Sun Quotes (page 50)
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Must be I find youtough and lusty as the life, all toil and tempo, finesse and plain fight, with values so old they startle me. Must be I think of youas I do the rugged flowersthat prove themselves over and over in the spring, that elsewhere might perish, but here master the earth, bloom into gangly lives of high color, and inhale the sun, knowing the landbetter than the land does. Hardy, savvy, they will outlive us all.
Diane Ackerman
We cannot know the consequences of suppressing a child's spontaneity when he is just beginning to be active. We may even suffocate life itself. That humanity which is revealed in all its intellectual splendor during the sweet and tender age of childhood should be respected with a kind of religious veneration. It is like the sun which appears at dawn or a flower just beginning to bloom. Education cannot be effective unless it helps a child to open up himself to life.
Maria Montessori
THE OWLSby: Charles Baudelaire. UNDER the overhanging yews, The dark owls sit in solemn state, Like stranger gods; by twos and twos. Their red eyes gleam. They meditate. Motionless thus they sit and dream. Until that melancholy hour. When, with the sun's last fading gleam, The nightly shades assume their power. From their still attitude the wise. Will learn with terror to despise. All tumult, movement, and unrest; For he who follows every shade, Carries the memory in his breast, Of each...
Charles Baudelaire
She was considered timid and morose. Only in the country, her skin tanned by the sun and her belly full of ripe fruit, running through the fields with Pedro Tercero, was she smiling and happy. Her mother said that that was the real Blanca, and that the other one, the one back in the city, was a Blanca in hibernation.
Isabel Allende
Meanwhile, the trees were just as green as before; the birds sang and the sun shone as clearly now as ever. The familiar surroundings had not darkened because of her grief, nor sickened because of her pain. She might have seen that what had bowed her head so profoundly -the thought of the world's concern at her situation- was found on an illusion. She was not an existence, an experience, a passion, a structure of sensations, to anybody but herself.
Thomas Hardy