Citatepedia^®.com

I was fortunate to find an extraordinary mathematics and applied mathematics program in Toronto.

quote by Walter Kohn
Added by Lucian Velea
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Veterinary Camps

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[...] Read more

poem by Caasder Fronds
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Soccer Rollback

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Soccer Under 20

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Toronto Symphony # 1

Toronto is growing everyday
Because new buildings in Toronto is going up everywhere
And I believe that soon the view will be blocked
But I believe that one day we won't have the green space anymore
Because the green space will be filled with buildings
Can we save the green space in Toronto?
Does anybody cares about the green space in Toronto
And Toronto is not a clean city
it is very dirty indeed and the reason for that is that everybody litter the Street everywhere they go
And the streets in Toronto are full of potholes

poem by Aldo Kraas
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Verse Applied

Verse applied,
In a wish you'll see my meaning.
Out of my mind,
I'm gone...
Seeking clarity.

Verse applied,
In a wish you'll see my meaning.
With a wondering of why,
I'm...
Misunderstood!

I...
Adore you.
I...
Wish more,
To be with you...
Forevermore.

Oh I...
Adore you.
I...
Wish more,
To be with you...
Forevermore.

Verse applied,
In a wish you'll see my meaning.
How can you deny,
You can't feel the need in me!

Verse applied,
In a wish you'll see my meaning.
Out of my mind I'm gone...
Seeking clarity.

I...
Adore you.
I...
Wish more,
To be with you...
Forevermore.

Oh I...
Adore you.
I...
Wish more,
To be with you...
Forevermore.
Verse applied.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sobre Horizontes

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[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!

Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Interpretation of Nature and

I.

MAN, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.


II.

Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions.

III.

Human knowledge and human power meet in one; for where the cause is not known the effect cannot be produced. Nature to be commanded must be obeyed; and that which in contemplation is as the cause is in operation as the rule.

IV.

Towards the effecting of works, all that man can do is to put together or put asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by nature working within.

V.

The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the magician; but by all (as things now are) with slight endeavour and scanty success.

VI.

It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect that things which have never yet been done can be done except by means which have never yet been tried.

VII.

The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in books and manufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite subtlety and derivations from a few things already known; not in the number of axioms.

VIII.

Moreover the works already known are due to chance and experiment rather than to sciences; for the sciences we now possess are merely systems for the nice ordering and setting forth of things already invented; not methods of invention or directions for new works.

IX.

The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this -- that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human mind we neglect to seek for its true helps.

X.

The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding; so that all those specious meditations, speculations, and glosses in which men indulge are quite from the purpose, only there is no one by to observe it.

XI.

As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding out new works, so neither does the logic which we now have help us in finding out new sciences.

XII.

The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more harm than good.

XIII.

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Francis Bacon
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Extraordinary

You think that I go home at night
Take off my clothes, turn out the lights
But I burn letters that I write
To you, to make you love me
Yeah, I'd drive naked through the park
And run the stop sign in the dark
Stand in the street, yell out my heart
To you, to make you love me
I am extraordinary, if you'd ever get to know me
I am extraordinary, I am just your ordinary
Average every day sane psycho
Supergoddess
Average every day sane psycho
You may not believe in me
But I believe in you
So I still take the trash out
Does that make me too normal for you?
So dig a little deeper, cause
You still don't get it yet
See me lickin' my lips, need a primitive fix
And I'll make, I'll make you love me
I am extraordinary, if you'd ever get to know me
I am extraordinary, I am just your ordinary
Average every day sane psycho
Supergoddess
Average every day sane psycho
Supergoddess
See me jump through hoops for you
You stand there watching me performing
What exactly do you do?
Have you ever thought it's you that's boring?
Who the hell are you?
I am extraordinary, if you'd ever get to know me
I am extraordinary, I am just your ordinary
Average every day sane psycho
Supergoddess
Average every day sane psycho
Average every day sane psycho
Supergoddess
Average every day sane psycho
Average every day sane psycho
Supergoddess
Average every day sane psycho
Average every day sane psycho

song performed by Liz Phair
Added by Lucian Velea
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Songs of Education

I. HISTORY

Form 991785, Sub-Section D

The Roman threw us a road, a road,
And sighed and strolled away:
The Saxon gave us a raid, a raid,
A raid that came to stay;
The Dane went west, but the Dane confessed
That he went a bit too far;
And we all became, by another name,
The Imperial race we are.

The Imperial race, the inscrutable race,
The invincible race we are.

Though Sussex hills are bare, are bare,
And Sussex weald is wide,
From Chichester to Chester
Men saw the Norman ride;
He threw his sword in the air and sang
To a sort of a light guitar;
It was all the same, for we all became
The identical nobs we are.

The identical nobs, individual nobs,
Unmistakable nobs we are.

The people lived on the land, the land,
They pottered about and prayed;
They built a cathedral here and there
Or went on a small crusade:
Till the bones of Becket were bundled out
For the fun of a fat White Czar,
And we all became, in spoil and flame,
The intelligent lot we are.

The intelligent lot, the intuitive lot,
The infallible lot we are.

O Warwick woods are green, are green,
But Warwick trees can fall:
And Birmingham grew so big, so big,
And Stratford stayed so small.
Till the hooter howled to the morning lark
That sang to the morning star:
And we all became, in freedom's name,
The fortunate chaps we are.

The fortunate chaps, felicitous chaps,

[...] Read more

poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Toronto

Toronto is wonderful,
Beautiful.
Clean and mixed.

Very comments are made,
To stir up racial conflicts.
Toronto is magnificient.

One must go. Visit to explore...
It!
Has its own significance.
And those who choose Toronto...
Live.
In a diversity unique.

Note:
'Janice and I visited Toronto, Canada.
And stay in a hotel that overlooked city hall,
And the CN Tower-Canadian National.
There is one thing I noticed very quickly...
Most of the city gets busier after hours underground.
It has to be seen.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Step In Stride

I think you might like to hear something from us
Stand up
Put your hands up
Come on get up
Kid rocks in the house yo, ready to pick up
The tempo and you know so I will fo somewhat unconventional
But comprehendible
Im the presentable good lookin
The mello yellow young fellow and Im cookin
Heatin the house up just like a hot late
Smooth on the groove like an ice skate
You didnt think in a blink Id stnd here
Now your in fear and stand clear
You cant come near this hot sylin
Groove by the kid whos smooth as a violin
Aso the perfect lyric announcer
On the set with a cold forty ouncer
Ready to glide from sid to side
Why, cuz I step in stride
These are the criteria I believe should be applied
Cuz I step in stride
These are the criteria I believe should be applied
N-nnow yes Im new
But before Im threw
Your gonna see I paddle my own canoe
Cuz Im solo
A young pro on the go
Close to an angel
But I wear no halo
I just shake, create, and never act fake
And I learned to dislike and not hate
Because hatred leads to an uproar
Violence is on thing I am not here for
Im just here flat out
And to blow the roof
Kick some watts and thats what I inted to do
Pump it up like an air comb presser
Teach to each like a wise professor
No job I strive to reach high
Make the girls in the house all sigh
And Ill glide from side to side
Why, cuz I step in stride
These are the criteria I believe should be applied
Cuz I step in stride
These are the criteria I believe should be applied
Appied, step in stride you bet I do
Get you hig like a bottle of german brew
Comin clean
New on the scene
Makin girls scream

[...] Read more

song performed by Kid Rock
Added by Lucian Velea
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Where The River Flows

Music : rudolf schenker
Lyrics: klaus meine
Under suburban skies
Where life is bleeding
Where concrete skies are grey
Theres plenty of room for dreaming
I still keep coming here
Follow those traces
I travel back in time
Remember all those places
Feels like I never left
The houses still standing
Down by the river where
The dreams are never ending
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
Under the silent moon
This industrial city
Is heartland even though
Lifes been not that pretty
I still keep coming here
To that old river
To find my roots just where
The future lives forever
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me, you can find me
By the river where dreams will never die
By the river under suburban skies
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
By the river where dreams have never died
By the river I look through childrens eyes
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows

[...] Read more

song performed by Scorpions
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9904

9904
9904



CharlaXFabels

Ninenintyfour

Autofixation

A Dialog Fabel
Mrs. Smithster: BOSS let me help you clean up your computor today the new auto program disc is arrived in my snail mail box.
BOSS: OK just don't lose any of my contacts on the list the accounts are way too important.
JUNE: to her self: an aside: GET HIM who does he THINK he is giving me that guff so early in the mourning.
BOSS: Poor June is my secretary and eye love her like my sister but she is so dense the bullits bounce off her like she is Superman, or wait no Supergirl mabe.

Narrator Ed.Note: This is the twilight zoned for the next five minutiae you can not understand anything but this fable you have been transported to the twilight zone. This Lady Bosses Secretary one Mrs. June Smithster has been the receiver of a program sent to her inside her snail mail marked as a FIXIT program disc the entire story is now centered around what comes next let's watch what happens…

Charlax the Narrator: June reached into the envelope slowly and opened the disc cover reluctantly she was wondering now just where it had come from it was compelling her to use it she could feel its message somewhere near her left toe and the eye her left eye was twitching like a nervous wrecked her whole face was letting go she had to she had to over and over like a ROBOT compulsion she HAD to place the disc in the BOSSES computor NOW.
June: something is almost forcing me to use this new hardware it's an alien tech rippoff of an image of the MOON it makes me want to dress up and wear my cape out.
Charlax the Narrator: The Bosses Computor is slowly being eaten up by the disc all the contacts on the every list are gone the moral of the CharlaXFabel number 9904 poor gentle reader ewe is never use a disc program to enable accounts not meant to be edited by ewe. The computor is now gone the disc dropped to the floor lets go back and see what happens now…
BOSS: walking in to his office to check on his computor and June Smithster: well that is not funny did the android charlock pick up my computor for cleaning again?
Charlax the Narrator: but there is only silence from the corner of the room where June is laying down curled up in a ball of Supergirl costume her cape lay furled around her like a hobo blanket cover…

Narrator Ed.Note: CharlaXAndroidoneseven is now flying to the moon to save Supergirl he has to disable the program that sent the disc…
Stay tuned to find out more about the MOON in the new twilighted zoned series on CharlaXFabels@

poem by Charles Hice
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Women IV. a prise poem for women

Life without life it's not life
Almost every one will remember
Day and night is cycle of life
Life on its own is not matured
I reiterate well spoken words
Hence its admiral, the day i recognize the significant role of women

Some women can bless the day indeed
with their smiles
with their Assimilate of culture admiral
with high concentration of moral fiber

These are the women of integrity
I talk nothing else but
Women like Nthabiseng Mthethwa
Women like Mapaseka Dlamini
Women like Sebolelo Mokoena
Women like Elsie Moganedi
Look around they are there
To reconstitute norms and Values.

I call them women of integrity

As Harley barley, there are honorable women
Full of high concentration of moral fiber
They adhere to walk the walks
And talk the talks; they are extraordinary in every aspect
Women like Delsile Hlophe
Women like Nonhlanhla Ndlovu
Women like Ellah Ngomane
Women like Whitey Mahlangu
Chronically they remain transparent

I call them honorable women of integrity

Fair remain fair as long as it's fair
There are extraordinary women
They are living in their time
And they are in time with their integrity
They deserve honor as they live it
Perfectionism is not enough
They remain constant and consistent
Women like Mapule Tshabalala
Women like Sara Mahlangu
Women like Selina Madihlaba
They are extraordinary women they deserve their Honor
I fore one applaud them for inherent of their heredity

There are women who are making difference
Printing their footprints

[...] Read more

poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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Poetry Computer

A dozen universities united in one cause,
To make a program for PCs, a total tour de force.
Composing awesome poetry, that stirs the hearts of men,
Towards some global harmony, for now, beyond our ken.

At first, with basic rhymes to use, the program had no clue,
Until they gave it more to choose, to see what it could do.
And hooked up to the Internet, that program poured out stuff,
Though some of it they would regret, there were some things to love.

Their website asked for feedback, so, the visitors replied,
To criticise its form and flow and how they felt inside.
And while most praised it to the hilt, some hated what it wrote,
Poets are born, then taught not built, so they refused to vote.

A little child, aged ten, no more, condemned it from the start,
To state the program broke God's Law, because it lacked a heart.
It had no spirit, had no soul... and no morality...
And thus it lacked all self-control, indeed, true poetry.

The universities agreed, the program was erased...
They chose to help the ones in need, instead of words well phrased.
Their charity got worldwide fame, thanks to their devotion.
That ten-year-old gave them its name: Poetry In Motion...

Denis Martindale, copyright, March 2012.

poem by Denis Martindale
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The Parish Register - Part III: Burials

THERE was, 'tis said, and I believe, a time
When humble Christians died with views sublime;
When all were ready for their faith to bleed,
But few to write or wrangle for their creed;
When lively Faith upheld the sinking heart,
And friends, assured to meet, prepared to part;
When Love felt hope, when Sorrow grew serene,
And all was comfort in the death-bed scene.
Alas! when now the gloomy king they wait,
'Tis weakness yielding to resistless fate;
Like wretched men upon the ocean cast,
They labour hard and struggle to the last;
'Hope against hope,' and wildly gaze around
In search of help that never shall be found:
Nor, till the last strong billow stops the breath,
Will they believe them in the jaws of Death!
When these my Records I reflecting read,
And find what ills these numerous births succeed;
What powerful griefs these nuptial ties attend;
With what regret these painful journeys end;
When from the cradle to the grave I look,
Mine I conceive a melancholy book.
Where now is perfect resignation seen?
Alas! it is not on the village-green: -
I've seldom known, though I have often read,
Of happy peasants on their dying-bed;
Whose looks proclaimed that sunshine of the breast,
That more than hope, that Heaven itself express'd.
What I behold are feverish fits of strife,
'Twixt fears of dying and desire of life:
Those earthly hopes, that to the last endure;
Those fears, that hopes superior fail to cure;
At best a sad submission to the doom,
Which, turning from the danger, lets it come.
Sick lies the man, bewilder'd, lost, afraid,
His spirits vanquish'd, and his strength decay'd;
No hope the friend, the nurse, the doctor lend -
'Call then a priest, and fit him for his end.'
A priest is call'd; 'tis now, alas! too late,
Death enters with him at the cottage-gate;
Or time allow'd--he goes, assured to find
The self-commending, all-confiding mind;
And sighs to hear, what we may justly call
Death's common-place, the train of thought in all.
'True I'm a sinner,' feebly he begins,
'But trust in Mercy to forgive my sins:'
(Such cool confession no past crimes excite!
Such claim on Mercy seems the sinner's right!)
'I know mankind are frail, that God is just,
And pardons those who in his Mercy trust;

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Sacred And Eternal

I am fortunate to be a poet with words periodical
I am fortunate to write poems sacred and eternal.

I am fortunate to see the world in new look
I am fortunate to be in poetic imagination
With evergreen colors sacred and eternal.

I am fortunate to be a part and parcel of the world
That is yours and only yours
And you are for all sacred and eternal.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Fortunate Son

Some folks are born made to wave the flag
Ooh, they're red, white, and blue
And when the band plays hail to the chief
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no senator's son, son, son
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, no
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord, don't they help themselves now
And when the tax man comes to the door
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no millionaire's son, son, son
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, no, no
Some folks inherit star-spangled eyes
Ooh, they send you down to war
And when you ask 'em how much should we give
Ooh, they only answer more, more, more, more
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no military son, son, son
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate one, one, one
It ain't me
It ain't me
I ain't no fortunate son, son, son

song performed by Bob Seger
Added by Lucian Velea
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