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joan baez is my spirit mom

__ fschr

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joan baez is my spirit mom
  • Lake Baikal
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switch t := event.(type) {
case sdl.QuitEvent:
utils.Running = false
//default:
// fmt.Printf("%v\n", t)
}
// If you uncomment the commented lines, this code will run
// otherwise, it will not compile
"The Leaving Of Liverpool"
Farewell to you, my own true love,
I am going far, far away
I am bound for California,
And I know that I'll return someday
So fare thee well, my own true love,
For when I return, united we will be
It's not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me,
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
I remember to this day
The bright red Georgia clay
And how it stuck to the tires
After the summer rain
Will power made that old car go
A woman's mind told me that so
Oh how I wish
We were back on the road again
Me and you and a dog named boo
@fschr
fschr / Fair Play
Last active January 24, 2016 07:47
"Vengeance on a dumb brute!" cried Starbuck, "that simply smote thee
from blindest instinct! Madness! To be enraged with a dumb thing,
Captain Ahab, seems blasphemous."
"Hark ye yet again – the little lower layer. All visible objects, man,
are but as pasteboard masks. But in each event – in the living act,
the undoubted deed – there, some unknown but still reasoning thing
puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning
mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner
reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white
@fschr
fschr / yarblockos
Last active January 23, 2016 20:14
yarblockos
[Alex has just struck Dim on the legs]
Dim: What did you do that for?
Alex: For being a bastard with no manners,
and not a dook of an idea how to comport
yourself public-wise, O my brother.
Dim: I don't like you should do what you done,
and I'm not your brother no more
It's knowing that your door is always open
And your path is free to walk
That makes me tend to leave my sleeping bag
Rolled up and stashed behind your couch
And it's knowing I'm not shackled
By forgotten words and bonds
And the ink stains that are dried upon some line
That keeps you in the backroads
By the rivers of my memory
“If only, if only," the woodpecker sighs,
"The bark on the tree was as soft as the skies."
While the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely,
Crying to the moo-oo-oon,
"If only, If only.”
Louis Sachar
class Wrapper:
memo = dict()
@staticmethod
def countOnes(n):
if n == 0:
return 0
if n == 1:
Wrapper.memo[1] = 1
return 1