Taken from scerotic_wings

[conuly]

A post from somebody else on the Detroit Public Schools Book Depository.

It's rotting, and rotten, and has been for a while.

And yes, the picture of the phoenix-book is cool, but... well... we've all heard about how burning books is akin to burning people (much more dramatically than that, but I do not intend to draw any comparisons to Nazis, that seems a little overboard), and I just keep thinking... kids could have used those books. I know, floor after floor of the expurgated pulpy mush that is textbooks could hardly be called inspiring to any form of action... but still. What sort of pithy quote sums up people who could allow this to happen?

Comments

[elenbarathi.livejournal.com]

"And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man, a clever servant,
insufferable master.
There is the trap that catches noblest spirits, that caught -- they say --
God, when he walked on earth."

~Shine, Perishing Republic (http://www.antiwar.com/orig/jeffers1.html) by Robinson Jeffers

[elenbarathi.livejournal.com]

"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity."

~The Second Coming (http://www.artofeurope.com/yeats/yea11.htm) by W.B. Yeats

[elenbarathi.livejournal.com]

"And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man, a clever servant,
insufferable master.
There is the trap that catches noblest spirits, that caught -- they say --
God, when he walked on earth."

~Shine, Perishing Republic (http://www.antiwar.com/orig/jeffers1.html) by Robinson Jeffers

[elenbarathi.livejournal.com]

"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity."

~The Second Coming (http://www.artofeurope.com/yeats/yea11.htm) by W.B. Yeats