Book: Scientists women

Yes, philosophy is much more beautiful,
Than I thought, time to give advice.
To endure uncomplaining sorrow and heaviness troubles.

I will say bluntly: after all, no small matter
Without the will girls be willing to join with her in marriage.
Time husband goes, he should be afraid
Consequences that could then give rise to shame.

In science he is now the shining light of the stars,
He knows who what when were
He clapped thirty years the eyes and ears,
He is ten thousand times sat nights
Latin and Greek trying to the brain to push
And submerging your mind in a studious haze
All the old stuff that only hold books;
It knowledge as its drunk at all hours and moments.

And each of these three accidents waiting
Once printed it and wedged in a jam, -
What will to look at him as a person,
What would he pen to decide the fate of a crown,
That the slightest noise around their new books
To them retirement should be flied at the same moment...

Yeah I ignorance since
See other scientists I focus.

Hidden knowledge merit without end.

Not the knowledge of fools breeds actually
But only ignorance.

In ignorance he used to find delight,
And calls it science only disappointment.

What message I have for you, if only you knew!
The danger in a dream we are terrible escaped.
Quite close to us shining swept;
It crumbled, sending our vortex thoroughly.
Face it with the ground on the line of the orbit,
The earth would be like a glass was broken in pieces.

I love holistically, and feeling so alive
Tells, that from his love I wanted everything.

In me, Madam, - I will tell you of the honor -
Body and soul coexist.
As the body of me to forget? Its tremendous power.

Shall net you the proximity is not sweet,
When we merge into the heart - not of the body?

We have not decided (reasons are many)
So the girl was growing, learning, and knew a lot.
In the habits of honesty to raise children,
Servants to manage, and their kitchen
And saving to reduce their costs -
Such a science it should last for years

All the books eternal the hell are we the devil?
Plutarch - well, at least the thick ruff for a nice press.
Long time you burn the whole belongings scientist
Science bequeathed professors of the Sorbonne.