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An understanding heart is everything is a teacher, and cannot be esteemed highly enough. One looks back with appreciation to read more
An understanding heart is everything is a teacher, and cannot be esteemed highly enough. One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feeling. The curriculum is so much necessary raw material, but warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child.
It takes a great deal of history to produce a little literature.
It takes a great deal of history to produce a little literature.
Everywhere I go, I'm asked if the universities stifle writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them.
Everywhere I go, I'm asked if the universities stifle writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them.
Five miles meandering with mazy motion, Through dale the sacred
river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, read more
Five miles meandering with mazy motion, Through dale the sacred
river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank
the tumult to a lifeless ocean: And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard
from far Ancestral voices prophesying war!
You, the Spirit of the Settlement! ... Not understand that America is God's crucible, the great melting-pot where all the read more
You, the Spirit of the Settlement! ... Not understand that America is God's crucible, the great melting-pot where all the races of Europe are melting and re-forming! Here, you stand, good folk, think I, when I see them at Ellis Island, here you stand in your fifty groups, with your fifty languages and histories, and your fifty blood hatreds and rivalries... - Melting Pot, The.
Till last by Philip's farm I flowTo join the brimming river,For men may come and men may go,But I go read more
Till last by Philip's farm I flowTo join the brimming river,For men may come and men may go,But I go on for ever. - The Brook.
For whatever is truly wondrous and fearful in man, never yet was put into words or books.
For whatever is truly wondrous and fearful in man, never yet was put into words or books.
We read poetry because the poets, like ourselves, have been haunted by the inescapable tyranny of time and death; have read more
We read poetry because the poets, like ourselves, have been haunted by the inescapable tyranny of time and death; have suffered the pain of loss, and the more wearing, continuous pain of frustration and failure; and have had moods of unlooked-for release and peace. They have known and watched in themselves and others.