1. This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.

    — Walt Whitman (via petrichour)

  2. jtotheizzoe:

From The Old Astronomer (To His Pupil) by Sarah Williams
The full poem:
Reach me down my Tycho Brahé, — I would know him when we meet,When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;He may know the law of all things, yet be ignorant of howWe are working to completion, working on from then to now.Pray remember that I leave you all my theory complete,Lacking only certain data for your adding, as is meet,And remember men will scorn it, ‘tis original and true,And the obloquy of newness may fall bitterly on you.But, my pupil, as my pupil you have learned the worth of scorn,You have laughed with me at pity, we have joyed to be forlorn,What for us are all distractions of men’s fellowship and wiles;What for us the Goddess Pleasure with her meretricious smiles.You may tell that German College that their honor comes too late,But they must not waste repentance on the grizzly savant’s fate.Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.What, my boy, you are not weeping? You should save your eyes for sight;You will need them, mine observer, yet for many another night.I leave none but you, my pupil, unto whom my plans are known.You “have none but me,” you murmur, and I “leave you quite alone”?Well then, kiss me, — since my mother left her blessing on my brow,There has been a something wanting in my nature until now;I can dimly comprehend it, — that I might have been more kind,Might have cherished you more wisely, as the one I leave behind.I “have never failed in kindness”? No, we lived too high for strife,—Calmest coldness was the error which has crept into our life;But your spirit is untainted, I can dedicate you stillTo the service of our science: you will further it? you will!There are certain calculations I should like to make with you,To be sure that your deductions will be logical and true;And remember, “Patience, Patience,” is the watchword of a sage,Not to-day nor yet to-morrow can complete a perfect age.I have sown, like Tycho Brahé, that a greater man may reap;But if none should do my reaping, ‘twill disturb me in my sleepSo be careful and be faithful, though, like me, you leave no name;See, my boy, that nothing turn you to the mere pursuit of fame.I must say Good-bye, my pupil, for I cannot longer speak;Draw the curtain back for Venus, ere my vision grows too weak:It is strange the pearly planet should look red as fiery Mars,—God will mercifully guide me on my way amongst the stars.

"Poetry is boring," said a student to me earlier today.
"Sarah Williams," responded Tumblr.

    jtotheizzoe:

    From The Old Astronomer (To His Pupil) by Sarah Williams

    The full poem:

    Reach me down my Tycho Brahé, — I would know him when we meet,
    When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;
    He may know the law of all things, yet be ignorant of how
    We are working to completion, working on from then to now.

    Pray remember that I leave you all my theory complete,
    Lacking only certain data for your adding, as is meet,
    And remember men will scorn it, ‘tis original and true,
    And the obloquy of newness may fall bitterly on you.

    But, my pupil, as my pupil you have learned the worth of scorn,
    You have laughed with me at pity, we have joyed to be forlorn,
    What for us are all distractions of men’s fellowship and wiles;
    What for us the Goddess Pleasure with her meretricious smiles.

    You may tell that German College that their honor comes too late,
    But they must not waste repentance on the grizzly savant’s fate.
    Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
    I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

    What, my boy, you are not weeping? You should save your eyes for sight;
    You will need them, mine observer, yet for many another night.
    I leave none but you, my pupil, unto whom my plans are known.
    You “have none but me,” you murmur, and I “leave you quite alone”?

    Well then, kiss me, — since my mother left her blessing on my brow,
    There has been a something wanting in my nature until now;
    I can dimly comprehend it, — that I might have been more kind,
    Might have cherished you more wisely, as the one I leave behind.

    I “have never failed in kindness”? No, we lived too high for strife,—
    Calmest coldness was the error which has crept into our life;
    But your spirit is untainted, I can dedicate you still
    To the service of our science: you will further it? you will!

    There are certain calculations I should like to make with you,
    To be sure that your deductions will be logical and true;
    And remember, “Patience, Patience,” is the watchword of a sage,
    Not to-day nor yet to-morrow can complete a perfect age.

    I have sown, like Tycho Brahé, that a greater man may reap;
    But if none should do my reaping, ‘twill disturb me in my sleep
    So be careful and be faithful, though, like me, you leave no name;
    See, my boy, that nothing turn you to the mere pursuit of fame.

    I must say Good-bye, my pupil, for I cannot longer speak;
    Draw the curtain back for Venus, ere my vision grows too weak:
    It is strange the pearly planet should look red as fiery Mars,—
    God will mercifully guide me on my way amongst the stars.

    "Poetry is boring," said a student to me earlier today.

    "Sarah Williams," responded Tumblr.

  3. Weird, i was JUST looking at this image on Thursday with another teacher. She was teaching her students about found poetry and wanted to show them some good examples.
Of course the NYC DoE had blocked the website, so.

    Weird, i was JUST looking at this image on Thursday with another teacher. She was teaching her students about found poetry and wanted to show them some good examples.

    Of course the NYC DoE had blocked the website, so.

  4. Weird Mind Wanders: To My (Future) Kids →

    weirdmindwanders:

    Cats and dogs are not substitutes for napkins,

    Chocolate milk does not come from brown cows,
    Spaghetti sauce is not the same as water because a goldfish cannot survive without oxygen or in boiling liquids made out of tomatoes.
    Pulling the emergency brake in the car while the vehicle is in motion…

    (Source: soundyouryawp)