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Sometimes when there is too much on my plate, and the pressure to keep everything just right is too daunting, I recall my father’s words, borrowed from the poet, Pedro Calderon de la Barca:

“…a sage, who roamed dejected,
Poor, and wretched, it is said,
That one day, his wants being fed
By the herbs which he collected,
“Is there one” (he thus reflected)
“Poorer than I am to-day?”
Turning round him to survey,
He his answer got, detecting
A still poorer sage collecting
Even the leaves he threw away.”

For those who understand Spanish, the original version can be read here in its loveliest form.

 

October 27, 2010

 

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