"All but... different garments..." – 2188 rezultate
0.02 secundeMeilisearchJohn Willy Kopperud
It\'s All Over Now, Baby Blue Bob Dylan You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last. But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast. Yonder stands your orphan with his gun, Crying like a fire in the sun. Look out the saints are comin\' through And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense. Take what you have gathered from coincidence. The empty-handed painter from your streets Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets. This sky, too, is folding under you And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. All your seasick sailors, they are rowing home. All your reindeer armies, are all going home. The lover who just walked out your door Has taken all his blankets from the floor. The carpet, too, is moving under you And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you. Forget the dead you\'ve left, they will not follow you. The vagabond who\'s rapping at your door Is standing in the clothes that you...
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Duca Horia
So why did I do it? I could offer a million answers, all false. The truth is that I'm a bad person, but that's gonna change. I'm going to change. This is the last of that sort of thing. I'm cleaning up and I'm moving on. Going straight and choosing life. I'm looking forward to it already. I'm going to be just like you. The job, the family, the fucking big television, the washing machine, the car, the compact disc, and electrical tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisurewear, luggage, three-piece suite, D.I.Y., game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, 9:00 to 5:00, good at golf, washing the car,choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption, clearing gutters, getting by,looking ahead to the day you die.
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John Steinbeck
John Steinbeck (1902-1968), born in Salinas, California, came from a family of moderate means. He worked his way through college at Stanford University but never graduated. In 1925 he went to New York, where he tried for a few years to establish himself as a free-lance writer, but he failed and returned to California. After publishing some novels and short stories, Steinbeck first became widely known with Tortilla Flat (1935), a series of humorous stories about Monterey paisanos. Steinbeck's novels can all be classified as social novels dealing with the economic problems of rural labour, but there is also a streak of worship of the soil in his books, which does not always agree with his matter-of-fact sociological approach. After the rough and earthy humour of Tortilla Flat, he moved on to more serious fiction, often aggressive in its social criticism, to In Dubious Battle (1936), which deals with the strikes of the migratory fruit pickers on California plantations. This was followed...
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nicoleta d.
no words are enough to say what I had lived...the words are plane and could not show the beauty that ihave lived...nothing is important to me, but my , myself and I...I could write my life with simple words but the sparkness of the real life could not be seen and felt...so all that I can say is that I live, not only exist...
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JTJan Twardowski
Jan Jakub Twardowski (June 1, 1915 – January 18, 2006) was a famous Polish poet, but, as he said of himself, he was a priest (of the Catholic Church) first of all. He was a chief Polish representative of contemporary religious lyrics. He wrote short, simple poems, humorous, sometimes with colloquialisms. He joins observation of nature with philosophical reflexion. Twardowski received many awards and medals for his output. Jan Twardowski was born on June 1, 1915 in Warsaw, Congress Poland, Russian Empire as a son of Jan Twardowski and Aniela Maria Konderska. Several weeks later his family was forced to move to Russia (it was World War I). After 3 years the family moved back to Warsaw. In 1927, after finishing a primary school, he started his education in mathematical and environmental gymnasium. He finished it in 1935. In 1932 he began working with the gymnasium youth newspaper called KuŸnia M³odych. He had his own column there, he wrote poems, short stories, interviews with writers,...
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DMdan marius
"Well, I've been a disclaimer for twenty-four years Poor mother drowned in a pillow of tears Im well known in story, famous in song The black sheep, the blemish, the one who went wrong The black sheep, the blemish, the one who went wrong My crime is discomfort, my mind ill at ease Old crow on my shoulder, my favorite disease My siblings, my rivals might tend to my wake Grieve me not brothers, I was mother's mistake Grieve me not brothers, I was mother's mistake And all the grand expectations of an epic of wealth Leave me long to crawl back to the womb Well, I've tasted your grace, placed it back on the shelf Drag your pedigree wives to your tomb Drag your pedigree wives to your tomb Well, I came from this city, a victim of peace But I've grown far too filthy to attend to the feast So I'll take to the hills to live savage and free I don't need nobody, nobody needs me I don't need nobody, nobody needs me" http://www.obliothedagger.blogspot.com/
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JKJohn Keats
John Keats was born on 31 October 1795 (probably), first child of Thomas Keats and Frances Jennings Keats, who had apparently eloped1. Everything was pretty ordinary for all concerned for a while--the Keatses had three more sons (George and Thomas, plus Edward who died as a baby) and one daughter, Frances, by 1803. That was also the year when John went away to school at Enfield. In 1804, John\'s father was killed in a fall from a horse. Just over two months later, for mysterious reasons, Frances remarried, to a London bank clerk named William Rawlings. Frances quickly decided she\'d made some sort of terrible error and left, taking nothing with her since the laws of the time decreed that all her property and even her children belonged to her husband. Frances\' mother, Alice, swept in and took custody of the children, but she could do nothing about the Swan and Hoop, which Rawlings sold immediately before disappearing. It was around this time that John became prone to fistfights, which...
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RSRobert Louis Stevenson
13 noiembrie 1850 - 3 decembrie 1894 Robert Louis Stevenson was born to Thomas and Margaret Isabella Balfour Stevenson in Edinburgh on 13 November 1850. From the beginning he was sickly. Through much of his childhood he was attended by his faithful nurse, Alison Cunningham, known as Cummy in the family circle. She told him morbid stories about the Covenanters (the Scots Presbyterian martyrs), read aloud to him Victorian penny-serial novels, Bible stories, and the Psalms, and drilled the catechism into him, all with his parents' approval. Thomas Stevenson was quite a storyteller himself, and his wife doted on their only child, sitting in admiration while her precocious son expounded on religious dogma. Stevenson inevitably reacted to the morbidity of his religious education and to the stiffness of his family's middle-class values, but that rebellion would come only after he entered Edinburgh University.
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PSPublilius Syrus
Scriitor latin, de origine siriană. Autor de mimi (farse), care abundau în maxime morale (sententiae) foarte apreciate atât de contemporanii săi, cât și de posteritate. Engleză Publilius (less correctly Publius) Syrus, a Latin writer of maxims, flourished in the 1st century BC. He was a Syrian who was brought as a slave to Italy, but by his wit and talent he won the favor of his master, who freed and educated him. His mimes, in which he acted himself, had a great success in the provincial towns of Italy and at the games given by Caesar in 46 BC. Publilius was perhaps even more famous as an improviser, and received from Caesar himself the prize in a contest in which he vanquished all his competitors, including the celebrated Decimus Laberius. All that remains of his works is a collection of Sentences (Sententiae), a series of moral maxims in iambic and trochaic verse. This collection must have been made at a very early date, since it was known to Aulus Gellius in the 2nd century AD....
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SCStefan Ciobanasu
Which way is the right path, as I stand upon This chaotic crossroads of hate... How many ways are there to roam On this dark and damned road of fate... "There are many ways, my son, to find where the souls of demons remain...But it takes only one second of despair and of doubt Until at last, your soul, they will gain... Inherit these lands, these things, these dreams That are yours, forever, to adore... For there is no life, in the depths of chaos, my son, For you to explore... C. Vincent Metzen - 'The Initiate' All I ever craved were the two dreams I shared with you. One I now have, will the other one ever dream remain. For yours I truly wish to be. Nightwish - Ever Dream
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The Poems of Sappho, Part III
de Sappho
The Poems of Sappho, Part III 44 Ge\'llws paidofilwte\'ra. More fond of children than Gello. Zenobius, about A.D. 130, quotes this as a proverb. The ghost of Gello was said by the Lesbians to pursue...
The Naming of Cats
de T.S. Eliot
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter, It isn\'t just one of your holiday games; You may think at first I\'m as mad as a hatter When I tell you, a cat must have three different names. First of...
Chase your song
de Florea Ana-Maria
It was raining, again- it was normal and expected. Thoughts were sailing through the rain, trying not to get wet, not to be stopped by the strong,wicked clouds. It was the kind of night in which you...
The Mountain
de Robert Frost
The mountain held the town as in a shadow. I saw so much before I slept there once: I noticed that I missed stars in the west, Where its black body cut into the sky. Near me it seemed: I felt it like...
Way Of The Souls
de Octav Chivulescu
ISBN 973-0-03999-2 Noita R. Ipsni WAY OF THE SOULS * OURSELVES CIVILIZATION OF THE INS SOURCE OF LIGHT ARCHAEOLOGY OF THE FUTURE COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS CHAPTER 666 TRACES IN THE SAND Computer...
The Star-Splitter
de Robert Frost
`You know Orion always comes up sideways. Throwing a leg up over our fence of mountains, And rising on his hands, he looks in on me Busy outdoors by lantern-light with something I should have done by...
de Sorin
Love is not meant for me It took a different path, Far away from were I’m at. I am banned from that place, If I come near It disappears without a trace. Then my search continues, Hope it’s all that...
A rose
de Andrei Tudora
When you’re sad and want to cry I want to help but don’t know why. To make you smile, remove your tears, It’s all I wanted for so many years. But you ignore me all the time, And don’t whant for us to...
Falling in love
de Florin DeRoxas
I’m falling in love Again and again, Even if I know I’ll get only pain. With you I see Everything in a different light And whatever I do Only you’re in my sight. And I know that My chances are close...
Death
de Vlad Adrian
What is death? Is it the final step in our life? Is it a killer of faith? Or is something like a knife? Are we afraid of dying? Or we're afraid of living, Of living without leaving anything behind...