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There is a trend going on in world these days for when people see they can't achieve something or reach somewhere, they start blaming their race, color or religion for it. They give examples or learn from those 99% who could't achieve something, ignoring those 1% who are already there regardless of their color, caste or religion. Only difference between these 99% and those 1% is, they were working hard, trying to break the myths and barriers when other 99% were just sitting at home in the comfort of their couches and crying for their failures, blaming it either on their race or color.Celebrating your races or religions and crying blaming it for your failure everyday, won't take anyone anywhere. Go out, move your feet and work.
Shivam Singh
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There is a trend going on in world these days for when people see they can't achieve something or reach somewhere, they start blaming their race, color or religion for it. They give examples or learn from those 99% who could't achieve something, ignoring those 1% who are already there regardless of their color, caste or religion. Only difference between these 99% and those 1% is, they were working hard, trying to break the myths and barriers when other 99% were just sitting at home in the comfort of their couches and crying for their failures, blaming it either on their race or color.Celebrating your races or religions and crying blaming it for your failure everyday, won't take anyone anywhere. Go out, move your feet and work.

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What?' He cried, darting at him a look of fury: 'Dare you still implore the Eternal's mercy? Would you feign penitence, and again act an Hypocrite's part? Villain, resign your hopes of pardon. Thus I secure my prey!'As He said this, darting his talons into the Monk's shaven crown, He sprang with him from the rock. The Caves and mountains rang with Ambrosio's shrieks. The Daemon continued to soar aloft, till reaching a dreadful height, He released the sufferer. Headlong fell the Monk through the airy waste; The sharp point of a rock received him; and He rolled from precipice to precipice, till bruised and mangled He rested on the river's banks. Life still existed in his miserable frame: He attempted in vain to raise himself; His broken and dislocated limbs refused to perform their office, nor was He able to quit the spot where He had first fallen. The Sun now rose above the horizon; Its scorching beams darted full upon the head of the expiring Sinner. Myriads of insects were called forth by the warmth; They drank the blood which trickled from Ambrosio's wounds; He had no power to drive them from him, and they fastened upon his sores, darted their stings into his body, covered him with their multitudes, and inflicted on him tortures the most exquisite and insupportable. The Eagles of the rock tore his flesh piecemeal, and dug out his eyeballs with their crooked beaks. A burning thirst tormented him; He heard the river's murmur as it rolled beside him, but strove in vain to drag himself towards the sound. Blind, maimed, helpless, and despairing, venting his rage in blasphemy and curses, execrating his existence, yet dreading the arrival of death destined to yield him up to greater torments, six miserable days did the Villain languish. On the Seventh a violent storm arose: The winds in fury rent up rocks and forests: The sky was now black with clouds, now sheeted with fire: The rain fell in torrents; It swelled the stream; The waves overflowed their banks; They reached the spot where Ambrosio lay, and when they abated carried with them into the river the Corse of the despairing Monk.