(...) being right all the time acquires a huge importance in education, and there is this terror of being wrong. The ego is so tied to being right that later on in life you are reluctant to accept that you are ever wrong, because you are defending not the idea but your self-esteem. (...) this terror of being wrong means that people have enormous difficulties in changing ideas.
Edward de BonoAbout author
- Author's profession: Psychologist
- Nationality: english
- Born: May 19, 1933
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What hope is here for modern rhyme
To him, who turns a musing eye
On songs, and deeds, and lives, that lie
Foreshorten'd in the tract of time?
These mortal lullabies of pain
May bind a book, may line a box,
May serve to curl a maiden's locks;
Or when a thousand moons shall wane
A man upon a stall may find,
And, passing, turn the page that tells
A grief, then changed to something else,
Sung by a long-forgotten mind.
But what of that? My darken'd ways
Shall ring with music all the...
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I'm named Bella," the girl told Gendry. "For the battle. I bet I could ring your bell, too. You want to?"No," he said gruffly."I bet you do." She ran a hand along his arm. "I don't cost nothing to friends of Thoros and the lighting lord."No, I said." Gendry rose abruptly and stalked away from the table out into the night. Bella turn to Arya. "Don't he like girls?"Arya shrugged. "He's just stupid. He likes to polish helmets and beat on swords with hammers.
George R. R. Martin
If you imagine that you will be able to achieve your ideal by ingeniously planning out a timetable with a pen on a piece of paper, you had better give up hope at once. If you are not prepared for discouragements and disillusions; if you will not be content with a small result for a big effort, then do not begin. Lie down again and resume the uneasy doze which you call your existence.
Arnold Bennett
Oh, my darling, wish you were here! And my dark soul is happy again, because it does not know how to be anything else for very long, andbecause the pain is a deep dark sea in which I would drown if I did not sail my little craft steadily over thesurface, steadily towards a sun which will never rise.
Anne Rice
