We plan our lives according to a dream that came to us in our childhood, and we find that life read more

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.

The children in Holland take pleasure in making
What the children in England take pleasure in breaking.

The children in Holland take pleasure in making
What the children in England take pleasure in breaking.

My lovely living Boy,
My hope, my hap, my Love, my life, my joy.
- Guillaume read more

My lovely living Boy,
My hope, my hap, my Love, my life, my joy.
- Guillaume de Salluste Du Bartas,

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child,
I thought as a read more

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child,
I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away
childish things.

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.

By sports like these are all their cares beguil'd,
The sports of children satisfy the child.

By sports like these are all their cares beguil'd,
The sports of children satisfy the child.

The essence of childhood, of course, is play, which my friends and I did endlessly on streets that we reluctantly read more

The essence of childhood, of course, is play, which my friends and I did endlessly on streets that we reluctantly shared with traffic.

Women know
The way to rear up children (to be just);
They know a simple, merry, tender read more

Women know
The way to rear up children (to be just);
They know a simple, merry, tender knack
Of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes,
And stringing pretty words that make no sense,
And kissing full sense into empty words;
Which things are corals to cut life upon,
Although such trifles.

Childhood has no forebodings; but then, it is soothed by no
memories of outlived sorrow.

Childhood has no forebodings; but then, it is soothed by no
memories of outlived sorrow.