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The Most Important Day in My Life

Le 14 septembre 2016, 06:19 dans Humeurs 0

Helen Keller

    The most important day I remember in all my life is the one on which my teacher, Anne Mansfield Sullivan,came to me. I am filled with wonder when I consider the immeasurable contrasts between the two lives which it connects. It was the third of March,1887, three months before I was seven years old.

    On the afternoon of that eventful day, I stood on the porch,dumb, expectant. I guessed vaguely from my mother's signs and from the hurrying to and fro in the house that something unusual was about to happen, so I went to the door and waited on the steps. The afternoon sun penetrated the mass of honeysuckle',event)">honeysuckle that covered the porch,and fell on my upturned face. My fingers fingered almost unconsciously on the familiar leaves and blossoms which had just come forth to greet the sweet southern spring. I did not know what the future held of marvel or surprise for me. Anger and bitterness had preyed upon me continually and a deep languor had succeeded this passionate struggle.

    Have you ever been at sea in a dense fog, when it seemed as if a tangible white darkness shut you in, and the great ship, tense and anxious,groped her way toward the shore with plummet and sounding-line, and you waited with beating heart for something to happen? I was like that ship before my education began, only l was without compass or sounding-line, and had no way of knowing how near the harbour was."Light! Give me light!"was the wordless cry of my oil,and the light of love shone on me in that very tour.

    I felt approaching footsteps,  I stretched out my hand as I supposed to my mother. Some one took it, and I was caught up and held close in the arms of her who had come to reveal all things to me, and, more than all things else, to love me.

    The morning after my teacher came she led me into her room and gave me a doll. The little blind children at the Perkins Institution had sent it and Laura Bridgman had dressed it; but I did not know this until afterward. When I had played with it a little while,Miss Sullivan slowly spelled into my hand the word "d-o-l-l”.t was at once interested in this finger play and tried to imitate it. When t finally succeeded in making the letters correctly I was flushed with childish pleasure and pride.Running downstairs to my mother I held up my hand and made the letters for doll.I did not know that I was spelling a word or even that words existed;I was simply making my fingers go in monkey-like imitation. In the days that followed I learned to spell in this uncomprehending way a great many words, among them pin, hat, cup and a few verbs like sit, stand and walk. But my teacher had been with me several weeks before I understood that everything has a name.

      One day, white I was playing with my new doll,Miss Sullivan put my big rag doll into my lap also, spelled "d-o-l-l”and tried to make me understand that "d-o-l-l”applied to both. Earlier in the day we had had a tussle over the words "m-u-g"and "w-a-t-e-r".Miss Sullivan had tried to impress it upon me that "m-u-g" is mug and that "w-a-t-e-r" is water, but I persisted in confounding the two. In despair she had dropped the subject for the time, only to renew it at the first opportunity.I became impatient at her repeated attempts and,seizing the new doll,I dashed it upon the floor. I was keenly delighted when I felt the fragments of the broken doll at my feet. Neither sorrow nor regret followed my passionate outburst. I had not loved the doll. In the still,dark world in which I lived there was no strong sentiment or tenderness. I felt my teacher sweep the fragments to one side of the hearth,and I had a sense of satisfaction that the cause of my discomfort was removed. She brought me my hat, and I knew I was going out into the warm sunshine. This thought, if a wordless sensation may be called a thought, made me hop and skip with pleasure.

    We walked down the path to the well-house,attracted by the fragrance of the honeysuckle',event)">honeysuckle with which it was covered Some one was drawing water and my teacher placed my hand under the spout. As the cool stream gushed over one hand she spelled into the other the word water, first slowly, then rapidly.I stood still,my whole attention fixed upon the motions of her fingers. Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten-a thrill of returning thought:and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew then that "w-a-t-e-r" meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave it light,hope, joy, set it free! There were barriers still,it is true, but barriers that could in time be swept away.

Suit Is the Best

Le 25 août 2016, 09:14 dans Humeurs 0

The proper force of words lies not in the words themselves, but in their application. A word may be a fine sounding word, of an unusual length, and very imposing 


from its learning and novelty HK Speed Dating , and yet in the connection in which it is introduced may be quite pointless and irrelevant.


 It is not pomp or pretension,but the adaptation of the expression to the idea, that clenches a writer’s meaning: as it is not the size or glossiness of the materials, but their being fitted each to its place pola white shot , that gives strength to the arch; or as the pegs and nails are as necessary to the support of the building as the larger timber, and more so than the mere showy, unsubstantial ornaments.


 I hate anything that occupies more space than it is worth. I hate to see a load of bandboxes go along the street pola white shot , and I hate to see a parcel of big words without anything in them. A person who dews not deliberately dimples of all his thoughts alike in cumbrous draperies ancj flimsy disguises may strike out twenty varieties of familiar everyday language, each coming somewhat nearer to the feeling he wants to convey, and at last not hit upon that particular and only one which may be said to be identical with the exact impression in his mind. This would seem to show that Mr.


 Cobalt is hardly right in saying that the first word that occurs is always the best.It may be a very good one; and yet a better may present itself on reflection or from time to time. It may be suggested naturally, however, and spontaneously, from a fresh and lively conception of the subject


Three Passions I have Live For

Le 9 août 2016, 09:44 dans Humeurs 0

Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong,have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge theradome reviews , and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither, in a wayward course over a deep ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair.


I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy-ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all the rest of my life for a few hours for this joy. I have sought it,next, because it relieves loneliness-that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have

sought it, finally, because in the union of love I have seen,in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life dry dog food , this is what-at last -I have found.


With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men. I have wished to

know why the stars shine... A little of this, but not much, I have achieved.


Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible business centre , led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes of cries of pain reverberate in my heart. Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors,helpless old people a hated burden to their sons, and the whole world of loneliness, poverty, and pain make a mockery of what human life should be. I long to alleviate the evil, but I cannot, and I too suffer.


This has been my life. I have found it worth living, and would gladly live it again if the chance were offered me.

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