I am the poet of the poor, because I was poor when I loved; since I could not give gifts, I gave words.

SUN, MOON, AND STARRY SKYEarly summer evenings, when the first stars come out, the warm glow of sunset still stains the rim of the western sky.Sometimes, the moon is also visible, a pale white slice, while the sun tarries.Just think -- all the celestial lights are present at the same time!These are moments of wonder -- see them and remember.

All other creatures look down toward the earth, but man was given a face so that might turn his eyes toward the stars and his gaze upon the sky.

Right it is to be taught even by the enemy.

And now the measure of my song is done: The work has reached its end; the book is mine, None shall unwrite these words: nor angry Jove, Nor war, nor fire, nor flood, Nor venomous time that eats our lives away. Then let that morning come, as come it will, When this disguise I carry shall be no more, And all the treacherous years of life undone, And yet my name shall rise to heavenly music, The deathless music of the circling stars. As long as Rome is the Eternal City These lines shall echo from the lips of men, As long as poetry speaks truth on earth, That immortality is mine to wear.

Although the gods were in the distant skies,Pythagoras drew near them with his mind;what nature had denied to human sight,he saw with his intellect, his mental eye.When he, with reason and tenacious care,had probed all things, he taught-- to those who gatheredin silence and amazement-- what he'd learnedof the beginnings of the universe,of what caused things to happen, and what istheir nature: what god is, whence come the snows,what is the origin of lightning bolts--whether it is the thundering winds or Jovethat cleave the cloudbanks-- and what is the cause of earthquakes, and what laws control the courseof stars: in sum, whatever had been hid,Pythagoras revealed.