In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and
great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children, and read more

In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and
great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be
comforted, because they are not.

Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the sides of thine house:
thy children like olive plants read more

Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the sides of thine house:
thy children like olive plants round about thy table.

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.

What is a normal childhood? We weren't rich, we were pretty middle-class. My dad survived from job to job; with read more

What is a normal childhood? We weren't rich, we were pretty middle-class. My dad survived from job to job; with him taking care of so many relatives, he couldn't save any money.

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.

Teach your child to hold his tongue,
He'll learn fast enough to speak.

Teach your child to hold his tongue,
He'll learn fast enough to speak.

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.

There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we spent with a favorite book.

There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we spent with a favorite book.

Alas! regardless of their doom,
The little victims play;
No sense have they of ills to come,
read more

Alas! regardless of their doom,
The little victims play;
No sense have they of ills to come,
Nor care beyond to-day.