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On page 23.
"Me acuerdo ahorita del sistema nerviosa parasimpático. En la clase de Naturales (el año pasado), al bruto de Omar se le ocurrió pregunarle al profe si también había un sistema nervioso parahorrible."
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Dec 07, 2015 09:29AM
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(page 245 of 386)
""Only one American hero was to emerge from what happened at Fort Washington. She was Margaret ("Molly") Corbin, the wife of a Pennsylvania soldier, John Corbin, who had gone into battle at her husband's side, and when he was killed, stepped into his place, to load and fire a cannon, until she fell wounded, nearly losing one arm. After the surrender, she was allowed by her captors to return home to Pennsylvania."" — Nov 27, 2015 11:15PM
""Only one American hero was to emerge from what happened at Fort Washington. She was Margaret ("Molly") Corbin, the wife of a Pennsylvania soldier, John Corbin, who had gone into battle at her husband's side, and when he was killed, stepped into his place, to load and fire a cannon, until she fell wounded, nearly losing one arm. After the surrender, she was allowed by her captors to return home to Pennsylvania."" — Nov 27, 2015 11:15PM
“Funeral Blues
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.”
― Another Time
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.”
― Another Time
Brittany’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Brittany’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
446 books
|
117 friends
900 books
|
50 friends
66 books
|
43 friends
0 books
|
9 friends
43 books
|
209 friends
17 books
|
31 friends
13 books
|
65 friends
3 books
|
57 friends
More friends…
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