Quotes Roundup- Fall 09

Dwight D. Eisenhower:

In preparing for battle, I have found that planning is essential, but plans are useless.

Kail Nielson:

A man who says, “If God is dead, nothing matters,” is a spoilt child who has never looked at his fellow men with compassion.

Robert Green Ingersoll:

This crime called blasphemy was invented by priests for the purpose of defending doctrines not able to take care of themselves.

Dan Christiansen, BYU Student:

As a child, it seemed so simple;
Every step was clearly marked.
Priesthood, mission, sweetheart, temple;
Bright with hope I soon embarked.
But now I have become a man,
And doubt the promise of the plan.

For the path is growing steeper,
And a slip could mean my death.
Plunging upward, ever deeper,
I can barely catch my breath.
Oh, where within this untamed wild
Is the star that led me as a child?

As I crest the shadowed mountain,
I embrace the endless sky;
The expanse of heaven’s fountain
Now unfolds before my eye.
A thousand stars shine on the land,
The chart drafted by my own hand.

Sam Harris said that the timing of when young Earth creationists claim God created the Universe:

… is, incidentally, about a thousand years after the Sumerians invented glue. [Link goes to The Onion]

Robert Ingersoll:

Anger is a wind which blows out the lamp of the mind.

limericks about time

by cuddlefish:

Time’s an illusion, you know

And lunchtime, of course, doubly so–

It so rapidly passes,

Or slow as molasses,

And where did my yesterday go?!?

The telling of time is an art

Take, for instance, the time we’re apart:

That time is not reckoned

By hour or by second,

But measured in beats of my heart.

I remember when days used to last,

And a year was impossibly vast;

It seems yesterday morn

When my children were born–

How the hell did they grow up so fast?

My days, though to say so seems trite,

Seem to pass at the speed of–well, light.

If I only could see ’em,

I’d carpe each diem,

But they so quickly pass out of sight.

Today my wife wrote me an AMAZING little poem. Here it is (in Portuguese):

Aos poucos você foi chegando e com seu jeito meigo e carinhoso conquistou devagarzinho cada pedacinho do meu coração.

Tão opostos e ao mesmo tempo tão complementares e essa sintonia tão perfeita às vezes me passa medo, mais como ter medo ao seu lado se cada vez que te olho com tristeza ou insegurança seus lábios se abrem em um sorriso e a sua boca em um beijo. É você quem me passa paz e segurança nos momentos em que eu mais preciso, você para mim é mais que um namorado, amante, marido… meu amigo, meu amor…

Da sua esposa.

This is a poem that my wife wrote for me while on the plane (in Portuguese):

“Se um dia eu pudesse comparar a sua beleza com a maravilha do mar eu teria que te perder e te esquecer pra não me atrever a falar o quanto é lindo seu sorrizo como a brisa do mar

De como teus olhos brilham como o nascer do sol sobre a água infinita perfeita do mar… Isso me faz pensar o quanto eu seria completa em apenas te ter e deixar perder os encantos do mar

Me bastaria na vida somente você”

A Poem My Wife Sent Me Today

He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

William Butler Yeats