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“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 read more

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Between day and night we all are
time travelers. Who isn’t?

Spirit Speed: Selected LuCxeed Poems, Collection .iii.
Nature’s serenity and Society’s anxiety are the muse of poet LuCxeed who more than often travels back and forth, between nature and society, dedicating life and passion to creativity and poetry. Some LuCxeed poems are inspired by true events in modern life, by read more

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Math and Music: Selected LuCxeed Poems
Nature’s serenity and Society’s anxiety are the muse of poet LuCxeed who more than often travels back and forth, between nature and society, dedicating life and passion to creativity and poetry. Some LuCxeed poems are inspired by true events, by true stories, and some with biting humour.

From poem “Train of Morrow”:
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Train of Morrow: Selected LuCxeed Poems
Nature’s serenity and Society’s anxiety are the muse of poet LuCxeed who more than often travels back and forth, between nature and society, dedicating life and passion to creativity and poetry. Some LuCxeed poems are inspired by true events, by true stories, and some with biting humour.

From poem “Train of read more

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(quote)

Charles Santore, 84, nationally known illustrator from South Philadelphia was born into an Italian-Irish family. He began his career in 1956 working as a freelance illustrator for local advertising agencies and publications such as the Saturday Evening Post, Life, Redbook, and the Ladies’ Home Journal. read more

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(quote)

“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 read more

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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!

Sun Of The Sleepless! – Poem by Lord Byron