Birthday-June 25

Happy Birthday!
June 25

Born on June 25

Antoni Gaudí
Spanish Architect
6-25-1852
Walther Nernst
Nobel Chemist
6-25-1864
George Orwell
British Writer
6-25-1903
Sidney Lumet
Film Director
6-25-1924
June Lockhart
Actress
6-25-1925
Willis Reed
Basketball Player
6-25-1942

Events on June 25

June 25, 1876:
Battle of Little Big Horn
by Charles Marion Russell (1903)
June 25, 1900:
Taoist monk Wang Yuanlu
discovers Dunhuang manuscripts

June 25, 1910:
Igor Stravinsky's
"Firebird Suite" premiered in Paris

June 25, 1947:
Diary of Anne Frank
published in Amsterdam
June 25, 1950:
Korean War Declared
as North Invades South Korea
June 25, 1978:
Gilbert Baker's Rainbow Flag
first flown in San Francisco

June 25 Postmarks on Postage Stamps

June 25, 1978:
U.S. 1735c Eagle A stamp Cover
Postmarked Freehold, New Jersey
Battle of Monmouth, NJ (6-28-1778)
June 25, 1941:
U.S. C25 Airmail 6¢ carmine
Washington D.C. cancellation
First Day of Issue Cover
June 25, 1912:
U.S. 332 Washington 2¢ carmine
Harry S Truman's letter to Bess Wallace
postmarked Kansas City, Missouri

June 25: Journal & Letter Writings on this Date

Goethe
(1749-1832) June 25, 1829 Letter to Thomas Carlyle from Weimar:
If only an echo could reach you and tell you every time we speak and think of you,
you would very often feel you had a friendly visitor; I hope he would be welcome to
sit at your cosy fireside while the snow hems you in among rocks & grassy slopes...
I know enough of your countryman {Robert] Burns to think highly of him; if he were
still alive he would be your neighbour now. Your mentioning him in your letter
is making me read his poems again and in particular the story of his life— most
distressing reading, however, like the story of so many highly talented men. We very
seldom find the poetic gift united with the gift for ordering one's life and maintaining
a certain position. His poems showed me an independent spirit, able to seize the
passing moment firmly and at the same time to see its cheerful side. I am afraid
I could only appreciate this in a few of his poems, for the Scottish dialect at once
confuses me and I have not time and opportunity to seek explanation of the details.

Eugène Delacroix
(1798-1863)
Algiers, June 25, 1832:
Landed about eleven o'clock. The waterfront. Street going uphill. Narrow streets that
run into each other. Called on the general. Called on the naval commander. Went to
the Kasbah. The entrance dark, the gate painted, fountain. The roofs in Turkish style
on the inside. The ceiling painted, often with boards, not with beams. The cypress trees above. In front of the dark passage-way where the Arabs are. The room of the Dey. Balcony. The rich people hang brocaded tapestries over the doors and windows, etc. At Oran. Coat of arms in the white walls.
Paris, June 25, 1847:
Today, probably at the hour of my dinner Grzimala came in. About my painting he
told me things that pleased me, among others: that the idea always struck him, rather than the convention of painting; moreover that all pictures have something ridiculous about them which comes from fashion, etc. He never finds that in mine. Can he really
be right? Could one infer from that that the less there is in pictures of the transitory
element which most often contributes to present-day success, the more they fulfill
the conditions of permanence and of greatness? Develop this.
— Journal, 6-25-1832, pp. 127-128; 6-25-1847, p. 169

Henry David Thoreau
(1817-1862) Walden, Massachusetts, June 25, 1840:
Let me see no other conflict but with prosprity. If my path run on before me level
and smooth, it is all a mirage; in reality it is steep and arduous as a chamois pass.
I will not let the years roll over me like a Juggernant car. We will warm us at each
other's fire. Friendship is not such a cold refining process as a double sieve, but a
glowing furnace in which all impurities are consumed. Men have learned to touch
before they scrutinize,— to shake hands, and not to stare.
— Journal (1840), pp. 152-153

Concord, Massachusetts, June 25, 1858:
Hotter than yesterday and, like it, muggy or close. So hazy can see no mountains.
In many spots in the road and by edge of rye-fields the reflected heat is almost suffocating. 93^o at 1 pm... We bathe at Bittern Cliff. The water is exceedingly warm near the surface, but refreshingly cold four or five feet beneath. There must be twenty degrees difference at least.' The ground under the white pines is now strewn with the effete flowers, like an excrement. I notice an apparent female bullfrog, with a lustrous greenish (not yellow) throat. — Journal (1858), pp. 507-509

Concord, Massachusetts, June 25, 1860:
I see a female marsh hawk, beating along a wall, suddenly give chase to a small bird,
dashing to right and left twenty feet high about a pine. There are no turtle-tracks now
on the desert, but I see many crow-tracks there, and where they have pecked or
scratched in the sand in many places, possibly smelling the eggs!? Also the track of
a fox over the sand... Hear four or five screech owls on different sides of the river,
uttering those peculiar low screwing or working, ventriloquial sounds. Probably young birds, some of them, lately taken flight. Farmers are just beginning their
June-grass haying. — Journal (1860), pp. 373-374

June 25: Birth Flower, Birthstone, Zodiac Sign

Birth Flower: Rose
Passion, romance, true love,
angelic energy & blessings

Birthstone: Pearl
Perfection, elegance, beauty,
integrity, tears of the gods

Zodiac Sign: Cancer
Adaptable, analytical, curious,
expressive, highly intelligent

Goethe (1749-1832)	June 25, 1829 Letter to Thomas Carlyle from Weimar: If only an echo could reach you and tell you every time we speak and think of you, you would very often feel you had a friendly visitor; I hope he would be welcome to sit at your cosy fireside while the snow hems you in among rocks & grassy slopes... I know enough of your countryman {Robert] Burns to think highly of him; if he were still alive he would be your neighbour now. Your mentioning him in your letter is making me read his poems again and in particular the story of his life— most distressing reading, however, like the story of so many highly talented men. We very seldom find the poetic gift united with the gift for ordering one's life and maintaining a certain position. His poems showed me an independent spirit, able to seize the passing moment firmly and at the same time to see its cheerful side. I am afraid I could only appreciate this in a few of his poems, for the Scottish dialect at once confuses me and I have not time and opportunity to seek explanation of the details.
Eugène Delacroix (1798-1863)	Algiers, June 25, 1832: Landed about eleven o'clock. The waterfront. Street going uphill. Narrow streets that run into each other. Called on the general. Called on the naval commander. Went to the Kasbah. The entrance dark, the gate painted, fountain. The roofs in Turkish style on the inside. The ceiling painted, often with boards, not with beams. The cypress trees above. In front of the dark passage-way where the Arabs are. The room of the Dey. Balcony. The rich people hang brocaded tapestries over the doors and windows, etc. At Oran. Coat of arms in the white walls. Paris, June 25, 1847: Today, probably at the hour of my dinner Grzimala came in. About my painting he told me things that pleased me, among others: that the idea always struck him, rather than the convention of painting; moreover that all pictures have something ridiculous about them which comes from fashion, etc. He never finds that in mine. Can he really be right? Could one infer from that that the less there is in pictures of the transitory element which most often contributes to present-day success, the more they fulfill the conditions of permanence and of greatness? Develop this. — Journal, 6-25-1832, pp. 127-128; 6-25-1847, p. 169
Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)	Walden, Massachusetts, June 25, 1840: Let me see no other conflict but with prosprity. If my path run on before me level and smooth, it is all a mirage; in reality it is steep and arduous as a chamois pass. I will not let the years roll over me like a Juggernant car. We will warm us at each other's fire. Friendship is not such a cold refining process as a double sieve, but a glowing furnace in which all impurities are consumed. Men have learned to touch before they scrutinize,— to shake hands, and not to stare. — Journal (1840), pp. 152-153 Concord, Massachusetts, June 25, 1858: Hotter than yesterday and, like it, muggy or close. So hazy can see no mountains. In many spots in the road and by edge of rye-fields the reflected heat is almost suffocating. 93^o at 1 pm... We bathe at Bittern Cliff. The water is exceedingly warm near the surface, but refreshingly cold four or five feet beneath. There must be twenty degrees difference at least.' The ground under the white pines is now strewn with the effete flowers, like an excrement. I notice an apparent female bullfrog, with a lustrous greenish (not yellow) throat. — Journal (1858), pp. 507-509 Concord, Massachusetts, June 25, 1860: I see a female marsh hawk, beating along a wall, suddenly give chase to a small bird, dashing to right and left twenty feet high about a pine. There are no turtle-tracks now on the desert, but I see many crow-tracks there, and where they have pecked or scratched in the sand in many places, possibly smelling the eggs!? Also the track of a fox over the sand... Hear four or five screech owls on different sides of the river, uttering those peculiar low screwing or working, ventriloquial sounds. Probably young birds, some of them, lately taken flight. Farmers are just beginning their June-grass haying. — Journal (1860), pp. 373-374