“I intend to put up with nothing that I can put down.” – Edgar Allan Poe
“A children’s story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children’s story in the slightest.” – C.S. Lewis
“It is a great thing to start life with a small number of really good books which are your very own.” – Arthur Conan Doyle
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Step into the heart of eastern Oregon, where the night sky unveils a spectacle so mesmerizing that it’s officially been crowned the world’s largest International Dark Sky Sanctuary.
Imagine a canvas stretching over 2.5 million acres in Lake County, twinkling with stars, a wilderness so vast it’s just the beginning of a dream to shield 11.4 million acres from the ever-encroaching glow
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With its towering dome, St. Paul’s Cathedral is one of the most famous structures in all of London. Soon, some lucky travelers will have a chance to spend the night at the famed landmark—the first to do so since the St. Paul’s Watch fire brigade took nightly shifts protecting the building during World War II.
Airbnb is offering a one-night
“The stars are the land-marks of the universe.” – Sir John Frederick William Herschel
“Ye stars! Which are the poetry of heaven.” – Lord Byron
“Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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In a Monday tweet, Elon Musk wrote “humankind,” followed by the 1,800-year-old classical Chinese poem The Quatrain of Seven Steps.
Here is the poem translated into English by Moss Roberts:
Beans a simmer on a beanstalk flame
From inside the pot expressed their ire:
“Alive we sprouted on a single root—
What’s your rush to cook us on the fire?”
The verses were
“Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas.” – Albert Einstein
“Mathematics is the music of reason.” — James Joseph Sylvester
“A mathematician who is not also something of a poet will never be a complete mathematician.” — Karl Weierstrass
“Nature is written in mathematical language.” — Galileo Galilei
“The pure mathematician, like the musician, is a free creator of his world of ordered
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We love books, and our friends at UNESCO agree. The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization proposed World Book Day as a day of celebrating the joy of reading for enjoyment.
One hundred countries observe World Book Day, and why not? Children who regularly read for enjoyment have higher test scores, develop a broader vocabulary, increased general knowledge and a better understanding of other
“The poetry of the earth is never dead.” ― John Keats
“Art is the child of nature in whom we trace the features of the mother’s face.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
“…and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?” ― Vincent Willem van Gogh
from the poem “Come in”
by Robert Frost
“…I was out for stars;
I would not come in.
I meant not even if asked;
And I hadn’t been.”
A Brother may not be a Friend, but a Friend will always be a Brother.
Benjamin Franklin
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“I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars,
And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of sand, and the egg of the wren,
And the tree-toad is a chef-d’oeuvre for the highest,
And the running blackberry would adorn the parlors of heaven,
And the narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn all machinery,
And the cow crunching with depress’d head surpasses any statue,
And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions
Sun of the sleepless! melancholy star!
Whose tearful beam glows tremulously far,
That show’st the darkness thou canst not dispel,
How like art thou to joy remember’d well!
So gleams the past, the light of other days,
Which shines, but warms not with its powerless rays;
A night-beam Sorrow watcheth to behold,
Distinct but distant — clear — but, oh how cold!
‘Twas noontide of summer,
And mid-time of night;
And stars, in their orbits,
Shone pale, thro’ the light
Of the brighter, cold moon,
‘Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
Her beam on the waves.
I gazed awhile
On her cold smile;
Too cold- too cold for me-
There pass’d, as a shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
Proud Evening