Quote by Charles Kettering

Every time you tear a leaf off a calendar, you present a new place for new ideas and progress.


Every time you tear a leaf off a calendar, you present a new

Summary

This quote suggests that by tearing off a leaf from a calendar, symbolizing the passing of time, we create space for fresh ideas and advancements. It highlights the importance of embracing change and continuously seeking improvement. Just as removing a leaf reveals a new page on the calendar, inviting new possibilities, the act of letting go of the past fosters the opportunity for growth and innovation in our lives. It encourages us to let go of old ways of thinking and approach each day with an open mind, ready to embrace new challenges and ideas.

By Charles Kettering
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As she came up to the arch Elizabeth saw with a start that it was written on. She went closer. She peered at the stone. There were names on it. Every grain of the surface had been carved with British names; their chiselled capitals rose from the level of her ankles to the height of the great arch itself; on every surface of every column as far as her eyes eyes could see there were names teeming, reeling, over surfaces of yards, of hundreds of yards, over furlongs of stone.She moved through the space beneath the arch where the man was sweeping. She found the other pillas identically marked, their faces obliterated on all sides by the names that were carved on them.'Who are these, these ...?; She gestured with her hand.''These?' The man with the brush sounded surprised. 'The lost.''Men who died in battle?''No. The lost, the ones they did not find. The others are in cemetries.''These are just the ... unfound?'She looked at the vault above her head and then around in panic at the endless writing, as though the surface of the sky had been papered in footnotes.When she could speak again, she said, 'from the whole war?'The man shook his head. 'Just these fields.' He gestured with his arm.Elizabeth went and sat on the steps on the other side of the monument. Beneath her was a formal garden with some rows of white headstones, each with a tended plant or flower at its base, each cleaned and beautiful in the weak winter sunlight.'Nobody told me.' She ran her fingers with their red-painted nails back through her thick dark hair. 'My God, nobody told me.

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