Pisa Quotes

(Jace) "Is there anything special you want to see? Paris? Budapest? The Leaning Tower of Pisa?" Only if it falls on Sebastian's head, she thought.

I am with you. I'm not going anywhere." "Is there anything special you want to see? Paris? Budapest? The Leaning Tower of Pisa?" Only if it falls on Sebastian's head, she thought. "Can we travel to Idris? I mean, I guess, can the apartment travel there?" "It can't get past the wards." His hand traced a path down her cheek. "You know,I really missed you." "You mean you haven't been going on romantic dates with Sebastian while you've been away from me?" "I tried", Jace said, "but no matter how liquored up you get him , he just won't put out.

Sure, the Leaning Tower of Pisa leaned like everyone else said it would, the mountains of Tibet were more beautiful than you had ever expected, and the Pyramids of Egypt stood mysteriously in the sea of sand like in the pictures; yet is it the environment or rather the openness in mindset, that makes up the elusive essence of happiness that we experience when we travel?

El amor es un elemento... Como el aire que se respira, o el suelo que se pisa.

Yo te he nombrado reina. Hay más altas que tú, más altas. Hay más puras que tú, más puras. Hay más bellas que tú, hay más bellas. Pero tú eres la reina. Cuando vas por las calles nadie te reconoce. Nadie ve tú corona de cristal, nadie mira la alfombra de oro rojo que pisas cuando pasas, la alfombra que no existe. Y cuando asomas suenan todos los ríos en mi cuerpo, sacuden el cielo las campanas, y un himno llena el mundo Sóló tú y yo, sóló tú y yo, amor mío, lo escuchamos.

Pues amo el suelo que pisa y el aire que respira y todo lo que toca y lo que dice. Me gusta su forma de mirar y de comportarse, me gusta todo él de arriba abajo. ¡Ya está!

-El amor es un lujo. -No. El amor es un elemento. Un elemento. Como el aire que se respira, o el suelo que se pisa.

Truth, like time, is an idea arising from, and dependent upon, human intercourse. — The Roads Round Pisa

The purity of the message makes it even more remarkable. It’s easy to tell someone about the Leaning Tower. Much harder to tell them about the Pantheon in Rome. So, even though the Pantheon is beautiful, breathtaking, and important, it sees 1 percent of the crowds that the harder-to-get-to Tower in Pisa gets.

Por lo menos estaba siendo honesto. Como ya he dicho, siempre prefiero la verdad –por desagradable que ésta pueda ser— a una mentira. Con la verdad, uno sabe el terreno que pisa.

Statistically speaking, tracking tended to diminish learning and boost inequality wherever it was tried. In general, the younger tracking happened, the worse the entire country did on PISA. There seemed to be some kind of ghetto effect: once kids were labeled and segregated into the lower track, their learning slowed down.

Pai, ter a tua memória dentro da minha é como carregar uma saca às costas com uma vingança guardada para este mundo que nos castiga, cruel, este mundo que pisa aquele outro que pudemos viver juntos, que sempre nos orgulharemos, que amámos para nunca esquecer.

Bem, amo o chão que ele pisa e o ar que o rodeia e tudo quanto ele toca e tudo o que ele diz. Gosto das feições dele e de todas as suas acções;gosto dele todo. Pronto!

From the first lines I began to feel bad. In Pisa, the bad feeling increased, over days, over months. Every word of Lila’s diminished me. Every sentence, even sentences written when she was still a child, seemed to empty out mine, not the ones of that time but the ones now. And yet every page ignited my thoughts, my ideas, my pages as if until that moment I had lived in a studious but ineffectual stupor.

Here’s how Andreas Schleicher, who directs those PISA tests, puts it: “The best way to find out whether what students have learned at school matters for their life is to actually watch what happens to them after they leave school.

She was never tired of praising Italy at the expense of England. “. . . our poor English,” she exclaimed, “want educating into gladness. They want refining not in the fire but in the sunshine.” Here in Italy were freedom and life and the joy that the sun breeds. One never saw men fighting, or heard them swearing; one never saw the Italians drunk;—“the faces of those men” in Shoreditch came again before her eyes. She was always comparing Pisa with London and saying how much she preferred Pisa.

Economists had found an almost one-to-one match between PISA scores and a nation's long term economic growth. Many other things influenced economic growth, of course, but the ability of a workforce to learn, think and adapt was the ultimate stimulus package...For students, PISA scores were a better predictor of who would go to college than report cards...PISA wasn't measuring memorization; it was measuring aspiration.

All republics that acquire supremacy over other nations, rule them selfishly and oppressively. There is no exception to this in either ancient or modern times. Carthage, Rome, Venice, Genoa, Florence, Pisa, Holland, and Republican France, all tyrannized over every province and subject state where they gained authority.

And then one morning the soldiers grew suddenly still as the heavy latches were lifted and turned. Just before the doors slid apart, a man from Pisa took the opportunity to say, "The air is thin. We're in the mountains." Alessandro straightened his back and raised his head. The mountains, unpredictable in their power, were the heart of his recollection, and he knew that the Pisano was right. He had known it all along from the way the train took the many grades, from the metallic thunder of bridges over which they had run in the middle of the night, and from the white sound of streams falling and flowing in velocities that could have been imparted only by awesome mountainsides.

Flush highly approves of Pisa (and the roasted chestnuts), because here he goes out every day and speaks Italian to the little dogs.

He extendido mis sueños bajo tus pies Pasa suavemente, pues pisas mis sueños.

Holy Washington monument, batman. He was huge, like leaning tower of Pisa plus Big Ben, plus Ron Jeremy huge.

Under white clouds, cielo di Pisa. Out of all this beauty something must come.

—El amor es un lujo. —No. El amor es un elemento. Un elemento. Como el aire que se respira, o el suelo que se pisa.

What counts is not the data, but the mind that deals with them. The data that Galileo, Newton, Ricardo, Menger, and Freud made use of for their great discoveries lay at the disposal of every one of their contemporaries and of untold previous generations. Galileo was certainly not the first to observe the swinging motion of the chandelier in the cathedral at Pisa.

Os dois degraus da varanda — "Fui justo", repete, "fui justo" —, com mão firme gira a chave. Abre a porta, pisa na carta e, sentando-se na poltrona, lê o jornal em voz alta para não ouvir os gritos do silêncio.

La vida había continuado después, la vida continúa siempre. Te da razones para llorar y razones para reír. Es la vida, Joséphine, confía en ella. La vida es una persona, una persona que hay que tomar por compañera. Entrar en su corriente, en sus remolinos, a veces te hace tragar agua y te crees que vas a morir, y después te agarra por el pelo y te deja más lejos. A veces te hace bailar, otra te pisa los pies. Hay que entrar en la vida como se entra en un baile. No parar el movimiento llorando por uno, acusando a los demás, bebiendo, tomando pastillitas para amortiguar el choque. Bailar, bailar, bailar. Pasar las pruebas que te envía para hacerte más fuerte, más determinada.

Linda finds herself engaged in a strange and exhausting abdominal exercise as she tries to steer away from the wide mass of Florida without touching the sleeping passenger on her other side. She feels like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Worldwide, gods tend to look like their human worshippers, e.g., in this case, black-skinned. Interestingly, all around the Mediterranean the Christian Madonna and Child appear in very old images and statuary as black, like their Egyptian predecessors: Examples may be found in the Cathedral at Moulins, the Chapel of the Virgin at Loretto, the Church of St. Stephen at Genoa, that of St. Francisco at Pisa and in many other places. There is "scarcely an old church in Italy where some remains of the black virgin and black child are not to be met with." In this regard, "the black god Chrishna was but a symbol of the Sun, and...the black virgin mother was nothing more than the virgin of the constellations, painted black..."146

Se pisa un pie con el otro, como si al tocar menos tierra del sótano estuviera menos encerrado en el. Cierra los ojos. Es mi superpoder, piensa: hacer una oscuridad aún más oscura que la que me rodea. Deja de llorar - EN LA TIERRA SOMOS FUGAZMENTE GRANDIOSOS

It is said that Galileo demonstrated that Aristotle’s belief was false by dropping weights from the leaning tower of Pisa. The story is almost certainly untrue, but Galileo did do something equivalent: he rolled balls of different weights down a smooth slope.

Tom found it amusing, strangely nervous-making, Chris’s enthusiasm. Tom remembered his own mad joy—though there’d been no one for him to speak to—at his first glimpse of the Leaning Tower of Pisa from a moving train, his first view of the curving lights of Cannes’ shore.

It was during the stay at Pisa, and early in the year 1847, that Mr. Browning first became acquainted with his wife’s ‘Sonnets from the Portuguese.’ Written during the course of their courtship and engagement, they were not shown even to him until some months after their marriage.

This strange new test called PISA, which stood for the Program for International Student Assessment. Instead of a typical test question, which might ask which combination of coins you needed to buy something, PISA asked you to design your own coins, right there in the test booklet.

A cosa servivano gli anni del ginnasio, del liceo, della Normale, dentro quella città? Per arrivare a San Giovanni dovetti per forza regredire, quasi che Lila fosse andata ad abitare non in una strada, in una piazza, ma in un rivolo del tempo passato, prima che andassimo a scuola, un tempo nero senza norma e senza rispetto. Ricorsi al dialetto più violento del rione, insultai, fui insultata, minacciai, fui sfottuta, risposi a mia volta sfottendo, un'arte malvagia a cui ero addestrata. Napoli mi era servita molto a Pisa, ma Pisa non serviva a Napoli, era un intralcio.

Father Gabriele Amorth, a Roman Catholic priest, and a skilled and experienced exorcist of the Diocese of Rome, is personally convinced that the Nazis were “all possessed.” He adds: “All you have to do is think about what Hitler—and Stalin—did. Almost certainly they were possessed by the Devil” (Pisa, 2006).

Demeter lost her gaeity for ever when young Core, afterwards called Persephone, was taken from her. Hades fell in love with Core, and went to ask Zeus’s leave to marry her. Zeus feared to offtend his older brother by a downright refusal, but knew also that Demeter would not forgive him if Core were committed to Tartarus; he therefore answered politically that he could neither give nor withold his consent. This emboldened Hades to abduct the girl, as she was picking flowers in a meadow-it may have been at Sicilian Enno; r at Attic Colonus; or at Hermione; or somewhere in Crete, or near Pisa, or near Lerna; or beside Arcadian Phenus, or at Boetian Nysa, or anywhere else in the widely separated regions which Demeter visited in her wandering search for Core. But her own priests say it was at Eleusis. She sought Core without rest for nine days and nights, neither eating nor drinking, and calling fruitlessly all the while.

They suspected that children learned best through undirected free play—and that a child’s psyche was sensitive and fragile. During the 1980s and 1990s, American parents and teachers had been bombarded by claims that children’s self-esteem needed to be protected from competition (and reality) in order for them to succeed. Despite a lack of evidence, the self-esteem movement took hold in the United States in a way that it did not in most of the world. So, it was understandable that PTA parents focused their energies on the nonacademic side of their children’s school. They dutifully sold cupcakes at the bake sales and helped coach the soccer teams. They doled out praise and trophies at a rate unmatched in other countries. They were their kids’ boosters, their number-one fans. These were the parents that Kim’s principal in Oklahoma praised as highly involved. And PTA parents certainly contributed to the school’s culture, budget, and sense of community. However, there was not much evidence that PTA parents helped their children become critical thinkers. In most of the countries where parents took the PISA survey, parents who participated in a PTA had teenagers who performed worse in reading. Korean parenting, by contrast, were coaches. Coach parents cared deeply about their children, too. Yet they spent less time attending school events and more time training their children at home: reading to them, quizzing them on their multiplication tables while they were cooking dinner, and pushing them to try harder. They saw education as one of their jobs.

Christianity initially rejected zero, but trade would soon demand it. The man who reintroduced zero to the West was Leonardo of Pisa. The son of an Italian trader, he traveled to northern Africa. There the young man-better known as Fibonacci-learned Mathematics from the Muslims and soon became a good mathematician in his own right.

Cavendish jolts up, riding knee-to-knee. ‘His reliquary!’ George is upset, astonished. ‘To part with it like this! It is a piece of the true Cross!’ ‘We'll get him another. I know a man in Pisa makes them ten for five florins and a round dozen for cash up front. And you get a certificate with St Peter's thumbprint, to say they're genuine.

Educational achievements of US students (or a lack thereof) are scrutinized with every new edition of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development’s Program for International Student Assessment, or PISA. The latest results (2018) for 15-year-olds show that, in math, the United States ranks just below Russia, Slovakia, and Spain, but far

Siento, luego existo es una verdad que posee una validez mucho más general y se refiere a todo lo vivo. Mi yo no se diferencia esencialmente del de ustedes por lo que piensa. Gente hay mucha, ideas pocas: todos pensamos aproximadamente lo mismo y las ideas nos las traspasamos, las pedimos prestadas, las robamos. Pero cuando alguien me pisa un pie, el dolor sólo lo siento yo. La base del yo no es el pensamiento, sino el sufrimiento, que es el más básico de todos los sentimientos. En el sufrimiento, ni siquiera un gato puede dudar de su intransferible yo. En un sufrimiento fuerte, el mundo desaparece y cada uno de nosotros está a solas consigo mismo. El sufrimiento es la universidad del egocentrismo

Economists had found an almost one-to-one match between PISA scores and a nation's long-term economic growth. Many other things influenced economic growth, of course, but the ability of a workforce to learn, think, and adapt was the ultimate stimulus package. If the United States had Finland's PISA scores, GDP would be increasing at the rate of one to two trillion dollars per year.

Il puro e semplice fatto di trovarmi in quel luogo costituiva ai miei occhi la prova che il rione, Napoli, Pisa, Firenze, Milano, l'Italia stessa, erano minuscole schegge di mondo e che di quelle schegge facevo bene a non accontentarmi più. [...] Era meraviglioso valicare confini, lasciarsi andare dentro alle altre culture, scoprire la provvisorietà di ciò che avevo scambiato per definitivo.

This cathedral! After all, the elaborate grace of the Pisan cathedral is one thing, and the massive grandeur of this of Florence is another and better thing; it struck me with a sense of the sublime in architecture. At Pisa we say, ‘How beautiful!’ here we say nothing; it is enough if we can breathe. The mountainous marble masses overcome as we look up — we feel the weight of them on the soul.

Cuando yo era joven pensaba que para navegar por el mundo bastaba con aprender a hacer bien tres cosas. Una:atarse los cordones de los zapatos. Dos: desnudar a una mujer a conciencia. Y tres: leer para saborear cada día unas páginas compuestas con luz y destreza. Me parecía que un hombre que pisa firma, sabe acariciar y aprende a escuchar la música de las palabras vive más y, sobre todo, vive mejor.

Los florentinos, que carecían de ejércitos propios, trajeron diez mil franceses para conquistar a Pisa; y esta resolución les hizo correr más peligros de los que corrieran nunca en ninguna época. El emperador de Constantinopla, para ayudar a sus vecinos, puso en Grecia diez mil turcos, los cuales, una vez concluida la guerra, se negaron a volver a su patria; de donde empezó la servidumbre de Grecia bajo el yugo de los infieles.

lower than Canada, Germany, and Japan. In science, US schoolchildren place just below the mean PISA score (497 versus 501); in reading, they are barely above it (498 versus 496)—and they are far behind all the populous, affluent Western nations. PISA, like any such study, has its weaknesses, but large differences in relative rankings are clear: there is not even a remote indication of any exceptional US educational achievements.

Si hay alguien en este mundo en quien puedes confiar es en Marlene. Marlene es una montaña, como lo era antes mi madre, y no una voluble paloma atrapada en una tormenta que de pronto está completamente fuera de sí un jueves cualquiera. Marlene es tan firme como el suelo que pisa, ya sean las dos o las cinco de la tarde. Nunca falla, su humor es estable y no tiene la menor idea de qué es el miedo; en realidad, todo el mundo debería tener una madre como ella.

Yo te he nombrado reina. Hay más altas que tú, más altas. Hay más puras que tú, más puras. Hay más bellas que tú, hay más bellas. Pero tú eres la reina. Cuando vas por las calles nadie te reconoce. Nadie ve tu corona de cristal, nadie mira la alfombra de oro rojo que pisas donde pasas, la alfombra que no existe. Y cuando asomas suenan todos los ríos en mi cuerpo, sacuden el cielo las campanas, y un himno llena el mundo. Sólo tú y yo, sólo tú y yo, amor mío, lo escuchamos.

Gente que anda descalça. Que calça a terra que pisa. (...) Embora admita que, de algum modo, esta orfandade de pertença desenhou nele uma tatuagem cardíaca. (...) é o que acontece quando fazemos turismo; baixamos a guarda. (...) A cidade é um mar que nos pode engolir a qualquer momento, um monstro que nos pode golpear sem aviso, um inferno de variáveis incertezas. (...) Se a velhice me ensinou algo, é isto: a consciência plena dos desperdícios em favor das nossas próprias tolices.

Para chegar a San Giovanni tive necessariamente que regredir,quase como se Lila tivesse ido morar não em uma rua, em uma praça, mas num riacho do tempo passado, antes que fôssemos para a escola, um tempo negro, sem norma e sem respeito. Recorri ao dialeto mais violento do bairro, insultei, fui insultada, ameacei, fui sacaneada, respondi por minha vez sacaneando, uma arte torpe na qual eu era adestrada. Nápoles me servira muito em Pisa, mas Pisa não servia em Nápoles, era um estorvo.

A morte dos outros anula uma parte das nossas liberdades, de não haver eco do amor que lhes temos, da impossibilidade de aço que se nos coloca de chegar até eles. Ninguém colmata a falta que o meu pai me faz, como ninguém preencherá o vazio de alguém que já não pisa o mesmo chão que nós. A crença é uma boa forma de lidar com a morte, mas a falta de garantias de que a vida depois da morte é como preconizam traz sempre um lastro de dor. De saudade. E da memória do que de mais belo a vida teve.

But in an instant Blake stepped in front of her, turning his back to Chris and the gun. The shot was so much louder than anything else in the woods. And it seemed to echo forever. Livia watched Blake’s face in horror as he fell toward her, leaning for a moment like the Tower of Pisa. She staggered back, trying to hold him as they both collapsed to the forest floor. Livia knew he was tremendously injured when his body hit hers so hard. If he could have, she knew Blake would’ve softened the blow.

Per arrivare a San Giovanni dovetti per forza regredire, quasi che Lila fosse andata ad abitare non in una strada, in una piazza, ma in un rivolo dl tempo passato, prima che andassimo a scuola, un tempo nero senza norma e senza rispetto [...] Napoli era servita molto a Pisa, ma Pisa non serviva a Napoli, era un intralcio. Le buone maniere, la voce e l'aspetto curati, la ressa nella testa e sulla lingua di ciò che avevo imparato sui libri, erano tutti segnali immediati di debolezza che mi rendevano una preda sicura, di quelle che non si divincolano.

But soon Flush became aware of the more profound differences that distinguish Pisa—it was in Pisa that they were now settled—from London. The dogs were different. In London he could scarcely trot round to the pillar-box without meeting some pug dog, retriever, bulldog, mastiff, collie, Newfoundland, St. Bernard, fox terrier or one of the seven famous families of the Spaniel tribe. To each he gave a different name, and to each a different rank. But here in Pisa, though dogs abounded, there were no ranks; all—could it be possible?—were mongrels. As far as he could see, they were dogs merely—grey dogs, yellow dogs, brindled dogs, spotted dogs; but it was impossible to detect a single spaniel, collie, retriever or mastiff among them. Had the Kennel Club, then, no jurisdiction in Italy? Was the Spaniel Club unknown? Was there no law which decreed death to the topknot, which cherished the curled ear, protected the feathered foot, and insisted absolutely that the brow must be domed but not pointed? Apparently not. Flush felt himself like a prince in exile. He was the sole aristocrat among a crowd of canaille. He was the only pure-bred cocker spaniel in the whole of Pisa.

Vida, yo te extraño, antes de resibir tu carta andaba raro, con miedo de enfermarme de veras, pero ahora cada vez que leo tu carta me vuelve la confianza. Qué felices vamos a ser, rubí, te voy a tomar todo el vinito que tenés adentro, y me voy a agarrar una curda de las buenas, una curda alegre, total después me dejás dormir una siesta al lado tuyo, a la vista de tu vieja, no te asustes, ella que nos vijile nomás ¿y el viejo, nadie le pisa los almásigos ahora que no estoy yo? Bueno mi amor, escribime pronto una de esas cartas lindas tuyas, mandamela pronto, no la pienses como yo. Te quiero de verdad, Juan Carlos

The anarch learns how to read and write if and when it pleases him. Many children are drawn to a book by innate curiosity. Charlemagne was still illiterate after many years of ruling his tremendous empire. Even when associating with scholars like Alcuin and Peter of Pisa, he had not gotten very far with writing; after all, he had more and better things to do. It is unlikely that Homer knew how to write; the letter inhibits free singing. At any rate, caution is indicated when a boat leaves the sea and glides into the canals—the most dangerous thing of all is numbers. As a historian, I depend on the written word; as an anarch, I can do without it.

Some of the greatest mathematical minds of all ages, from Pythagoras and Euclid in ancient Greece, through the medieval Italian mathematician Leonardo of Pisa and the Renaissance astronomer Johannes Kepler, to present-day scientific figures such as Oxford physicist Roger Penrose, have spent endless hours over this simple ratio and its properties. But the fascination with the Golden Ratio is not confined just to mathematicians. Biologists, artists, musicians, historians, architects, psychologists, and even mystics have pondered and debated the basis of its ubiquity and appeal. In fact, it is probably fair to say that the Golden Ratio has inspired thinkers of all disciplines like no other number in the history of mathematics.

The University of Pisa, whose scientific reputation throughout Italy was second only to that of Padua, was informed by official decree: 'His Highness [Cosimo III] will allow no professor ... to read or teach, in public or private, by writing or by voice, the philosophy of Democritus, or of atoms, or any saving that of Aristotle.' There was no avoiding this educational censorship, for at the same time a decree was issued forbidding citizens of Tuscany from attending any university beyond its borders, while philosophers and intellectuals who disobeyed this decree were liable to punitive fines or even imprisonment. Gone were the days when the Medici were the patrons of poets and scientists; Florence, once one of the great intellectual and cultural centres of Europe, now sank into repression and ignorance.

Lo que menos odio es la parte mecánica, rutinaria, de mi trabajo: el volver a pasar un asiento que ya redacté miles de veces, el efectuar un balance de saldos y encontrar que todo está en orden, que no hay diferencias a buscar. Ese tipo de labor no me cansa, porque me permite pensar en otras cosas y hasta (¿por qué no decírmelo a mí mismo?) también soñar. Es como si me dividiera en dos entes dispares, contradictorios, independientes, uno que sabe de memoria su trabajo, que domina al máximo sus variantes y recovecos, que está seguro siempre de dónde pisa, y otro soñador y febril, frustradamente apasionado, un tipo triste que, sin embargo, tuvo, tiene y tendrá vocación de alegría, un distraído a quien no le importa por dónde corre la pluma ni qué cosas escribe la tinta azul que a los ocho meses quedará negra

This kind of parenting was typical in much of Asia—and among Asian immigrant parents living in the United States. Contrary to the stereotype, it did not necessarily make children miserable. In fact, children raised in this way in the United States tended not only to do better in school but to actually enjoy reading and school more than their Caucasian peers enrolled in the same schools. While American parents gave their kids placemats with numbers on them and called it a day, Asian parents taught their children to add before they could read. They did it systematically and directly, say, from six-thirty to seven each night, with a workbook—not organically, the way many American parents preferred their children to learn math. The coach parent did not necessarily have to earn a lot of money or be highly educated. Nor did a coach parent have to be Asian, needless to say. The research showed that European-American parents who acted more like coaches tended to raise smarter kids, too. Parents who read to their children weekly or daily when they were young raised children who scored twenty-five points higher on PISA by the time they were fifteen years old. That was almost a full year of learning. More affluent parents were more likely to read to their children almost everywhere, but even among families within the same socioeconomic group, parents who read to their children tended to raise kids who scored fourteen points higher on PISA. By contrast, parents who regularly played with alphabet toys with their young children saw no such benefit. And at least one high-impact form of parental involvement did not actually involve kids or schools at all: If parents simply read for pleasure at home on their own, their children were more likely to enjoy reading, too. That pattern held fast across very different countries and different levels of family income. Kids could see what parents valued, and it mattered more than what parents said. Only four in ten parents in the PISA survey regularly read at home for enjoyment. What if they knew that this one change—which they might even vaguely enjoy—would help their children become better readers themselves? What if schools, instead of pleading with parents to donate time, muffins, or money, loaned books and magazines to parents and urged them to read on their own and talk about what they’d read in order to help their kids? The evidence suggested that every parent could do things that helped create strong readers and thinkers, once they knew what those things were. Parents could go too far with the drills and practice in academics, just as they could in sports, and many, many Korean parents did go too far. The opposite was also true. A coddled, moon bounce of a childhood could lead to young adults who had never experienced failure or developed self-control or endurance—experiences that mattered as much or more than academic skills. The evidence suggested that many American parents treated their children as if they were delicate flowers. In one Columbia University study, 85 percent of American parents surveyed said that they thought they needed to praise their children’s intelligence in order to assure them they were smart. However, the actual research on praise suggested the opposite was true. Praise that was vague, insincere, or excessive tended to discourage kids from working hard and trying new things. It had a toxic effect, the opposite of what parents intended. To work, praise had to be specific, authentic, and rare. Yet the same culture of self-esteem boosting extended to many U.S. classrooms.

Finnish education appears paradoxical to outside observers because it seems to break a lot of the rules. In Finland, “less is more.” Children don’t start academics1 until the year they turn seven. They have a lot of recess (ten to fifteen minutes every forty-five minutes, even through high school), shorter school hours than we do in the United States (Finnish children spend nearly three hundred fewer hours2 in elementary school per year than Americans), and the lightest homework load of any industrialized nation. There are no gifted programs, few private schools, and no high-stakes national standardized tests. Yet over the past decade, Finland has consistently performed at the top on the Program for International Student Assessment (PISA), a standardized test given to fifteen-year-olds in nations around the world. While American children3 usually hover around the middle of the pack on this test, Finland’s excel.

Capii che voleva prendersi ogni cosa possibile, Stefano, le salumerie, i soldi, la casa, le macchine. E pensai che fosse un suo diritto combattere quella battaglia, chi più chi meno la combattevamo tutti. Cercai solo di calmarla perché era pallidissima, aveva occhi infiammati. E fui contenta di sentire quanto mi era grata, provai piacere a essere consultata come una veggente, a distribuire consigli in un buon italiano che confondeva lei come Pasquale, come Pinuccia. Ecco, pensai con sarcasmo, a cosa servono gli esami di storia, la filologia classica, la glottologia e le migliaia di schede con cui mi addestro al rigore: ad acquietarli per qualche ora. Mi consideravano al di sopra delle parti, priva di cattivi sentimenti e di passioni, sterilizzata dallo studio. E io accettai il ruolo che mi avevano assegnato senza accennare alle mie angosce, alle mie audacie, alle volte che a Pisa avevo messo a rischio tutto lasciando entrare Franco nella mia stanza o intrufolandomi io da lui, alla vacanza che avevamo fatto da soli in Versilia vivendo insieme come se fossimo sposati. Mi sentii contenta di me.

Mientras uno va y viene por la tierra natal, se imagina que le son indiferentes esas calles, que esas ventanas, esos tejados y esas puertas le dan lo mismo, que esas paredes le son ajenas, que esos árboles son unos árboles cualesquiera, que esas casas en que no entra no le valen para nada, que esos adoquines que pisa son sólo piedras. Más adelante, cuando ya no está allí, se da cuenta de que esas calles le son queridas, de que echa de menos esos tejados, esas ventanas y esas puertas, de que necesita esas paredes, de que esos árboles son dilectos para él, de que en esas casas donde no entraba sí entraba a diario y de que en esos adoquines se ha dejado las entrañas, la sangre y el corazón. Todos esos sitios que ya no ve, que a lo mejor no volverá a ver ya, y cuya imagen conserva, adquieren un encanto doloroso, regresan a la memoria con la melancolía de una aparición, vuelven visible esa tierra santa y son, por así decirlo, la mismísima forma de Francia, y uno las quieres y las evoca tal y como son, tal y como eran, y se empecina, y no quiere cambiar nada, porque le tenemos el mismo apego al rostro de la patria que al rostro de nuestra madre.

Doubtless, if, at that time, I had paid more attention to what was in my mind when I pronounced the words "going to Florence, to Parma, to Pisa, to Venice,” I should have realised that what I saw was in no sense a town, but something as different from anything that I knew, something as delicious, as might be, for a human race whose whole existence had passed in a series of late winter afternoons, that inconceivable marvel, a morning in spring. These images, unreal, fixed, always alike, filling all my nights and days, differentiated this period in my life from those which had gone before it (and might easily have been confused with it by an observer who saw things only from without, that is to say who saw nothing), as in an opera a melodic theme introduces a novel atmosphere which one could never have suspected if one had done no more than read the libretto, still less if one had remained outside the theatre counting only the minutes as they passed. And besides, even from the point of view of mere quantity, in our lives the days are not all equal. To get through each day, natures that are at all highly strung, as was mine, are equipped, like motor-cars, with different gears. There are mountainous, arduous days, up which one takes an infinite time to climb, and downward-sloping days which one can descend at full tilt, singing as one goes. During this month—in which I turned over and over in my mind, like a tune of which one never tires, these visions of Florence, Venice, Pisa, of which the desire that they excited in me retained something as profoundly personal as if it had been love, love for a person—I never ceased to believe that they corresponded to a reality independent of myself, and they made me conscious of as glorious a hope as could have been cherished by a Christian in the primitive age of faith on the eve of his entry into Paradise. Thus, without my paying any heed to the contradiction that there was in my wishing to look at and to touch with the organs of my senses what had been elaborated by the spell of my dreams and not perceived by my senses at all—though all the more tempting to them, in consequence, more different from anything that they knew— it was that which recalled to me the reality of these visions that most inflamed my desire, by seeming to offer the promise that it would be gratified.

POEM – MY AMAZING TRAVELS [My composition in my book Travel Memoirs with Pictures] My very first trip I still cannot believe Was planned and executed with such great ease. My father, an Inspector of Schools, was such a strict man, He gave in to my wishes when I told him of the plan. I got my first long vacation while working as a banker One of my co-workers wanted a travelling partner. She visited my father and discussed the matter Arrangements were made without any flutter. We travelled to New York, Toronto, London, and Germany, In each of those places, there was somebody, To guide and protect us and to take us wonderful places, It was a dream come true at our young ages. We even visited Holland, which was across the Border. To drive across from Germany was quite in order. Memories of great times continue to linger, I thank God for an understanding father. That trip in 1968 was the beginning of much more, I visited many countries afterward I am still in awe. Barbados, Tobago, St. Maarten, and Buffalo, Cirencester in the United Kingdom, Miami, and Orlando. I was accompanied by my husband on many trips. Sisters, nieces, children, grandchildren, and friends, travelled with me a bit. Puerto Rico, Los Angeles, New York, and Hialeah, Curacao, Caracas, Margarita, Virginia, and Anguilla. We sailed aboard the Creole Queen On the Mississippi in New Orleans We traversed the Rockies in Colorado And walked the streets in Cozumel, Mexico. We were thrilled to visit the Vatican in Rome, The Trevi Fountain and the Colosseum. To explore the countryside in Florence, And to sail on a Gondola in Venice. My fridge is decorated with magnets Souvenirs of all my visits London, Madrid, Bahamas, Coco Cay, Barcelona. And the Leaning Tower of Pisa How can I forget the Spanish Steps in Rome? Stratford upon Avon, where Shakespeare was born. CN Tower in Toronto so very high I thought the elevator would take me to the sky. Then there was El Poble and Toledo Noted for Spanish Gold We travelled on the Euro star. The scenery was beautiful to behold! I must not omit Cartagena in Columbia, Anaheim, Las Vegas, and Catalina, Key West, Tampa, Fort Lauderdale, and Pembroke Pines, Places I love to lime. Of course, I would like to make special mention, Of two exciting cruises with Royal Caribbean. Majesty of the Seas and Liberty of the Seas Two ships which grace the Seas. Last but not least and best of all We visited Paris in the fall. Cologne, Dusseldorf, and Berlin Amazing places, which made my head, spin. Copyright@BrendaMohammed

Com alguma dificuldade - eu estava absorvida por outros assuntos - fui cordial com Franco, me entretive todas as noites conversando com ele até tarde da noite. Apreciei que, em vez de me falar de política, tenha preferido contar mais a si mesmo que a mim como tínhamos estado bem juntos: nossos passeios em pisa na primavera, o mau cheiro do Lungarno, as vezes em que me confidenciara fatos de sua infância, dos pais, dos avós, que nunca havia dito a ninguém. Gostei sobretudo que tenha me deixado falar de minhas ansiedades, do novo contrato que tinha assinado com a editora, portanto da necessidade de escrever um novo livro, do possível retorno a Nápoles, de Nino. Nunca recorreu a generalizações ou a floreios de palavras. Ao contrário, foi direto, quase vulgar. Se você se preocupa mais com ele do que com você - me falou certa noite em que estava como aturdido -, deve aceitá-lo do jeito que é: com mulher, filhos, essa tendência permanente a trepar com outras mulheres, as canalhices de que é e de que será capaz. Lena, Lenuccia - murmurou com afeto, balançando a cabeça. E então riu, se levantou da poltrona, disse obscuramente que na opinião dele, o amor só acabava quando era possível voltar a si mesmo sem temor ou desgosto, e saiu da sala arrastando o passo, como se quisesse assegurar-se da materialidade do pavimento.

Poi però si fermò, tornò indietro, mi disse: «Come stai bene, non ti avevo riconosciuta, sei diventata un’altra». Lì per lì fui contenta ma presto mi dispiacqui. Che vantaggio avrei potuto trarre dal diventare un’altra? Volevo restare io, vincolata a Lila, al cortile, alle bambole perdute, a don Achille, a tutto. Era l’unico modo per sentire intensamente ciò che mi stava accadendo. D’altra parte è difficile resistere alle modificazioni, in quel periodo mio malgrado cambiai più che negli anni di Pisa. A primavera uscì il libro, che molto più della laurea mi diede una nuova identità. Quando ne mostrai una copia a mia madre, a mio padre, ai miei fratelli, se lo passarono in silenzio, ma senza sfogliarlo. Fissavano la copertina con sorrisi incerti, mi sembrarono agenti di polizia di fronte a un documento falso. Mio padre disse: «È il mio cognome», ma parlò senza soddisfazione, come se all’improvviso, invece di essere fiero di me, avesse scoperto che gli avevo rubato soldi dalle tasche. Poi passarono i giorni, uscirono le prime recensioni. Le scorsi con ansia, ferita da ogni accenno anche lieve di critica. Lessi ad alta voce a tutta la famiglia le più benevole, mio padre si rischiarò. Elisa disse sfottente: «Ti dovevi firmare Lenuccia, Elena fa schifo». In quei giorni agitati mia madre comprò un album per le fotografie e cominciò ad attaccarci tutto ciò che di buono si scriveva su di me. Una mattina mi chiese: «Come si chiama il tuo fidanzato?». Lo sapeva, ma aveva qualcosa in mente e per comunicarmelo voleva partire da lì. «Pietro Airota». «Tu quindi ti chiamerai Airota». «Sì». «E se farai un altro libro, sulla copertina ci sarà scritto Airota?». «No». «Perché?». «Perché mi piace Elena Greco». «Anche a me».

Abro la puerta del patio. No llueve. Bien. Pero nada más salir, mi pie izquierdo pisa la mierda del perro. ¡Joder! ¡Vaya tela!

A century after Pisa, the monarchies that had used the arguments of Ockham and the conciliarists to beat the Catholic Church into submission would end up having the very same arguments used against them. A full-fledged theory of popular sovereignty broke surface for the first time in the sixteenth century in the writings of Almain and his colleague John Mair and then more explosively during the Reformation. It resurfaced again in the seventeenth century in authors like John Locke.

After much negotiation and debate, in March 1409 a general council met in Pisa to resolve the schism according to the new formula.

Quien pisa con suavidad va lejos”.

Thus, the spirit of objective inquiry in understanding physical realities was very much there in the works of Muslim scientists. The seminal work on Algebra comes from Al-Khwarizmī and Fibonacci (Leonardo of Pisa) has quoted him. Al-Khwarizmī, the pioneer of Algebra, wrote that given an equation, collecting the unknowns on one side of the equation is called 'al-Jabr'. The word Algebra comes from that. He developed sine, cosine and trigonometric tables, which were later translated in the West. He developed algorithms, which are the building blocks of modern computers. In mathematics, several Muslim scientists like Al-Battani, Al-Beruni and Abul-Wafa contributed to trigonometry. Furthermore, Omar Khayyam worked on Binomial Theorem. He found geometric solutions to all 13 forms of cubic equations.

In truth, it is a quarrel they are going to settle. But it is one that for the past hundreds of years has mortally separated Algiers and Oran. Back in history, these two North African cities would have already bled each other white as Pisa and Florence did in happier times. Their rivalry is all the stronger just because it probably has no basis. Having every reason to like each other, they loathe each other proportionally.

Qué es una persona sensible? —preguntó el petardo a la candela romana.        —Una persona que porque tiene callos pisa siempre los pies a los demás -El famoso cohete

The tent in these basketball shorts closer resembles the Leaning Tower of Pisa than it does anything you could find at REI.

All too often these walls proved minor impediments. Court records in Tuscany describe how men secretly entered convents to satisfy what one document called their “libidinous desires.” Included among them was a man who in 1419 managed to live for five months in a Dominican convent in Pisa, and a priest who, two years later, entered a convent of Poor Clares thirty miles west of Florence “and stayed many days, knowing carnally day and night one of the recluses who wore the nun’s habit.”17 The most notorious convent in Florentine territories was undoubtedly Santa Margherita in Prato, scene in the 1450s of the love affair between an Augustinian novice and a Carmelite friar: Sister Lucrezia Buti and the amorous painter Fra Filippo Lippi (the painter Filippino Lippi would be the result of the liaison).

There's no messing with perfection. (Okay, a little messing, just for fun.) A few crystals of coarse sea salt, a drizzle of local olive oil, and a sprig or two of purple basil. Sliced and layered in a white ceramic dish, the tomatoes often match the hues of the local sunsets--- reds and golds, yellows and pinks. If there were such a thing in our house as "too pretty to eat," this would be it. Thankfully, there's not. If I'm not exactly cooking, I have done some impromptu matchmaking: baby tomatoes with smoked mozzarella, red onions, fennel, and balsamic vinegar. A giant yellow tomato with a local sheep's milk cheese and green basil. Last night I got a little fancy and layered slices of beefsteak tomato with pale green artichoke puree and slivers of Parmesan. I constructed the whole thing to look like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I love to think of the utterly pretentious name this would be given in a trendy Parisian bistro: Millefeuille de tomate provençale, tapenade d'artichaut et coppa de parmesan d'Italie (AOC) sur son lit de salade, sauce aigre douce aux abricots. And of course, since this is a snooty Parisian bistro and half their clientele are Russian businessmen, the English translation would be printed just below: Tomato napoleon of artichoke tapenade and aged Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese on a bed of mixed greens with sweet-and-sour apricot vinaigrette. The sauce abricot was a happy accident. While making the dressing for the green salad, I mistook a bottle of peach/apricot syrup for the olive oil. Since I didn't realize my mistake until it was at the bottom of the bowl, I decided to try my luck. Mixed with Dijon mustard and some olive oil, it was very nice--- much sweeter than a French vinaigrette, more like an American-style honey Dijon. I decided to add it to my pretentious Parisian bistro dish because, believe it or not, Parisian bistros love imitating American food. Anyone who has been in Paris in the past five years will note the rise of le Tchizzberger. (That's bistro for "cheeseburger.") I'm moderate in my use of social media, but I can't stop taking pictures of the tomatoes. Close up, I've taken to snapping endless photos of the voluptuously rounded globes. I rejoice in the mingling of olive oil and purply-red flesh. Basil leaves rest like the strategically placed tassels of high-end strippers. Crystals of sea salt catch the afternoon sun like rhinestones under the glaring lights of the Folies Bergère. I may have invented a whole new type of food photography: tomato porn.

Negar el cambio es negar el suelo que pisas. Tu piso se mueve aunque te resistas a aceptarlo.

In the twelfth century, Hugh of Pisa wrote this in his etymological work Magnae derivationes: Many of the demons expelled from heaven live in the sea, the rivers, the springs, or the forests; the ignorant call them almost gods and offer them sacrifices. In the sea they are called Neptune, Lamia in the rivers, Nymphs in the fountains, and Diana in the forests.7

Dios nos pisa a todos. Al cielo iremos.

Na vida, para mim, não há deleite. Ando a chorar convulsa noite e dia ... E não tenho uma sombra fugidia Onde poise a cabeça, onde me deite! E nem flor de lilás tenho que enfeite A minha atroz, imensa nostalgia! ... A minha pobre Mãe tão branca e fria Deu-me a beber a Mágoa no seu leite! Poeta, eu sou um cardo desprezado, A urze que se pisa sob os pés. Sou, como tu, um riso desgraçado! Mas a minha tortura inda é maior: Não ser poeta assim como tu és Para gritar num verso a minha Dor! ..

Danny left the store, confident that he may have found a way to tilt this day a little more straighter standing, into something that didn’t so much resemble Pisa’s monument. Tracks of fate had begun to run a little too perpendicular with him today, rather than the parallel direction they usually run. He was realizing that parallel wasn’t so bad, no, in fact, he kind of missed it. Mostly, though, he just wanted some coffee. With each step, he felt as though a stony weight lifted off his chest. It had been there all morning, that heaviness, like an invisible albatross, a cartoon cinder block holding him down. He hadn’t realized the true size of it until, all at once, it dropped away, disappearing into the day without even a sound. Just a breath. His chest expanded as he took in as much air as he could hold, feeling good. Decisions were always cathartic, no matter their size.

LA REINA Yo te he nombrado reina. Hay mas altas que tu mas altas. Hay mas puras que ti, mas puras. Hay mas bellas que tu, hay mas bellas. Pero tu eres la reina. Cuando vas por las calles nadie te reconoce. Nadie ve tu coronoa de cristal, nadie mira la alfombra de oro rojo que pisas cuando pasas, la alfombra que no existe. Y cuando asomas suenan todos los rios en mi cuerpo, sacuden el cielo las campanas, y un himno llena el mundo. Solo tu y yo, solo tu y yo, amor mio., los escuchamos.

La proverbial filosofía budista atribuye en innumerables pasajes la posesión del Nirvana al santo que aún pisa la tierra: 'El discípulo que ha desechado la lujuria y el deseo, rico en sabiduría, ha alcanzado aquí en la tierra la liberación de la muerte, el descanso, el Nirvana, el estado eterno. Aquel que ha escapado de los arduos laberintos sin senderos del Sansara, que ha cruzado y llegado a la otra orilla, ensimismado, sin tropiezos y sin dudas, que se ha liberado de lo terrenal y ha alcanzado el Nirvana, a él lo llamo verdadero brahmán'. Si el santo quiere incluso ahora poner fin a su estado de ser, puede hacerlo, pero la mayoría permanece firme hasta que la Naturaleza haya alcanzado su meta; de ellos pueden decirse esas palabras que se ponen en boca del más prominente de los discípulos de Buda: 'No anhelo la muerte; no anhelo la vida; espero hasta que llegue mi hora, como un siervo que espera su recompensa'".

discussion of romances figured too, for at some point either on the outwards or return journey an Arthurian romance in the possession of Edward caught the eye of Marco Polo’s secretary and ghostwriter, Rusticiano of Pisa, who borrowed it and used it as the basis for his French work The Romance of King Arthur. This, rather suitably, told the tale of Palamedes, a Saracen knight who joined the round table, as well as including the adventures of Banor le Brun, Tristan and Lancelot.11

Decoration is up to you—be as creative as you like. Presentation and taste will be judged equally, so if you give me a leaning tower of Pisa, you will be told to get the fuck out of my kitchen.

«Sabemos que no es patria el suelo que se pisa sino el que se labra».

Tímido, desnudo y salvaje se ocultaba el troglodita en la hendidura de la montaña, vagaba el nómada por campos y a su paso los asolaba. El cazador, con lanzas y flechas, batía amenazante los bosques… ¡Ay, del náufrago llevado por las olas hasta aquellas playas inhóspitas! Desde las alturas del Olimpo, desciende la madre Ceres en busca de Proserpina, raptada: la tierra que pisa es salvaje. Nada de cobijo, nada de ofrendas que saluden a la divinidad, y el culto ignora a los dioses, ningún templo los adora. Los frutos del campo, los dulces racimos, no adornan ningún banquete, solo humean los restos de las víctimas sobre los altares ensangrentados. Y dondequiera que abarque Ceres con su triste mirada encuentra a los hombres en dolorosa humillación.

We would never say to a man, "Be eccentric"; but if he cannot help being so, we would not have him be otherwise. The Leaning Tower of Pisa owes much of its fame to its leaning, and although it certainly is not a safe model for architects, we would by no means advise its demolition. Ten to one any builder who tried to erect another would create a huge ruin, and therefore it would not be a safe precedent; but there it is, and who wishes it was other than it is? Serve the Lord, brother, with your very best, and seek to do even better, and whatever your peculiarities, the grace of God will be glorified in you.

Madrigal: El amor es un lujo. Akiva: No. El amor es un elemento. Un elemento. Como el aire que se respira, o el suelo que se pisa

Yezd, in pre-Mahomedan times, was a great sanctuary of the Gueber worship, though now it is a seat of fanatical Mahomedanism. It is, however, one of the few places where the old religion lingers. In 1859 there were reckoned 850 families of Guebers in Yezd

Yezd is still a place of important trade, and carries on a thriving commerce with India by Bandar Abbási. A visitor in the end of 1865 says: "The external trade appears to be very considerable, and the merchants of Yezd are reputed to be amongst the most enterprising and respectable of their class in Persia. Some of their agents have lately gone, not only to Bombay, but to the Mauritius, Java, and China.

and in the preparation of those ingredients along with which it is fused to obtain that kind of soft Iron which is usually styled Indian Steel (HINDIAH).[3] They also have workshops wherein are forged the most famous sabres in the world…. It is impossible to find anything to surpass the edge that you get from Indian Steel (al-hadíd al-Hindí).

Indikou sidaérou], "On the Tempering of Indian Steel." Edrisi says on this subject: "The Hindus excel in the manufacture of iron,

Marco Polo’s father, Niccolò Polo, traded with the Persians who were known to the early Europeans. These early Persians came from the province of Fârs, sometimes known in Old Persian as Pârsâ, located in the southwestern region of Iran. As a people, they were united under the Achaemenid Dynasty in the 6th century BC, by Cyrus the Great. In 1260, Niccolò Polo and his brother Maffeo lived in Constantinople, now Istanbul, Turkey. After the Mongol conquest of Asia Minor, the Polo brothers liquidated their assets into tangible valuables such as gold and jewels and moved out of harm’s way. Having heard of advanced eastern civilizations the brothers traveled through much of Asia, and even met with the Kublai Khan, the grandson of Genghis Khan, who later became emperor of China and established the Yuan Dynasty. Not being the first to travel east of Iran, they had heard numerous stories regarding the riches to be discovered in the Far East. Twenty-four years later in 1295, after traveling almost 15,000 miles, they returned to Venice with many riches and treasures. The Polo brothers had experienced a quarter century of adventures on their way to Asia that were later transcribed into The Book of Marco Polo by a writer named Rustichello, who came from Pisa in Tuscany, Italy. This was the beginning of a quest that motivated explorers, including Christopher Columbus, from that time on.

She’d been on the verge of flying out to see me--she’d practically booked a ticket to Pisa for the first flight out this morning--but then she’d thought, No, Violet wouldn’t want me to make a fuss--I give a particularly enthusiastic murmur of agreement at that bit--but she’s been on tenterhooks, and so relieved the doctor’s saying I’m okay, but I must make sure to rest up…unless I want her to come and get me and take me home to recover? There’s a flight this evening; she could easily make that. She’d just throw some clothes in a bag… That’s the only part where I need to stir myself and reassure her that no, I’m fine, I really am, that whatever I ate is long gone now, that I’ll be back to my studies here tomorrow, and please, Mum, please don’t make too much of a fuss. It takes a long time to keep repeating that so she can hear it and take it in. But after thirty minutes of pleading with her not to come over, let alone take me back home, she runs down like a toy with its batteries slowly going dead.

The Smartest Kids in the World: And How They Got That Way, Amanda Ripley explains that around the world the kids whose parents engaged them in conversation about books, movies, and current events scored better on the reading portion of the international PISA test.

In 2000, a German researcher named Andreas Schleicher developed the Program for International Student Assessment test (PISA) to help nations determine whether their teenagers had the thinking skills necessary to succeed in the twenty-first century at college, in the workplace, and in life.4