in this country some fifty years ago and have lived all my life with these beauties, never leaving them for more than a few weeks at a time. They are all my mothers and I am their adopted, affectionate
after, the children, and they in their turn keep an eye on their toys so that nobody takes them away from them. Poor children. Poor people. So they have, as an encouragement, as a way of building trust
Manx people have a spirit of independence which goes back over 1000 years, a treasured gift given to them by the Vikings. The Island has the longest continual Parliament in the world." De båda texterna i
áleggur ílegunum eginleikar, sum Lewontin rópar ?a mysterious, autonomous power, that seems to place them above the more ordinary materials of the body? (eina dulda, sjálvstýrandi kraft, sum setur tær omanfyri
Róin, Hera Mørkøre, Hanusi Hansen, Meinhardi Jacobsen, Jørn Astrup Hansen, Bergi í Garði? You name them. Og hvar bleiv prospekt-politikkurin av. Onki skuldi kunna seljast fyrrenn eitt sokallað prospekt
people and waved their hands. A tall man in white clothes and having a beard suddenly stood among them. The man walked hand in hand with Mary towards the church building. In clear Swahili without any trace
about you Klæmint Is the love and loyalty you showed your friends The unquestioning faith you had in them The ready listening ear, the comforting hand on the shoulder The willingness to listen to another
of collaborative decision-making, which involves students in its early stages, rather than leaving them to react after decisions are made. ... The MIT model of shared governance puts us far ahead of the
Titanic: And Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot Fighting in the captain´s tower While calypso singers laugh at them And fishermen hold flowers Between the windows of the sea Where lovely mermaids flow And nobody has
eltir ein skugga: I see, I see lovers in the meadow I see, I see silhouettes in the window I watch them ´til they´re gone and they leave me hanging on To a shadow Skýli móti ódnini Tann Dylan, vit her [...] smoke and your prayers like rhymes And your silver cross, and your voice like chimes Oh, who among them do you think could bury you? Týrusar hugmóð Til hennara koma kongarnir í Týrus, teir bíða í einum
