OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Proclamation 5916

Delivered on 28 November 1988.
By the President of the United States of America A Proclamation
In order to amend paragraph A of Proclamation 5908 of November 18, 1988, "To Amend the Quantitative Limitations on Imports of Certain Cheeses," I, Ronald Reagan, President of the United States of America, acting under the authority vested in me by the Constitution and statutes of the United States of America, including Section 701 of the Trade Agreements Act of 1979, Section 604 of the Trade Act of 1974, and Section 1204(b) of the Omnibus Trade and Competitiveness Act of 1988, do hereby proclaim that:
In paragraph A of Proclamation 5908, the tabular material which reads: "Uruguay .... 943,569 482,000" is deleted, and the tabular material "Uruguay .... 943,569 428,000" is inserted in lieu thereof.
This Proclamation shall be effective November 18, 1988. In Witness Whereof, I have hereunto set my hand this twenty-eighth day of November, in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and eighty-eight, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and thirteenth.
RONALD REAGAN
[Filed with the Office of the Federal Register, 11:53 a.m., November 28, 1988]
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Proclamation 5920

Delivered on 5 December 1988.
By the President of the United States of America A Proclamation
Reading is one of the most important activities any child can engage in, and potentially one of the most enjoyable too. For all of us, and especially for youngsters, reading is a key to past, present, and future-a path into virtually limitless treasures of knowledge and inspiration. Reading encourages wonder about the world, broadens awareness of others, and offers clues about the meaning of life. It helps transmit our cultural legacy and fosters inner resources of spirit, intellect, and imagination. Children and young adults need and deserve the gift, joy, and promise of reading, and a year of special national observance in recognition of this truth is most appropriate.
Nurturing a love of reading in children is crucial for their personal growth and wellbeing and for the continued health and vigor of our communities and country. Now as always, America needs a literate and knowledgeable citizenry fully conversant with and determined to defend our heritage of liberty and learning.
We can all help young readers discover the blessings and the enjoyment that reading offers. Parents can read aloud to their children. Families and schools can make reading materials a familiar part of youngsters' surroundings and can suggest regular visits to libraries. Educators and concerned citizens can redouble their efforts to ensure that students remain in school and that literacy programs for people of all ages are available in their areas. Each of us can give young people the good example of reading ourselves. We can explain the freedom we Americans enjoy to read and write and study as we like. If we do all of these things, we will go a long way toward awakening among every young reader the understanding that reading is a thrilling, lifetime journey into new worlds of adventure, history, heritage, and far frontiers. That will be an inestimable service to our Nation.
The Congress, by Public Law 100-662, has designated 1989 as "Year of the Young Reader" and authorized and requested the President to issue a proclamation in observance of this year.
Now, Therefore, I, Ronald Reagan, President of the United States of America, do hereby proclaim 1989 as Year of the Young Reader. I call upon parents and educators, librarians and publishers, interested private organizations and businesses, government officials, and all Americans to observe this year with appropriate programs, ceremonies, and activities.
In Witness Whereof, I have hereunto set my hand this fifth day of December, in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and eighty-eight, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and thirteenth.
RONALD REAGAN
[Filed with the Office of the Federal Register, 10:37 a. m., December 6, 1988]
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Proclamation 5913

Delivered on 19 November 1988.
By the President of the United States of America A Proclamation
Home care enhances life for people of all ages who are ill or disabled. The home should be the setting of first choice for care and treatment, because it is conducive to healing; in the home, family members can supply caring and love. The combination of professional services with such situations can add to the effectiveness of home health care. National Home Care Week, 1988, reminds us of the good that results when families and home care providers put into practice the respect we all owe to everyone in need of such care.
In recent years, home care programs have grown in number and in importance in health care delivery. We should all be grateful that these programs enable millions of Americans to receive fine care at home. The employees and volunteers of home care agencies, private and public alike, need our cooperation and attention as they work with family members across our land to offer the excellent care patients at home require and deserve.
The Congress, by Public Law 100-600, has designated the period of November 27 through December 3, 1988, as "National Home Care Week" and authorized and requested the President to issue a proclamation in observance of this week.
Now, Therefore, I, Ronald Reagan, President of the United States of America, do hereby proclaim the period of November 27 through December 3, 1988, as National Home Care Week, and I call upon government officials, interested organizations and associations, and all Americans to observe this week with appropriate programs, ceremonies, and activities.
In Witness Whereof, I have hereunto set my hand this nineteenth day of November, in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and eighty-eight, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and thirteenth.
RONALD REAGAN
[Filed with the Office of the Federal Register, 1:21 p.m., November 21, 1988]
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Proclamation 5915

Delivered on 23 November 1988.
By the President of the United States of America A Proclamation
Over the years, our Nation has benefited greatly from persons who have developed their vocational and technical skills and used those skills in helping to build strong and vibrant communities. Today, America's industries and businesses are facing new challenges in a more competitive international environment, and to continue to prosper they must achieve a higher level of innovation and productivity than ever before. To assist in meeting this challenge, young people must have a firm foundation in the basic skills that will enable them to fill jobs that require advanced vocational and technical training.
Various studies have projected that the future job market will consist more and more of such technically intensive occupations. If our economy is to have a sufficient crop of candidates for these occupations, it must be able to rely upon a large and growing pool of trained vocational educators. Fortunately, there are dozens of State and national groups committed to quality education in vocational specialties, and these groups are attuned to economic trends and supportive of professional educators in the technical-vocational fields. General public awareness is important, too. During Vocational-Technical Education Week, all Americans can pause to consider the need for strong vocational education programs that enjoy the full support of our communities.
The Congress, by House Joint Resolution 572, has designated the period of November 28 through December 2, 1988, as "Vocational-Technical Education Week" and authorized and requested the President to issue a proclamation in observance of this event.
Now, Therefore, I, Ronald Reagan, President of the United States of America, do hereby proclaim the period of November 28 through December 2, 1988, as Vocational-Technical Education Week, and I call upon the people of the United States to observe this event with appropriate programs, ceremonies, and activities.
In Witness Whereof, I have hereunto set my hand this twenty-third day of November, in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and eighty-eight, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and thirteenth.
RONALD REAGAN
[Filed with the Office of the Federal Register, 11:52 a.m., November 28, 1988]
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Proclamation 5919

Delivered on 5 December 1988.
By the President of the United States of America A Proclamation
Eighty-five years ago, above the sound of North Carolina's pounding surf, above the chattering of the sea gulls and terns, came the sound of progress; for over the sandy dunes of Kitty Hawk flew the first self-propelled, winged aero-vehicle. Hardly an imposing sight, it barely rose above the shore; and, in size, it bore little resemblance to the jumbo jets that would follow. In power, velocity, and payload, it was also but a hint of what was to come. But that aircraft, aloft for only a few moments, held promise far beyond its modest dimensions and capabilities. Eventually that promise became reality, yielding change that helped shrink the globe and bring the peoples of the world closer together. Rarely has mankind beheld an event foreshadowing such remarkable improvement for the benefit of us all. Today, we commemorate an idea that grew in the hearts and minds of the Wright Brothers, Orville and Wilbur, until it culminated in the famous flight that blazed a path into the future for America and the world.
The Congress, by a joint resolution approved December 17, 1963 (77 Stat. 402; 36 U.S.C. 169), has designated the seventeenth day of December of each year as "Wright Brothers Day" and requested the President to issue annually a proclamation inviting the people of the United States to observe that day with appropriate ceremonies and activities.
Now, Therefore, I, Ronald Reagan, President of the United States of America, do hereby proclaim December 17, 1988, as Wright Brothers Day, and I call upon the people of the United States to observe this day with appropriate ceremonies and activities, both to recall the achievements of the Wright Brothers and to stimulate aviation in this country and throughout the world.
In Witness Whereof, I have hereunto set my hand this fifth day of December, in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and eighty-eight, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and thirteenth.
RONALD REAGAN
[Filed with the Office of the Federal Register, 10:36 a.m., December 6, 1988]
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Rhymes of a Rolling Stone/The Man Who Knew

The Man Who Knew
The Dreamer visioned Life as it might be, And from his dream forthright a picture grew, A painting all the people thronged to see, And joyed therein — till came the Man Who Knew, Saying: “’Tis bad! Why do ye gape, ye fools! He painteth not according to the schools.”
The Dreamer probed Life’s mystery of woe, And in a book he sought to give the clue; The people read, and saw that it was so, And read again — then came the Man Who Knew, Saying: “Ye witless ones! this book is vile: It hath not got the rudiments of style.”
Love smote the Dreamer’s lips, and silver clear He sang a song so sweet, so tender true, That all the market-place was thrilled to hear, And listened rapt — till came the Man Who Knew, Saying: “His technique’s wrong; he singeth ill. Waste not your time.” The singer’s voice was still.
And then the people roused as if from sleep, Crying: “What care we if it be not Art! Hath he not charmed us, made us laugh and weep? Come, let us crown him where he sits apart.” Then, with his picture spurned, his book unread, His song unsung, they found their Dreamer — dead.
# Rhymes of a Rolling Stone/The Rover

The Rover
I
Oh, how good it is to be Foot-loose and heart-free! Just my dog and pipe and I, underneath the vast sky; Trail to try and goal to win, white road and cool inn; Fields to lure a lad afar, clear spring and still star; Lilting feet that never tire, green dingle, fagot fire; None to hurry, none to hold, heather hill and hushed fold; Nature like a picture book, laughing leaf and bright brook; Every day a jewel bright, set serenely in the night; Every night a holy shrine, radiant for a day divine.
Weathered cheek and kindly eye, let the wanderer go by. Woman-love and wistful heart, let the gipsy one depart. For the farness and the road are his glory and his goad. Oh, the lilt of youth and Spring! Eyes laugh and lips sing.
Yea, but it is good to be  Foot-loose and heart-free!
II
Yet how good it is to come Home at last, home, home! On the clover swings the bee, overhead’s the hale tree; Sky of turquoise gleams through, yonder glints the lake’s blue. In a hammock let’s swing, weary of wandering; Tired of wild, uncertain lands, strange faces, faint hands. Has the wondrous world gone cold? Am I growing old, old? Grey and weary... let me dream, glide on the tranquil stream. Oh, what joyous days I’ve had, full, fervid, gay, glad! Yet there comes a subtile change, let the stripling rove, range. From sweet roving comes sweet rest, after all, home’s best. And if there’s a little bit of woman-love with it, I will count my life content, God-blest and well spent....
Oh but it is good to be  Foot-loose and heart-free!  Yet how good it is to come  Home at last, home, home!
# Rhymes of a Rolling Stone/The Lost Master

The Lost Master
“And when I come to die,” he said, “Ye shall not lay me out in state, Nor leave your laurels at my head, Nor cause your men of speech orate; No monument your gift shall be, No column in the Hall of Fame; But just this line ye grave for me:  ‘He played the game.’ ”
So when his glorious task was done, It was not of his fame we thought; It was not of his battles won, But of the pride with which he fought; But of his zest, his ringing laugh, His trenchant scorn of praise or blame: And so we graved his epitaph,  “He played the game.”
And so we, too, in humbler ways Went forth to fight the fight anew, And heeding neither blame nor praise, We held the course he set us true. And we, too, find the fighting sweet; And we, too, fight for fighting’s sake; And though we go down in defeat, And though our stormy hearts may break, We will not do our Master shame: We’ll play the game, please God,  We’ll play the game.
# Rhymes of a Rolling Stone/The Mountain and the Lake

The Mountain and the Lake
I know a mountain thrilling to the stars, Peerless and pure, and pinnacled with snow; Glimpsing the golden dawn o’er coral bars, Flaunting the vanisht sunset’s garnet glow; Proudly patrician, passionless, serene; Soaring in silvered steeps where cloud-surfs break; Virgin and vestal — Oh, a very Queen! And at her feet there dreams a quiet lake.
My lake adores my mountain — well I know, For I have watched it from its dawn-dream start, Stilling its mirror to her splendid snow, Framing her image in its trembling heart; Glassing her graciousness of greening wood, Kissing her throne, melodiously mad, Thrilling responsive to her every mood, Gloomed with her sadness, gay when she is glad.
My lake has dreamed and loved since time was born; Will love and dream till time shall cease to be; Gazing to Her in worship half forlorn, Who looks towards the stars and will not see — My peerless mountain, splendid in her scorn.... Alas! poor little lake! Alas! poor me!
# Rhymes of a Rolling Stone/The Passing of the Year

The Passing of the Year
My glass is filled, my pipe is lit,  My den is all a cosy glow; And snug before the fire I sit,  And wait to feel the old year go. I dedicate to solemn thought  Amid my too-unthinking days, This sober moment, sadly fraught  With much of blame, with little praise.
Old Year! upon the Stage of Time  You stand to bow your last adieu; A moment, and the prompter’s chime  Will ring the curtain down on you. Your mien is sad, your step is slow;  You falter as a Sage in pain; Yet turn, Old Year, before you go,  And face your audience again.
That sphinx-like face, remote, austere,  Let us all read, whate’er the cost: O Maiden! why that bitter tear?  Is it for dear one you have lost? Is it for fond illusion gone?  For trusted lover proved untrue? O sweet girl-face, so sad, so wan  What hath the Old Year meant to you?
And you, O neighbour on my right  So sleek, so prosperously clad! What see you in that aged wight  That makes your smile so gay and glad? What opportunity unmissed?  What golden gain, what pride of place? What splendid hope? O Optimist!  What read you in that withered face?
And You, deep shrinking in the gloom,  What find you in that filmy gaze? What menace of a tragic doom?  What dark, condemning yesterdays? What urge to crime, what evil done?  What cold, confronting shape of fear? O haggard, haunted, hidden One  What see you in the dying year?
And so from face to face I flit,  The countless eyes that stare and stare; Some are with approbation lit,  And some are shadowed with despair. Some show a smile and some a frown;  Some joy and hope, some pain and woe: Enough! Oh, ring the curtain down!  Old weary year! it’s time to go.
My pipe is out, my glass is dry;  My fire is almost ashes too; But once again, before you go,  And I prepare to meet the New: Old Year! a parting word that’s true,  For we’ve been comrades, you and I — I thank God for each day of you;  There! bless you now! Old Year, good-bye!
# Rhymes of a Rolling Stone/The Lunger

The Lunger
Jack would laugh an’ joke all day; Never saw a lad so gay; Singin’ like a medder lark, Loaded to the Plimsoll mark With God’s sunshine was that boy; Had a strangle-holt on Joy. Held his head ’way up in air, Left no callin’ cards on Care; Breezy, buoyant, brave and true; Sent his sunshine out to you; Cheerfulest when clouds was black —  Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!
Sittin’ in my shack alone I could hear him in his own, Singin’ far into the night, Till it didn’t seem just right One man should corral the fun, Live his life so in the sun; Didn’t seem quite natural Not to have a grouch at all; Not a trouble, not a lack —  Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!
He was plumbful of good cheer Till he struck that low-down year; Got so thin, so little to him, You could most see day-light through him. Never was his eye so bright, Never was his cheek so white. Seemed as if somethin’ was wrong, Sort o’ quaver in his song. Same old smile, same hearty voice: “Bless you, boys! let’s all rejoice!” But old Doctor shook his head: “Half a lung,” was all he said. Yet that half was surely right, For I heard him every night, Singin’, singin’ in his shack —  Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!
Then one day a letter came Endin’ with a female name; Seemed to get him in the neck, Sort o’ pile-driver effect; Paled his lip and plucked his breath, Left him starin’ still as death. Somethin’ had gone awful wrong, Yet that night he sang his song. Oh, but it was good to hear! For there clutched my heart a fear, So that I quaked listenin’ Every night to hear him sing. But each day he laughed with me, An’ his smile was full of glee. Nothin’ seemed to set him back —  Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!
Then one night the singin’ stopped... Seemed as if my heart just flopped; For I’d learned to love the boy With his gilt-edged line of joy, With his glorious gift of bluff, With his splendid fightin’ stuff. Sing on, lad, and play the game! O dear God!... no singin’ came, But there surged to me instead — Silence, silence, deep and dread; Till I shuddered, tried to pray, Said: “He’s maybe gone away.” Oh, yes, he had gone away, Gone forever and a day. But he’d left behind him there, In his cabin, pinched and bare, His poor body, skin and bone, His sharp face, cold as a stone. An’ his stiffened fingers pressed Somethin’ bright upon his breast: Locket with a silken curl, Poor, sweet portrait of a girl. Yet I reckon at the last How defiant-like he passed; For there sat upon his lips Smile that death could not eclipse; An’ within his eyes lived still Joy that dyin’ could not kill.
An’ now when the nights are long, How I miss his cheery song! How I sigh an’ wish him back!  Happy Jack! Oh, Happy Jack!
# Rhymes of a Rolling Stone/The Quitter

The Quitter
When you’re lost in the Wild, and you’re scared as a child,  And Death looks you bang in the eye, And you’re sore as a boil, it’s according to Hoyle  To cock your revolver and... die. But the Code of a Man says: “Fight all you can,”  And self-dissolution is barred. In hunger and woe, oh, it’s easy to blow...  It’s the hell-served-for-breakfast that’s hard.
“You’re sick of the game!” Well, now, that’s a shame.  You’re young and you’re brave and you’re bright. “You’ve had a raw deal!” I know — but don’t squeal,  Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight. It’s the plugging away that will win you the day,  So don’t be a piker, old pard! Just draw on your grit; it’s so easy to quit:  It’s the keeping-your-chin-up that’s hard.
It’s easy to cry that you’re beaten — and die;  It’s easy to crawfish and crawl; But to fight and to fight when hope’s out of sight —  Why, that’s the best game of them all! And though you come out of each gruelling bout,  All broken and beaten and scarred, Just have one more try — it’s dead easy to die,  It’s the keeping-on-living that’s hard.
# Rhymes of a Rolling Stone/The Mother

The Mother