"Whatever you do may seem insignificant, but it is most important that you do it."
~Gandhi
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Math and Literacy Quote
"Words and numbers are of equal value,
for, in the cloak of knowledge,
one is warp and the other woof.
It is no more important to count the sands
Then it is to name the stars."
The Phantom Toolbooth by Norton Juster
for, in the cloak of knowledge,
one is warp and the other woof.
It is no more important to count the sands
Then it is to name the stars."
The Phantom Toolbooth by Norton Juster
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Quote
"If we are to reach real peace in this world, we shall have to begin with the children."
~Gandhi
~Gandhi
Monday, May 10, 2010
Literature Poem
Their tales are full of sorcerers and ogres
Because their lives are: the capricious infinite
That, like parents, no one has yet escaped
Except by luck or magic . . .
[W]olves, mice, bears, children, gods, and men
In slow perambulation up and down the shelves
Of the universe are seeking . . . who knows except themselves?
What some escape to, some escape: if we find Swann’s Way better than our own, and
trudge on at the back Of the north wind to – to –
somewhere east Of the sun, west of the moon, it
is because we live
By trading another’s sorrow for our own; another’s
Impossibilities, still unbelieved in, for our own . . .
Randall Jarrell, The Complete Poems (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1981).
Because their lives are: the capricious infinite
That, like parents, no one has yet escaped
Except by luck or magic . . .
[W]olves, mice, bears, children, gods, and men
In slow perambulation up and down the shelves
Of the universe are seeking . . . who knows except themselves?
What some escape to, some escape: if we find Swann’s Way better than our own, and
trudge on at the back Of the north wind to – to –
somewhere east Of the sun, west of the moon, it
is because we live
By trading another’s sorrow for our own; another’s
Impossibilities, still unbelieved in, for our own . . .
Randall Jarrell, The Complete Poems (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1981).
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