exams [Theme]

From the second year I was told: “Our Pashennaya.” I received a personal scholarship from Khmelev. She played leading roles in graduation performances. But when the distribution was made, there was no place in Maly. “I responded to the invitation of the artistic director of the Theater on Malaya Bronnaya, Andrei Goncharov.”

Maybe we don't need to give up our differences, the unique qualities that separate us. Maybe there's something powerful about standing knee-deep in the unity of things that make us not so far apart, things that make us nod our heads and whisper, "Me too..."

The dark essence of Light Magic.

“Well, in that case, you are very good at hiding your knowledge.

- And you will tell me about caution? We have arrived already!

- I handed over, but failed.

Ever since Lady Romanadvoratrelundar arrived, the Doctor had become obsessive about the dusty corners of the TARDIS — and he found it completely dishonest. The point is not at all that he is somehow sloppy - there are simply more important things in life. On one occasion, he even summoned a cleaning lady who disappeared somewhere inside the TARDIS along with a bucket and a rag, and was never seen again. The doctor even began to worry about her fate at times - after all, she was paid on an hourly basis.

Any student in the oral examination acts as a speaker. And if this student is not silent, then with a high probability he will pass the exam. If a student says that he does not know how to answer the questions posed, he will fail.

- At the oral exam, one must not remain silent, and at the written one - take empty sheets. Speak and write at least something and say or write three points.

- It depends only on the person himself. What have the gods to do with it? If you study well, you will pass the exams, if you work hard, you will become rich.

Test pilots are often referred to as aircraft examiners. This is honorable and generally correct. But we must not forget that if a test pilot examines an airplane, then the airplane also examines a test pilot every time, in every flight. And he does it with all the severity. The cut off person will often never be able to try to correct the mark.

- Joe, this is the hottest level, because the heat rises up. You would know this if you were preparing for exams.

After all, all human life, in fact, is a slow dying. It is not even we who are dying - the world around us gradually fades. In the first years of our life, and it is in its prime. (Isn't that why childhood memories are so vivid?) We are surrounded by close creatures - father, mother, grandmothers, grandfathers, friends from kindergarten and school come for them, first love blossoms. These are the cornerstones on which the small universe of each of us is based. In childhood and adolescence, it is completely real and tangible, while all people dear to us are with us among the living. With each of them we are connected by myriads of the finest threads: common thoughts, shared vacations, light, dizzy novels, an outstretched hand. Weaving together memories and experiences, these people weave the silk yarn of our reality, our world, our life.
But the years go by, and they - one by one - leave us, turn into ethereal ghosts and find their last refuge in our memories. Trying to make our native voice sound even for a fraction of a second in our head, trying to return from oblivion the charm of their smile, we can spend hours in vain looking at their photographs. The pain of losing a loved one cannot be overcome; only time dulls it.
And with each new death, our Universe is shifting more and more into another dimension - into the plane of our fantasies, the plane of our memory. It goes into the past, we live less and less for today, and more and more immerse ourselves in yesterday, which is indistinctly and vaguely imprinted in our consciousness.
The first to leave are grandmothers and grandfathers, the dog that was with us while we were growing up dies, and our childhood dies with them. Their death is a milestone: after it, the so-called maturity begins.
Then it is the turn of the parents; when they leave us, it will mean that adulthood is over, and we froze on the threshold of old age. And then one of the long-gray school friends or the toothless, but with the same enthusiasm of the university comrades who were smiling at us, dies; finally, a husband or wife.
This is the last sign: it's time for us to prepare too. Because our whole world, like a dying huge ocean liner, is plunging into the abyss of the past. Dark waters will drop by drop fill the cabins of memories, inhabited by the images of colleagues, army colleagues, phantoms of fathers and brothers, mothers and sisters ... They will rush into luxurious banquet halls, where we celebrated our little triumphs: successfully passed school exams, hard-won admission to the university, love victories, weddings and births of children, expected job promotions for years. The holds, where the black hours of our life are dumped, will also be flooded: we would like to batten them down tightly, but memory gapes with cracks, the edges of which will never converge.
[…]
... When the waves of oblivion reach the captain's bridge and lick our feet, it will only be necessary to salute with dignity for the last time and silently close our eyes. And then we, in turn, will become the borderline that will mark the end of childhood for our grandchildren and the beginning of old age for our children.

I think I fell in love. It's no good, but I Googled and learned that falling in love can't last more than three years, so by ninth grade I should have recovered. This is good, because there are important exams.