What a blind person needs is not a teacher but another self.
I find that fact and fancy look alike across the years that link the past with the present.
Don't give me the peace that passeth understanding, give me understanding.
When one door of hapiness closes, another opens.
When one reads hurriedly and nervously, having in mind written tests and examinations, one's brain becomes encumbered with a lot of bric-a-brac for which there seems to be little use.
I, who cannot see, find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch. I feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf. I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough shaggy bark of a pine.