We plan our lives according to a dream that came to us in our childhood, and we find that life alters our plans. And yet, at the end, from a rare height, we also see that our dream was our fate. It's just that providence had other ideas as to how we would get there. Destiny plans a different route, or turns the dream around, as if it were a riddle, and fulfills the dream in ways we couldn't have expected.
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There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we spent with a favorite book.
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we spent with a favorite book.
Wynken, Blynken and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe--
Sailed on a river of read more
Wynken, Blynken and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe--
Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew.
Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.
Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.
In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and
great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children, and read more
In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and
great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be
comforted, because they are not.
Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he
will not depart read more
Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he
will not depart from it.
The things which the child loves remain in the domain of the heart until old age. The most beautiful thing read more
The things which the child loves remain in the domain of the heart until old age. The most beautiful thing in life is that our souls remaining over the places where we once enjoyed ourselves
There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning read more
There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant than ever again.
Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers,
Ere the sorrow comes with years?
They are read more
Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers,
Ere the sorrow comes with years?
They are leaning their young heads against their mothers,
And that cannot stop their tears.
[Witches] steal young children out of their cradles, ministerio
doemonum, and put deformed in their rooms, which we call read more
[Witches] steal young children out of their cradles, ministerio
doemonum, and put deformed in their rooms, which we call
changelings.
