilbert Parker, a letter to Lady Margaret Cavendish Halls Harley, when a child, my noble lovely little Peggy, let this my first epistle beg ye, at dawn of morn and close of even, to lift your heart and hands to heaven, in double duty say your prayer, our father first, then notre-père, and dearer's child, along the day, in everything you do and say, Obey and please my lord and lady, so God shall love an angel's aid ye, if to these precepts you attend, no second letter need I send, and so I rest your constant friend. Matthew Pryor, Love and the Child, Toys and treats and pleasures pass, like a shadow in a glass, like the smoke that mounts on high, like a noonday's butterfly, quick they come and quick they end, like the money that I spend, some to-day, to-morrow more, short like those that went before. Mother, fold me to your knees, how much should I care for these, little joys that come and go, if you did not love me so? And when things are sad or wrong, then I know that love is strong, when I ache or when I weep, then I know that love is Father, now my prayer is said, lay your hand upon my head, pleasures pass from day to day, but I know that love will stay, while I sleep it will be near, I shall wake and find it here, I shall feel it in the air, when I say my morning prayer. Maker of this little heart, Lord of love, I know thou art, little heart, though thou forget, still the love is round thee set, William Bright he rands, Polly, brown eyes, straight nose, dirt pies, rumple clothes, torn books, spoilt toys, arch looks, unlike a boy's, little rages, obvious arts, three her ages, cakes, tarts, falling down off chairs, breaking crown downstairs, catching flies on the pain, deep sighs, cause not plain, bribing you with kisses, for a few farthing blisses, wide awake, as you hear, mercy seek, quiet, dear, new shoes, new frock, vague views of what's o'clock, when it's time to go to bed, and scorn sublime for what is said, folded hands, saying prayers, understands not nor cares, thinks it odd, smiles away, yet may God hear her pray, bed gown white, kiss dolly, good night, that's Polly, fast asleep, as you see, heaven keep my girl for me, William Bright he rands, Achille, what can lambkins do, all the keen night through, nestle by their woolly mother, the careful oo, what can nestlings do, in the nightly dew, sleep beneath their mother's wing, till day breaks agnew, if in field or tree, there might only be such a warm, soft sleeping place, found for me, Christina G. Rosetti, a child's laughter, all the bells of heaven may ring, all the birds of heaven may sing, all the wells on earth may spring, all the winds on earth may bring, all sweet sounds together, sweeter far than all things heard, hand of harper, tone of bird, sound of woods at sundawn stirred, welling waters, winsome word, wind in warm, warm weather, one thing yet there is that none, hearing ear its chime be done, knows not well the sweetest one, heard of man beneath the sun, hoped in heaven hereafter, soft and strong in loud and light, very sound of very light, heard from morning's rosiest height, when the soul of all delight fills a child's clear laughter, golden bells of welcome rolled, never forth such note nor told, ours so blithe in tone so bold, as the radiant month of gold, here that rings forth heaven, if the golden-crested wren were a nightingale, why then, something seen and heard of men, might be half as sweet as when, laughs a child of seven, Algernon see swinburn, the world's music, the world's a very happy place, where every child should dance and sing, and always have a smiling face, and never sulk for anything, I waken when the mornings come, and feel the air and light alive, with strange sweet music like the hum of bees about their busy hive, the linets play among the leaves, at hide and seek, and chirp and sing, while flashing to and from the eaves, the swallows twitter on the wing, and twigs that shake and boughs that sway, and tall old trees you could not climb, and winds that come but cannot stay, are singing gaily all the time, from dawn to dark the old mill-wheel makes music going round and round, and dusty white with flour and meal, the miller whistles to its sound, the brook that flows beside the mill, as happy as a brook can be, go singing its old song until it learns the singing of the sea, for every wave upon the sands sings songs you never tire to hear, of laden ships from sunny lands where it is summer all the year, and if you listen to the rain, where leaves and birds and bees are dumb, you hear it pattering on the pain, like Andrew beating on his drum, the coals beneath the kettle-crune and clap their hands and dance in glee, and even the kettle hums a tune to tell you when it's time for tea. The world is such a happy place that children, whether big or small, should always have a smiling face, and never, never sulk at all. Gabriel Satune, the little land, when at home alone I sit, and am very tired of it, I have just to shut my eyes, to go sailing through the skies, to go sailing far away, to the pleasant land of play, to the fairy land afar, where the little people are, where the clover tops are trees, and the rain-pools are the seas, and the leaves like little ships sail a boat on tiny trips, and above the daisy tree, through the grasses, high or head the bumblebee hums and passes. In that forest to and fro, I can wander, I can go, I see the spider and the fly, and the ants go marching by, carrying parcels with their feet, down the green and grassy street, I can in the sorrel sit, where the ladybird alit, I can climb the jointed grass, and on high, see the greater swallows pass in the sky, and the round sun rolling by, heeding no such thing as I, through the forest I can pass, till, as in a looking glass, humming fly and daisy tree, and my tiny self I see, painted very clear and neat on the rain-pool at my feet, should a leaflet come to land, drifting near to where I stand, straight aboard that tiny boat round the rain-pool sea to float, little thoughtful creature sit on the grassy coast of it, little things with lovely eyes, see me sailing with surprise, some are clad in armor green, these have sure to battle being, some are pied with every hue, black and crimson, gold and blue, some have wings and swift are gone, but they all look kindly on, when my eyes I once again open and see all things plain, high bare walls, great bare floor, great big knobs on drawer and door, great big people perched on chairs, stitching tucks and mending tears, each a hill that I could climb and talking nonsense all the time, oh dear me that I could be, a sailor on the rain-pool sea, a climber in the clover tree, and just come back a sleepy head, late at night to go to bed, Robert Louis Stevenson, in a garden, baby see the flowers, baby sees, fairer things than these, fairer though they be than dreams of ours, baby hear the birds, baby knows, better songs than those, sweeter though they sound than sweetest words, baby see the moon, baby's eyes, laugh to watch it rise, answering light with love and night with noon, baby hear the sea, baby's face, takes a graver grace, touch with wonder what the sound may be, baby see the star, baby's hand, opens warm and bland, calm and claim of all things fair that are, baby hear the bells, baby's head, bows as ripe for bed, now the flowers curl round and close their cells, baby flower of light, sleep and sea, brighter dreams than we, till good days shall smile away good night, Algernon Charles Swinburne, Little Gustava, one, Little Gustava sits in the sun, safe in the porch, and the little drops run, from the icicles under the eaves so fast, for the bright spring sun shines warm at last, and glad is Little Gustava.  Ha ha, laughs Little Gustava.  Gustava feeds her, she begs for more, and a little brown hen walks in at the door, good day, cries Little Gustava.  Welcome, cries Little Gustava. Five, so dainty and eager they pick up the crumbs, but who is this through the doorway comes?  Ha ha, laughs Little Gustava. Six, you want some breakfast too?  Dear rags, says Little Gustava. Seven, waiting without stood, sparrow and crow, cooling their feet in the melting snow. Won't you come in, good folk, she cried, but they were too bashful and stood outside. Though prey come in, cried Gustava. Eight, so the last she threw them, and knelt on the mat with doves and bitty and dog and cat, and her mother came to the open house door.  My Mary, little Gustava. Nine, kitty and terrier, bitty and doves, all things harmless, Gustava loves. The shy kind creatures, tis joy to feed, and oh, her breakfast is sweet indeed. To happy, little Gustava. Celia, faxter.  The rosy mouth and rosy toe, a little baby brother, until about a month ago, had never met each other, but nowadays the neighbor's sweet, in every sort of weather, halfway with rosy fingers meet, to kiss and play together. John B. Tab. The child at Bethlehem. Long, long before the babe could speak, when he would kiss his mother's cheek, and to her bosom press, the brightest angel standing near, would turn away to hide a tear, for they are motherless. John B. Tab. After the storm, and when its force expended, the harmless storm was ended, and as the sunrise splendid came blushing o'er the sea, I thought, as day was breaking, my little girls were waking, and smiling and making, a prayer at home for me. Will you make peace, Thackery? Lucy Gray. oft I had heard of Lucy Gray, and when I crossed the wild, I chanced to see at break of day. The solitary child. No mate, no comrade, Lucy knew, she dwelt on a wide moor. The sweetest thing that ever grew beside a human door. You yet may spy the fawn at play, the hair upon the green, but the sweet face of Lucy Gray will never more be seen.  That father will, I gladly do, to scarcely afternoon. The minster clock has just struck two, and yonder is the moon.  He plied his work, and Lucy took the lantern in her hand. Not blither is the mountain row with many a want on strike. Her feet disperse the powdery snow that rises up like smoke. The storm came on before its time. She wandered up and down, and many a hill did Lucy climb, but never reached the town. The wretched parents all that night went shouting far and wide, but there was neither sound nor sight to serve them for a guide. A daybreak on a hill they stood that overlooked the moor, and thence they saw the bridge of wood, a furlong from their door. They wept and turning homeward cried, in heaven we all shall meet. When in the snow the mother spied the print of Lucy's feet. Then downwards from the steep hill's edge they tracked the footmark small, and through the broken hawthorn hedge and by the low stone wall. And then an open field they crossed, the marks were still the same. They tracked them on, nor ever lost, and to the bridge they came. They followed from the snowy bank, those footmarks one by one, into the middle of the plank, and further there were none. Yet some maintain that to this day she is a living child, that you may see Lucy Gray upon the lonesome wild. Or rough and smooth she trips along and never looks behind, and sings a solitary song that whistles in the wind.  Blue butterflies pass like a breath or a sigh. The shy little hare runs confidingly near, and wise rabbits stare with inquiry, not fear. Gay squirrels have found him and made him their choice, all creatures flock round him and seem to rejoice. While lady birds leap on his cheek fresh and fair, young partridges creep nestling under his hair. Brown honeybees drop something sweet on his lips, rash grasshoppers hop on his round fingertips. Birds hover above him with musical call. All things seem to love him, and he loves them all. Is nothing afraid of the boy lying there? Would all nature aid if he wanted its care? Things timid and wild with soft eagerness come.  But what can have brought him? But how can they know what instinct has taught them to cherish him so? Since first he could walk, they have served him like this. His lips could not talk, but they found they could kiss. They made him a court, and they crowned him a king, a who could have thought of so lovely a thing. They found him so pretty, they gave him their hearts, and some divine pity has taught them their parts. A. The blind boy. Oh, say, what is that thing called light, which I must never enjoy? What are the blessings of the sight? Oh, tell your poor blind boy. You talk of wondrous things, you see. You say the sun shines bright. I feel him warm, but how can he make either day or night? My day and night myself I make, when ere I sleep or play, and could I always keep awake? With me there were always day. With heavy sighs I often hear, you mourn my hapless woe, but sure with patience I can bear, a loss I nare can know. Then let not what I cannot have, my peace of mind destroy, whilst thus I sing I am a king, although a poor blind boy. Caught he, siber. End of Chapter 6 Recording by Linda Marie Nielsen, Vancouver, B.C. Chapter number 7 Of the Posey Ring A Book of Verse for Children by Various This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Playtime, poems The world's a very happy place, where every child should dance and sing, and always have a smiling face, and never sulk for anything. Gabriel Satune A boy's song, where the pools are bright and deep, where the gray trout lives asleep, up the river and o'er the lee, that's the way for Billy and me. Where the blackbird sings the latest, where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, where the nestlings chirp and flee, that's the way for Billy and me. Where the mowers mow the cleanest, where the hay lies thick and greenest, there to trace the homeward bee, that's the way for Billy and me. Where the hazel bank is steepest, where the shadow falls the deepest, where the clustering nuts fall free, that's the way for Billy and me. Why the boys should drive away little sweet maidens from the play, or love to banter and fight so well, that's the thing I never could tell. But this I know I love to play, through the meadow among the hay, up the water and o'er the lee, that's the way for Billy and me. James Hogg The Ettrick Shepherd The Lost Doll I once had a sweet little doll, dears, the prettiest doll in the world. Her cheeks were so red and white, dears, and her hair was so charmingly curled. But I lost my poor little doll, dears, as I played on the heath one day, and I cried for her more than a week, dears, but I never could find where she lay. I found my poor little doll, dears, as I played on the heath one day. Folks say she is terrible changed, dears, for her paint is all washed away. And her arms trotted off by the cow's deer, and her hair not the least but curled. Yet for old's sake, she is still, dears, the prettiest doll in the world. Charles Kingsley Dolledine This is her picture, dolledine, the beautifulest doll that ever was seen. Oh, what nose gaze! Oh, what sashes! Oh, what beautiful eyes and lashes!  On each instep a pink rosette, little blue shoes for her little blue tauts, elegant ribbons in bows and knots. Her hair is powdered, her arms are straight, only feel, she is quite a weight. Her legs are limp, though. Stand up, miss!  William Brighty Rans Dressing the doll This is the way we dress the doll. You may make her a shepherdess, the doll. If you give her a crook with a pastoral hook, but this is the way we dress the doll. Bless the doll, you may press the doll, but do not crumple and mess the doll. This is the way we dress the doll.  As she sits or stands with golden bands and lace in beautiful filigrees. This is the way we dress the doll. You may make her a shepherdess, the doll. If you give her a crook with a pastoral hook, but this is the way we dress the doll. Bless the doll, you may press the doll, but do not crumple or mess the doll. This is the way we dress the doll. Now these are the bodies she has too. One of pink with ruches of blue, and sweet white lace. Be careful, do. And one of green with buttons of sheen. Buttons and bands of gold, I mean. With lace on the border in lovely order. The most expensive we can afford her. This is the way we dress the doll. You may make her a shepherdess, the doll. If you give her a crook with a pastoral hook, but this is the way we dress the doll. Bless the doll, you may press the doll, but do not crumple or mess the doll. This is the way we dress the doll. Then with black at the border jacket, and this, and this, she will not lack it. Skirts, why? There are skirts, of course. And shoes and stockings we shall enforce. With a proper bodice in the proper place. Stays that lace have had their days. And made their martyrs likewise garters, all entire. But our desire is to show you her knight attire. At least a part of it, pray admire. This sweet white thing that she goes to bed in. It's not the one that's made for her wedding. That is special, a new design. Made with a charm and a counter sign. Three times three, and nine times nine. These are only her usual clothes. Look, there's a wardrobe. Gracious nose. Is pretty enough as far as it goes. So you see the way we dress the doll. You might make her a shepherdess, the doll. If you give her a crook with a pastoral hook. With sheep and a shed and shallow brook. And all that out of the poetry book. This is the way we dress the doll. You may make her a shepherdess, the doll. If you give her a crook with a pastoral hook. But this is the way we dress the doll. Bless the doll. You may press the doll. But do not crumple and mess the doll. This is the way we dress the doll. If you had not seen, could you guess the doll? William Brighty Rans. The peddler's caravan. I wished I lived in a caravan, with a horse to drive like a peddler man. Where he comes from, nobody knows. Or where he goes to, but on he goes. His caravan has windows too, and a chimney of tin, that the smoke comes through. He has a wife with a baby brown, and they go riding from town to town. Chairs to mend and delft to sell. He clashes the basins like a bell. Tea trays, baskets ranged in order. Plates with the alphabet round the border. The roads are brown and the sea is green. But his house is just like a bathing machine. The world is round and he can ride, rumble and splash to the other side. With the peddler man I should like to roam, and write a book. When I came home, all the people would read my book, just like the travels of Captain Cook. William Brighty Rans. A sea song from the shore. Hail-ho, sail-ho, ahoy, ahoy, ahoy. Who calls to me, so far at sea, only a little boy. Sail-ho, hail-ho, the sailor he sails the sea. I wish he would capture a little sea horse, and send him home to me. I wish as he sails through the tropical gales, he would catch me a seabird, too, with its silver wings and the song it sings, and its breast of down and dew. I wish he would catch me a little mermaid, some island where he lands, with her dripping curls and her crown of pearls, and the looking glass in her hands. Hail-ho, sail-ho, sail far o'er the fabulous main. And if I were a sailor, I'd sail with you. Though I never sailed back again. James Wiccan Riley. The Land of Story Books Footnote from A Child's Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson by permission of Charles Scribner's sons and footnote. At evening when the lamp is lit, around the fire my parents sit. They sit at home and talk and sing, and do not play at anything. Now with my little gun I crawl, all in the dark along the wall, and fall around the forest track, away behind the sofa-back. There in the night where none can spy, all in my hunter's camp I lie, and play at books that I have read, till it is time to go to bed. These are the hills, these are the woods, these are my starry soliditudes, and they are the river by whose brink the roaring lions come to drink. I see the others far away, as if in firelit camp they lay, and I, like two an Indian scout, around their party proud about. So when my nurse comes in for me, home I return across the sea, and go to bed with backward looks at my dear land of story books. Robert Louis Stevenson The City Child Dainty little maiden, wither would you wander? Wither from this pretty home, the home where mother dwells. Far and far away, said the dainty little maiden, all among the gardens, auriculas, anemones, roses and lilies, and cantabary bells. Dainty little maiden, wither would you wander? Wither from this pretty house, this city house of ours. Far and far away, said the dainty little maiden, all among the meadows, the clover and the comatose, daisies and king cups, and honeysuckle flowers. Alfred Lord Tennyson Going into breeches, joy to Philip, he this day, has his long coats cast away, and the childish season gone, put the manly breeches on, officer on gay parade, red coat in his first caucade, bright groom in his wedding trim, birthday bow surpassing him, never did, with conscious gait, strut about in half the state, or the pride, yet free from sin, of my little mannequin, never was their pride or bliss half so rational as his. Sashes frocks to those that need him, Philip's limbs have got their freedom. He can run, or he can ride, and do twenty things beside. Which his petty coats forbade, is he not a happy lad? Now he's under other banners, he must leave his former manners, bid adieu to female games, and forget their very names, puss in corners hide and seek, sports for girls and punnies weak. Bass the bear he now may play at, leapfrog football sport away at, show his skill and strength at cricket, mark his distance, pitch his wicket, run about in winter snow till his cheeks and fingers glow, climb a tree or scale a wall, without any fear to fall.  He must have his courage ready, keep his voice and visage steady, brace his eyeballs stiff as drum, that a tear may never come, and his grief must only speak from the collar in his cheek. This and more he must endure, hero he, in miniature, this and more must now be done, now the breeches are put on. Charles and Mary Lamb Hunting song, up up ye dames and lasses gay, to the meadows trip away, Tiss you must tend the flocks this morn, and scare the small birds from the corn. Not a soul at home may stay, for the shepherds must go, with glance and bow, to hunt the wolf in the woods today. Leave the hearth and leave the house, to the cricket and the mouse, find Granam out a sunny seat, with babe and lambkin at her feet. Not a soul at home may stay, for the shepherds must go, with glance and bow, to hunt the wolf in the woods today. Samuel Taylor Coolridge High Away High Away, high away, over bank and over bray, where the cops would is the greenest, where the fountains listen sheenest, where the lady fern grows strongest, where the morning dew lies longest, where the black cock sweetest sips it, where the fairy latest rips it, high to haunts wright seldom seen, lovely lonesome cool and green, over bank and over bray, high away, high away. Sir Walter Scott End of Chapter 7


The crystal structure and chemical distribution of the HFC-Ox slash tan layers were analyzed using X-ray diffraction, X-RD, and X-ray photoelectron spectroscopy, XPS, respectively. The point slash HFC-Ox slash tan memrister was confirmed by transmission electron microscopy, TEM, and showed analog bipolar switching behavior with high endurance stability, 1,000 cycles, long data retention performance, 104 s, and uniform voltage distribution. Its multilevel capability was demonstrated by restricting current compliance, CC, and stopping the reset voltage. The memrister exhibited synaptic properties, such as short term plasticity, excitatory post-synaptic current, EPSC, spiking rate, dependent plasticity, SRDP, post-etanic potentiation, PTP, and paired pulse facilitation, PPF. Furthermore, it demonstrated 94.6% pattern accuracy in neural network simulations. Thus, AHFC-Ox based memristers have great potential for use in multilevel memory and neuromorphic computing. This article was offered by Muhammad Ismail, Maria Rashid, Chandra Swarmohada, and others. We are article.tv, links in the description below.


It's your job to give the customer the feeling that they should be with you. Don't carry rejection and negativity into your next call. What I commonly see, the death killer, death on a stick for a sales pro is going to be getting on a bad phone call and then the next person they talk to pays for it. Have you ever heard your manager say, get control of the customer, right? Whether it's on the phone or in person, taking control is important. Look, how do most people sound when they answer the phone? Let me explain this. Taking control will happen within the first, I think, three to four seconds of a phone call in the first 30 seconds for sure. But in the first three to four seconds, you say, Andy, how could I take control in the first three to four seconds? The way you answered the dang phone is how you take control. Look, most people's like, sales, this is Andy. Okay, look, I know who you are. You sound like a sales guy. That's who you are. You're answering the phone.  That's just is what it is. But what about me saying, hope you have a wonderful day. This is Andy. How can I help you today? Hey, Andy, I was checking the availability of this vehicle. Yeah, sure, no problem. I'll check on it. How's your day going today? You having a blessed day? It's like however you want to answer, I am taking control and I've already started asking questions. Who's in control? Me. Hey, guys, what's going on? It's Andy. A lot of you leave comments telling me that you need help. Do me a favor and tell you the best way to get a hold of me. Shoot me a text message right now,<PHONE_NUMBER>.<PHONE_NUMBER>, I'll help you with whatever you need.  Let's get back to the video. If I called you and then you told me that you were going to go check on a vehicle and you put me on hold, we don't know each other. You don't have a relationship with me and what am I doing? I'm just sitting here like this on the phone. Look, let's just be quiet for a minute. Listen to this. How long you want that to go on? OK?  Absolutely. You never put somebody on hold. The gap is one of the most important things in the world. It's where you're going to build a relationship with the customer. Follow me. Customer calls. Let's take about the timeline of a deal, right? From the beginning to the end, the gap is in the middle. That's where the customer wants to speed up the process, get the information, get off the phone. We want to slow down the customer, right? Set a real appointment and get them in. I want you to think about this for a minute. What happens? We answer the phone. Hope you have a wonderful day. This is Andy. How can I help you? That's the intro, right? Guess what the customer says. Yeah, I was calling to check the availability of this vehicle, X, Y, and Z car. You say, yeah, no problem. I'd love to check on that for you. By the way, who do I have the pleasure of speaking with today? You notice how it's going, right? Deposit, withdrawal, deposit, withdrawal. And then guess what happens? I say, yeah, listen, Mr. Customer, I'm rebooting my computer. It's going to take me about 30 seconds. Or I just reset my computer. It's going to take me about 30 seconds so I can give you all the information on the car you need to know. While I'm doing that, where are you calling from today? Pam, I just created a gap. Ask more general questions, not specific questions. OK, let me give an example. The guy that talked himself out of a deal. What does he sound like? OK, you're looking for a truck today. Two-wheel drive or four-wheel drive? Four-wheel drive. OK, cool. Reather cab or crew cab or extended cab? Crew cab. OK, cool. Lighter or darker color? Darker color. Cool. Leather or cloth? Cloth. OK, you have to have a crew cab, lighter color, four-wheel drive, cloth, truck, just to sell that guy something. Hey, how about you ask something like this? A little bit more simple, a little bit more general, OK? That specific dish is general. This will allow you to actually set more appointments. Sir, it looks like you're looking for a truck. We're a massive truck center. Look, let me ask you this. What are you going to be doing with the vehicle? Guy says, well, I'm going to be pulling my boat with it. Cool, you got a family? How many people do you got? Guy's like, I got five people. Awesome. So basically, you need a truck that's going to hold five people, pull the boat, something that's going to rock and roll, have lower miles, be under warranty, and keep a great payment. Is that right? Awesome. It looks like I have a whole bunch of those in stock. What time can you make it? I'm going to walk through all of them with you. Get ready to be blown away. Boom. You see how that was open? It was open. It was more generalized. It wasn't specific. Don't talk yourself out of a cell. It's your job to give the customer the feeling that they should be with you. Well, there's lots of ways you can do this. But number one, have a great attitude. Be kind. Look, speak with certainty, which means whatever you say, be really certain about it. Be believable, OK? Laugh. Have some humor. Do me a favor. Write down the word quirky. Be a little bit quirky on the phone. Have some fun with people. Look, don't make it serious, all right? If you make it too serious with me, it's really hard for me to feel like you're the right person I should be doing business with. Do you think people want to buy a car and not have a stressed out or a stressful experience? Yes or no? Yes, of course. Well, how could you create that?  And all of that ties into what? A gut feeling that the customer will feel that you're the right person that they should be doing business with. Hey, guys. I just want to tell you, you're the true one percentage you made it till the end of the video. Do me a favor. Share it with the friend that wants to go to another level. Make sure you like the video. Comment below so I know who you are. 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