Small, in class Feeling the wax sitting on the right near the window where I watched people pass through the streets and large chestnut trees swaying gently Sainte Anne, Sister Solange I looked terrified in its holding of Oblate black and white tell me, severe but just and right and good, a small iron crucifix dangling above my eye was: "Learn your lessons well my child and you become doctor, scientist, you'll help others, only by working the best we can that one becomes a man. The rigor and excellence, my child, keep that in mind ... well. " Then came the thankless years at St. Mary College, the large bay in my class gave this austere and dark park or even the desire of doing stupid things teenagers dissipated under the annoyance post-pubescent. It grew poorly, the overly large, lanky body, moods moody sometimes drowned spleen, I was smoking a cigarette behind the Tower of England, or the Father P. strove to plant flowers that so desperate were turning gray rods invariably either in life ... then ran slow, fat error from heart to misfire sentimental but I listened while the Father V. tell us in the great amphitheater (which we called, for some reason, the "cinema"): "Be adults, my son, work, grow, learn, and become men who will help other people, at the cost of excellence, work and intelligence that you decide your life. " Then came the University, student freedom, my first car, clubbing, the first true bliss, time spinning whitewater, girls hidden smile, friends forever, the policy a bit and Sciences Pipo heard Professor FCM tell me in his office: "Your memory is not that good, Caligula is a mediocre work. Do not satifaites of mediocrity, work, go to work, always in Excellence and rigor tirelessly and you bring your stone al'edifice. Then came the training, the languor of Geneva, the U.S. time, the Great School, my friends forever, the fishermen of the moon, the lake, life anywhere, any time, without stopping, and I heard the director BR, we say: "Pass you undertake all, try everything, dare, in the excellence and rigor." I tried.
Frankly I tried. And this morning a little tired this week, after yet another email from these jerks who cling to me like a pile of frifri morpiacée at the office, I read this, one of the "best of us, "one those who govern, one of those "help other men" and as I had wanted to call Sister Solange and asked if she was sure sure what she had said there are 20 years
http://www.liberation.fr/societe/0101608754-pour-lefebvre-les-exiles-afghans-feraient-mieux-d-aller-faire-la-guerre-chez-eux
0 comments:
Post a Comment