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Neeraj Sharma Sep 2016
He neither attended any college, nor did he go to school
  He didn’t even know to read and write, I just labelled him as a fool...
But when I had a talk with him, he proved me wrong...
Behind stupid attire, he possessed knowledge
I can never extract, even if I study lifelong...

That day I learned an important thing,
     Harsh realities of life teach you much better,
Than what they teach you at school...
And if you think you can survive this world only with theoretical knowledge,
You are no genius but just an arrogant fool...  

At last I just want to thank that uneducated scholar,
For opening my eyes...
And guiding me on the path,
That leads to endless knowledge and ultimate truth of life...
In daily life, you often come across some people who change the way you look at things. Yes! I met such a person. He's not someone with higher education. Instead, he's a simple worker who struggles hard to feed his family. Still, he managed to impress me with his knowledge and wits. At last, i want to thank that uneducated scholar once again...
SøułSurvivør Jul 2016
"What price love?" The scholar asks
"Is it lust which breaks the bone?"
The rock he hefts leaves him bereft
Ossified as stone.

Here we have the question
As we lift the weighted pall
'Tis it better to have loved and fully lost
Than to never love at all?


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/2/2016
"Jude the Obscure" is a novel written in the late 19th century by Thomas Hardy. A tale of dreams (the protagonist, Jude, was a stonemason who had ambitions of being a scholar) Love vs. Lust (Jude marries a woman who claims to be pregnant. Is divorced, then finds his true love, Sue) and the price of both. Jude has an extremely difficult life. Due mainly to his poor decisions regarding his love life. In the end it destroyed him.

-
The scholar sits,
To ponder his cursive.
Words are intangible;
Yet, so intricately immersing.
The garden of old.
when we think about imagination,
We think about pieces of our childhood.
Leftover of the memories
They didn't wanted us to keep.
Ashes
Of our buried first consciousness,
Buried
Under a pile of society
Tossed by the shovel
Of humanity.
Shattered thougts.
Because they fear the ones
That know what's really worth it.
A child wouldn't choose a car
Or a smartphone
Before their friends.
They wouldn't.
Because our math tests became easier
When "I don't know" was a valid answer.
Now it is all about competition,
Now it is all about money,
And that's what makes someone
Rich.
And who's "powerful" will rule.
A kid is not afraid to fall
Because they'll stand up Again,
Maybe,
We have much to learn from them.
Insufficient Oct 2014
The old fable covers a doctrine ever new and sublime; that there is One Man, — present to all particular men only partially, or through one faculty; and that you must take the whole society to find the whole man. Man is not a farmer, or a professor, or an engineer, but he is all. Man is priest, and scholar, and statesman, and producer, and soldier. In the divided or social state, these functions are parcelled out to individuals, each of whom aims to do his stint of the joint work, whilst each other performs his. The fable implies, that the individual, to possess himself, must sometimes return from his own labor to embrace all the other laborers. But unfortunately, this original unit, this fountain of power, has been so distributed to multitudes, has been so minutely subdivided and peddled out, that it is spilled into drops, and cannot be gathered. The state of society is one in which the members have suffered amputation from the trunk, and strut about so many walking monsters, — a good finger, a neck, a stomach, an elbow, but never a man.

Man is thus metamorphosed into a thing, into many things. The planter, who is Man sent out into the field to gather food, is seldom cheered by any idea of the true dignity of his ministry. He sees his bushel and his cart, and nothing beyond, and sinks into the farmer, instead of Man on the farm. The tradesman scarcely ever gives an ideal worth to his work, but is ridden by the routine of his craft, and the soul is subject to dollars. The priest becomes a form; the attorney, a statute-book; the mechanic, a machine; the sailor, a rope of a ship.
Excerpt from an Oration delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society, at Cambridge, August 31, 1837 by Emerson

— The End —