Hey -- Jon-jon, Here!
The gauntlet has been thrown on the table!
The challenge is on!
How are you, dear?
How are things going with your Instagram (IG)?
Are you using Tailwinds for Pinterest & IG?
Are you using Tailwinds' Tribes?
Pinterest?
Tumblr?
Are you seeing the results you want?
Follower growth?
Increased engagement?
Sales?
ETC...
If not, I have something I think you're going to like!
Next week I will be hosting a free, 5-day Instagram challenge that I'd love for you to join! Deep discount, now!? Hurry! Price will be going up soon!
From August 26th - 30th I will be telling you exactly what to post, what to share for your stories, how to reach the right people, in your niche and how to generate actual income with your IG account, for example...
All you have to do is sign up, open my eMails and follow the step -by- step instructions, with walk thrus.
Sound good?
My thanks in advance for your time, trouble, attention, energy & consideration.
Cheers,
John (João) A. d'Silva
---------- Forwarded message ---------
From: Alex Tooby <hello@alextooby.com>
Date: Mon, Aug 19, 2019 at 11:20 AM
Subject: I challenge you to.. 😏
To: Jon-jon <joaoa.dsilva2019@gmail.com>
From: Alex Tooby <hello@alextooby.com>
Date: Mon, Aug 19, 2019 at 11:20 AM
Subject: I challenge you to.. 😏
To: Jon-jon <joaoa.dsilva2019@gmail.com>
Tobee or NOT to be...
Speech: "To be, or not to be, that is the question"
(from Hamlet, spoken by Hamlet)
"To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action."
Cheers,
 |
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Scrolled to the bottom? Click here to join my free Instagram challenge that runs August 26th - 30th.
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