"It Is Love" – 4372 rezultate
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AAAbdul al-Hazred
Abdul Alhazred is a fictional character created by American horror writer H. P. Lovecraft. He is the so-called "Mad Arab" credited with authoring the imaginary book Kitab al-Azif (the Necronomicon), and as such an integral part of Cthulhu Mythos lore. Despite the existence of several hoax Necronomicons, it is clear that neither Alhazred nor his book ever existed. The name Abdul Alhazred is a pseudonym that Lovecraft created in his youth, which he took on after reading 1001 Arabian Nights at the age of about five years. The name was invented either by Lovecraft, or by Albert Baker, the Phillips family lawyer. Abdul is a common Arabic name component (but never a name by itself; additionally the ending -ul and the beginning Al- are redundant), but Alhazred may allude to Hazard, a name from Lovecraft's family tree. It might also have been a pun on "all-has-read", since Lovecraft was an avid reader in youth. Abdul Alhazred is not a real Arabic name, and seems to contain the Arabic definite...
1 poezii, 0 proze
ITIoan Tițian
Prenume: Ioan Nume: Tițian email: maa_eendo@yahoo.com Photo: by Me ... 1 Does the Eagle know what is in the pit? 2 Or wilt thou go ask the Mole? 3 Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod? 4 Or Love in a golden bowl? (by W. Blake) ... I ne'er was struck before that hour With love so sudden and so sweet. Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower And stole my heart away complete. My face turned pale, a deadly pale. My legs refused to walk away, And when she looked what could I ail My life and all seemed turned to clay. And then my blood rushed to my face And took my eyesight quite away. The trees and bushes round the place Seemed midnight at noonday. I could not see a single thing, Words from my eyes did start. They spoke as chords do from the string, And blood burnt round my heart. Are flowers the winter's choice Is love's bed always snow She seemed to hear my silent voice Not love appeals to know. I never saw so sweet a face As that I stood before. My heart has left its dwelling place And can...
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TET.S. Eliot
Thomas Stearns Eliot, OM (26 September 1888–4 January 1965), was a poet, playwright and literary critic. He received the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1948. Among his most famous writings are the poems The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, The Waste Land, The Hollow Men, Ash Wednesday and Four Quartets; the plays Murder in the Cathedral and The Cocktail Party; and the essay "Tradition and the Individual Talent". Eliot was born in the United States, moved to the United Kingdom in 1914 (at age 25), and became a British subject in 1927 at the age of 39. Of his nationality and its role in his work, Eliot said: "[My poetry] wouldn't be what it is if I'd been born in England, and it wouldn't be what it is if I'd stayed in America. It's a combination of things. But in its sources, in its emotional springs, it comes from America."
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Carmen Harra
Carmen Harra in her own words: Even as a little girl growing up in Romania, I knew I was different. After a near-death experience at age five, I was able to see things others couldn\'t. Everyone who has had a near-death experience describes the sensation of \"going toward the light.” In this parallel world, extraordinary light energy surrounds you and you see an inexpressibly beautiful light. There is no negativity and no anger or sadness, only love. It is a perfect, glowing world, filled with dazzling insights and pure truth, the way our Creator meant it to be. I\'ve never forgotten the lessons this experience taught me. Why, I wondered, wasn\'t life on Earth like this? This parallel world, which I call the Invisible World, is just as real as the physical world here on Earth. It is even more real because the people there are souls unencumbered by ego, emotions, and attachment to material things. Without these negative distractions, souls exist harmoniously in love, joy, and peace. On...
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John 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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Don Miguel de Cervantes y Saavedra
It is not known for certain the exact date of his birth, but since according to Spanish tradition the Christening was carried through very closely after the birth, there is no doubt that his birthday was in 1547. The actual date of the Christening was October 9th, 1547 at the city of Alcala de Henares. Since then, little is known of his childhood, other than he lived with his family in Valladolid, Madrid, and other Andalusian cities. Finally, they settled in Madrid, and afterwards, he became the attendant to the Cardinal Acquaviva in Italy in 1569 . Later on, Cervantes enlisted in to armed forces for the naval Battle of Lepanto (it took place on the 7th of December of 1571) where he was injured. This meant the handicap of his left hand, but he still continued as a soldier, on his voyage returning to Spain 1575 in the galley Sun, he fell prisoner of the Turks when it was over powered. The next five years, Cervantes is a prisoner of war in Algiers, from where he tried to escape four...
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ABAloysius Bertrand
Louis-Jacques-Napoléon “Aloysius” Bertrand (20 April 1807 – 29 April 1841) was a French poet instrumental in the introduction of the prose poem into French literature and is credited with inspiring later Symbolist poets [1]. He wrote a collection of poems entitled Gaspard de la nuit, after which composer Maurice Ravel wrote a suite of the same name, based on the poems "Scarbo", "Ondine", and "Le Gibet". Bertrand was born in Ceva, Piedmont, Italy (then a part of Napoleonic France) and his family settled in Dijon in 1814. There he developed an interest in the Burgundian capital. His contributions to a local paper lead to recognition by Victor Hugo and Sainte-Beuve. He lived in Paris shortly with little success. He returned to Dijon and continued writing for local newspapers. Gaspard was sold in 1836 but it wasn't published until 1842 after his death of tuberculosis. The book was rediscovered by Charles Baudelaire and Stéphane Mallarmé. It is now considered a classic of poetic and...
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JRJalal ad-Dīn Muhammad Rumi
Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Balkhī, also known as Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī, and popularly known as Mowlānā but known to the English-speaking world simply as Rumi (30 September 1207 – 17 December 1273), was a 13th-century Persian (Tajik) Muslim poet, jurist, theologian, and Sufi mystic. Rūmī is a descriptive name meaning "the Roman" since he lived most of his life in an area called Rūm because it was once ruled by the Eastern Roman Empire. It is likely that he was born in the village of Wakhsh, a small town located at the river Wakhsh in what is now Tajikistan. Wakhsh belonged to the larger province of Balkh, and in the year Rumi was born, his father was an appointed scholar there. Both these cities were at the time included in the greater Persian cultural sphere of Khorasan, the easternmost province of Persia, and were part of the Khwarezmian Empire. Image of the Rumi on an old book in the Mevlâna museum; Konya,...
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MAManuel Acuña
Manuel Acuña Narro (27 August 1849 – 6 December 1873) was a 19th-century Mexican writer. He focused on poetry, but also wrote some novels and plays. Even though he was famous at an early time of his life, he decided to commit suicide. It is not certain why he killed himself, but it is thought that he did so because of a woman. Acuña was born in the city of Saltillo, Coahuila, on August 27, 1849 to Francisco Acuña and Refugio Narro. He was taught how to write and read at an early age. Later he studied in the “Colegio Josefino”, in Saltillo. Around 1865 he was transferred to Mexico City to the School of San Ildefonso, where he entered as a full time student. Here he studied mathematics, Latin, French and philosophy. Acuña lived at a time at which Mexican society was dominated by philosophical-positivist intellectuality. Furthermore he was living as a romantic tendency in poetry was occurring. In January 1868, Acuña initiated his studies in medicine at the...
1 poezii, 0 proze
GAGertrudis Gómez de Avellaneda
Gertrudis Gómez de Avellaneda y Arteaga (March 23, 1814-February 1, 1873) was a Cuban writer of the 19th century. Born: March 23, 1814 Puerto Príncipe (modern day Camaguey), Cuba Died: February 1, 1873; Madrid, Spain Nationality Cuban Gertrudis Gómez de Avellaneda y Arteaga, widely known as la Avellaneda, was born in Puerto Príncipe (modern day Camaguey), Cuba. She came from a noble background; her father, Manuel Gomez de Avellaneda, was a descendent of the royal family of Navarre and aristocracy of Vizcaya of Spain, and also a commander of the Spanish navy in charge of the central regions of Cuba. Her mother, Francisca de Arteaga y Betancourt, was also from a wealthy Spanish family that had lived in Puerto Príncipe. It is said that her mother’s family is the one that inspired the family in her first novel, Sab. As a child la Avellaneda was not interested in feminine materials. She was given a tutor and soon became engulfed in the books she was given to read. Her mother tried...
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You make me feel...
de Cristina
You make me feel Like love is real But when you\'re not here I realize it\'s not. I need you to lead me In this cold dark world, I need you to teach me All about love. Is love just a game All about...
Love like I understand it...
de Horațiu Pușcă
Love is mine and love is yours, Make by heart, My love was from the begining For what I want to feel it sure, To feel always the love out there Where my heart brightening for you, it was in pain, In...
Here it is
de Leonard Cohen
Here is your crown And your seal and rings; And here is your love For all things. Here is your cart, And your cardboard and piss; And here is your love For all of this. May everyone live, And may...
\"A walk to remember..\"
de ciornei corina
Love is always patient and kind.It is never gelous..Love is never boustfull,no consided.It is never rude or selfish..It does not take offence and it is not resendfull..Love takes no pleasure in...
Sonnet LXI
de William Shakespeare
Is it thy will thy image should keep open My heavy eyelids to the weary night? Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken, While shadows like to thee do mock my sight? Is it thy spirit that thou...
Sonnet XLII
de William Shakespeare
That thou hast her, it is not all my grief, And yet it may be said I loved her dearly; That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief, A loss in love that touches me more nearly. Loving offenders, thus I...
The Passionate Pilgrim
de William Shakespeare
I. WHEN my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutor\'d youth, Unskilful in the world\'s false forgeries. Thus vainly...
Sonnet CXVI
de William Shakespeare
Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on...
Serenade (For Music)
de Oscar Wilde
The western wind is blowing fair Across the dark AEgean sea, And at the secret marble stair My Tyrian galley waits for thee. Come down! the purple sail is spread, The watchman sleeps within the town,...
I dream
de Crăița Șerbănescu
I dream of things that can not be I dream and in my dreams I fly And that is me or that is I But matters not of dreams or real It is the way I truly feel And deep inside I know of love And in the sky...