The characters do have a life of their own; it's weird.
quote by Julie Walters
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Related quotes
Weird World
It's a Weird World...Weird World
Hey, hey, hey!
The sun is over the city but it's an orange day
There is reason for looking up but I'm feeling down
You see Ive got to catch a plane, won't buy a ticket
'Cause it's hard to just stop when you're spinning around
Its a weird world dont you know it?
Its a weird world and it wont slow down
Its a weird world no matter how you roll it
Hey, hey, hey! Sweet baby
Theres a way
Just stand up and fight it
Hey, hey, hey!
Never give up, and dont let it wear out (now)
Your love
It's a weird world...Yeah
Sent a message to a G.I.
In the desert
Said thank you man for bringing another dawn
Back here it's her and me
And we're having our first baby
And he's out there taking them on (on)
Its a weird world and I know you know it
Its a weird world and it wont slow down
Its a weird world no matter how you roll it
Hey, hey, hey! Sweet baby
Theres a way
Just stand up and fight it
Hey, hey, hey!
Never give up, dont let it wear out (now)
Your love
Im closing my eyes but Im starting to see
While hes looking at you, shes looking at me
The only thing he does is just keep me away from you
Sure part of this place would cheer if I died
Dont let them take away your beautiful smile
Take away your beautiful smile
Take away your beautiful smile
Hey, hey, hey! Sweet baby
Theres a way
Just stand up and fight it (Yeah, ye-ah!)
Hey, hey, hey! (sweet baby!) Sweet baby
Theres a way
For you to decide it
Hey, hey, hey!
Never give up, dont let it wear out (now)
Your love
Hey, hey, hey!
Its a weird world dont you know it?
Hey, hey, hey!
[...] Read more
song performed by Backstreet Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Some Weird Sin
Pop/bowie
Well, I never got my license to live
They wont give it up
So I stand at the worlds edge
Well, Im trying to break in
Oh no, its not for me
And the sight of it all
Makes me sad and ill
Thats when I want
Some weird sin
Things get too straight
I cant bear it
I feel stuck
Stuck on a pin
Well Im trying to break in
And I know its not for me
And the sight of it all
Makes me sad and ill
Thats when I want
Some weird sin
Thats when I want
Some weird sin
Just to relax with
Thats some dumb weird sin
For a while anyway
With my head on the ledge
Thats what you get out on the edge
Some weird sin
Things get too straight
I cant bear it
I feel stuck
Stuck on a pin
Im trying to break in
Oh, I know its not for me
Well, the sight of it all
Makes me sad and ill
Thats when I want
Some weird sin
Thats when I want
Some weird sin
Just to relax with
.
Thats some dumb weird sin
For a while anyway
With my head out on the ledge
Thats what you get out on the edge
Some weird sin
Some weird sin, some weird sin
song performed by Iggy Pop
Added by Lucian Velea
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Weird Science
(weird science)
Plastic tubes and pots and pans
Bits and pieces and
Magic from the hand
Were makin
(weird science)
Things Ive never seen before
Behind bolted doors
Talent and imagination
(weird science)
Not what teacher said to do
Makin dreams come true
Living tissue, warm flesh
(weird science)
Plastic tubes and pots and pans
Bits and pieces (and)
Bits and pieces (and)
Chorus
(bits of) my creation--is it real?
Its my creation--i do not know
No hesitation--no heart of gold
Just flesh and blood--i do not know
From my heart and from my hand
Why dont people understand
My intentions . . . . oooh, weird . . . .
Weird science!!
(weird science)
Magic and technology
Voodoo dolls and chants
Electricity
Were makin
(weird science)
Fantasy and microchips
Shooting from the hip
Something different
Were makin
(weird science)
Pictures from a magazine
Diagrams and charts
Mending broken hearts (and makin)
(weird science)
Something like a recipe
Bits and pieces . . . .
Bits and pieces . . . .
song performed by Oingo Boingo
Added by Lucian Velea
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Weird
I like the way you never sleep
And the promises you never keep
I like the way you say hello
And make it sound like time to go
I like the scar above your lip
The way you let your feelings slip
But they are never what you feel
Oh so fake but completely real
Dont you think its weird
Weirder then weird
Thats what you are
Thats what you are to be
What I like about you
Is what you like about me
Dont you think its weird
I like the rules that multiply
And make the good things
Pass you by
Standing here without a plan
Thats why your such a happy man
Dont you think its weird
Weirder then weird
Thats what you are
Thats what you are to be
What I like about you
Is what you like about me
Dont you think its 1,2
I wanna make some changes
I want my money back
I wanna start up with you
I wanna talk to strangers
I wanna be with you
But I just dont know
Where or When
Thats what you are
Thats what you are to be
What I like about you
Is what you like about me
Dont you think its weird
Weirder then weird
Thats what you are
Thats what you are to be
What I like about you
Is what you like about me
Dont you think its weird
song performed by Hilary Duff
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Loveable Characters
I long for the streets but the Lord knoweth best,
For there I am never a saint;
There are lovable characters out in the West,
With humour heroic and quaint;
And, be it Up Country, or be it Out Back,
When I shall have gone to my Home,
I trust to be buried 'twixt River and Track
Where my lovable characters roam.
There are lovable characters drag through the scrub,
Where the Optimist ever prevails;
There are lovable characters hang round the pub,
There are lovable jokers at sales
Where the auctioneer's one of the lovable wags
(Maybe from his "order" estranged),
And the beer is on tap, and the pigs in the bags
Of the purchasing cockies are changed.
There were lovable characters out in the West,
Of fifty hot summers, or more,
Who could not be proved, when it came to the test,
Too old to be sent to the war;
They were all forty-five and were orphans, they said,
With no one to keep them, or keep;
And mostly in France, with the world's bravest dead,
Those lovable characters sleep.
I long for the streets, but the Lord knoweth best,
For there I am never a saint;
There are lovable characters out in the West,
With humour heroic and quaint;
And, be it Up Country, or be it Out Back,
When I shall have gone to my Home,
I trust to be buried 'twixt River and Track
Where my lovable characters roam.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Weird
Weird...
is not...
Life...
Life is
Not weird...
some time life
Weird...
Some time not
Weird...
Don't woory
weird is not life...
Life also....
Some time weird....
cry...
woory...
sad...
sin...
happy...
Is all weird...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Weird Nightmare
Weird nightmare
You haunt my every dream
Weird nightmare
Tell me whats your scheme?
Can it be that youre a part
Of a lonely broken heart?
Weird nightmare
Why must you torment me?
Weird nightmare
Pain and misery
In a heart thats loved and lost
Take away the grief youve caused
Cant sleep at night
Twist, turn in fright
With the fear that Ill live it all again
In my dreams
Youre there to haunt me
When you say she doesnt want me
Ive been hurt
Do you know what that means?
Weird nightmare
Take away this dream youve born
Weird nightmare
Mend a heart thats torn
That has paid the price of love
A thousand fold
Bring me a love
With a heart of gold
Weird nightmare
song performed by Elvis Costello
Added by Lucian Velea
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Weird
Isnt it weird. isnt it strange.
Even though were just two strangers on this runaway train
Were both trying to find a place in the sun
Weve lived in the shadows, but doesnt everyone
Isnt it strange how we all feel a little bit weird sometimes
Isnt it hard. standing in the rain.
Youre on the verge of going crazy and your hearts in pain
No one can hear though youre screaming so loud
You feel all alone in a faceless crowd
Isnt it strange how we all get a little bit weird sometimes.
Sitting on the side. waiting for a sign. hoping that my luck will change.
Reaching for a hand that can understand, someone who feels the same.
When you live in a cookie cutter world being different is a sin.
So you dont stand out. and you dont fit in. weird.
Sitting on the side. waiting for a sign. hoping that my luck will change.
Reaching for a hand that can understand, someone who feels the same.
When you live in a cookie cutter world if youre different you cant win.
So you dont stand out and you dont fit in. weird.
Isnt it strange how we all feel a little bit weird
Strange, how we all get a little bit.
Strange, cause were all just a little bit weird sometimes.
song performed by Hanson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Bad Side Of The Moon
(bernie taupin/elton john)
Published by songs of polygram international - bmi
Seems as though Ive lived my life on the bad side of the moon
To stir your dregs, and sittin still, without a rustic spoon
Now come on people, live with me, where the light has never shone
And the harlots flock like hummingbirds, speakin in a foreign tongue
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
It seems as though Ive lived my life on the bad side of the moon
To stir your dregs, and sittin still, without a rustic spoon
Now come on people, live with me, where the light has never shone
And the harlots flock like hummingbirds, speakin in a foreign tongue
Im a light world away, from the people who make me stay
Sittin on the bad side of the moon
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
There aint no need for watchdogs here, to justify our ways
We lived our lives in manacles, the main cause of our stay
And exiled here from other worlds, my sentence comes to soon
Why should I be made to pay on the bad side of the moon
Im a light world away, from the people who make me stay
Sittin on the bad side of the moon
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
song performed by April Wine
Added by Lucian Velea
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Is She Weird
I know youre rich in
Good clothes and little things
Your mind is fancy
(and your car is bitchin)
Is she weird
Is she weird, is she white
Is she promised to the night
And her head has no room
And her head has no room
Your heart is ripshit
Your mouth is everywhere
Im lyin in it
Is she weird
Is she over me
Like the stars and the sun
Like the stars and the sun
Is she weird
Is she weird, is she white
Is she promised to the night
And her head has no room!
No more of this girl cryin
Im here, your big man
Youre mine
Is she weird, is she white
Is she promised to the night
And her head has no room
song performed by Pixies
Added by Lucian Velea
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I used to think that anyone doing anything weird was weird. I suddenly realized that anyone doing anything weird wasn't weird at all and it was the people saying they were weird that were weird.
quote by Paul McCartney
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Was Made To Think It
First and foremost you've been the ultimate friend
But you know that's not a passport to me
It's seems secondary to the official reasons I have
But you know they're not right
They're not supposed to be right
Such a royal misfit
You demand the highest respect
Such a royal misfit
Your demands should be higher
It wasn't weird it wasn't nothing
Curious at all but nothing so high
It wasn't weird it wasn't nothing
It wasn't nothing
Moments follow one another without belonging
Moments follow one another without belonging
Moments follow one another without belonging
Moments follow one another without belonging
First and foremost what you know isn't everything you are
Or everything you know it to be
It seems secondary that the real real reason I have
When you know it's not right
It's not supposed to be right
Such a royal misfit
You demand the highest respect
Such a royal misfit
Your demands should be higher
It wasn't weird it wasn't nothing
Curious at all but nothing so high
It wasn't weird it wasn't nothing
Curious at all but nothing so high
It wasn't weird it wasn't nothing
Curious at all but nothing so high
It wasn't weird it wasn't nothing
It wasn't nothing
Moments follow one another without belonging
Moments follow one another without belonging
Moments follow one another without belonging
Moments follow one another without belonging
Everything you are won't last longer
Everything you are won't last longer
Won't last longer
Won't last longer
song performed by Idlewild
Added by Lucian Velea
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[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]
POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR
POEMS
1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song
[...] Read more
poem by Mahendra Bhatnagar
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The Witch of Hebron
A Rabbinical Legend
Part I.
From morn until the setting of the sun
The rabbi Joseph on his knees had prayed,
And, as he rose with spirit meek and strong,
An Indian page his presence sought, and bowed
Before him, saying that a lady lay
Sick unto death, tormented grievously,
Who begged the comfort of his holy prayers.
The rabbi, ever to the call of grief
Open as day, arose; and girding straight
His robe about him, with the page went forth;
Who swiftly led him deep into the woods
That hung, heap over heap, like broken clouds
On Hebron’s southern terraces; when lo!
Across a glade a stately pile he saw,
With gleaming front, and many-pillared porch
Fretted with sculptured vinage, flowers and fruit,
And carven figures wrought with wondrous art
As by some Phidian hand.
But interposed
For a wide space in front, and belting all
The splendid structure with a finer grace,
A glowing garden smiled; its breezes bore
Airs as from paradise, so rich the scent
That breathed from shrubs and flowers; and fair the growths
Of higher verdure, gemm’d with silver blooms,
Which glassed themselves in fountains gleaming light
Each like a shield of pearl.
Within the halls
Strange splendour met the rabbi’s careless eyes,
Halls wonderful in their magnificance,
With pictured walls, and columns gleaming white
Like Carmel’s snow, or blue-veined as with life;
Through corridors he passed with tissues hung
Inwrought with threaded gold by Sidon’s art,
Or rich as sunset clouds with Tyrian dye;
Past lofty chambers, where the gorgeous gleam
Of jewels, and the stainèd radiance
Of golden lamps, showed many a treasure rare
Of Indian and Armenian workmanship
Which might have seemed a wonder of the world:
And trains of servitors of every clime,
Greeks, Persians, Indians, Ethiopians,
In richest raiment thronged the spacious halls.
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Harpur
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The City of Dreadful Night
Per me si va nella citta dolente.
--Dante
Poi di tanto adoprar, di tanti moti
D'ogni celeste, ogni terrena cosa,
Girando senza posa,
Per tornar sempre la donde son mosse;
Uso alcuno, alcun frutto
Indovinar non so.
Sola nel mondo eterna, a cui si volve
Ogni creata cosa,
In te, morte, si posa
Nostra ignuda natura;
Lieta no, ma sicura
Dell' antico dolor . . .
Pero ch' esser beato
Nega ai mortali e nega a' morti il fato.
--Leopardi
PROEM
Lo, thus, as prostrate, "In the dust I write
My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears."
Yet why evoke the spectres of black night
To blot the sunshine of exultant years?
Why disinter dead faith from mouldering hidden?
Why break the seals of mute despair unbidden,
And wail life's discords into careless ears?
Because a cold rage seizes one at whiles
To show the bitter old and wrinkled truth
Stripped naked of all vesture that beguiles,
False dreams, false hopes, false masks and modes of youth;
Because it gives some sense of power and passion
In helpless innocence to try to fashion
Our woe in living words howe'er uncouth.
Surely I write not for the hopeful young,
Or those who deem their happiness of worth,
Or such as pasture and grow fat among
The shows of life and feel nor doubt nor dearth,
Or pious spirits with a God above them
To sanctify and glorify and love them,
Or sages who foresee a heaven on earth.
For none of these I write, and none of these
Could read the writing if they deigned to try;
[...] Read more
poem by James Thomson
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A Mirror Image
How many times when reading a book,
do we identify with the characters within?
Their traits they have we share,
their loves and heartaches
their lives go through somehow mirror our own.
It’s as if the author was writing about us.
As though he has put us under a microscope
and then writing down everything, he saw.
However, we know this isn’t so
because he or she has written
segments of their own life
and by accident they happen to mirror ours.
Every writer will tell you
that they have their characters under control.
Having written numerous novels,
I know the characters take on a life of their own
and do what they want to do.
We become their instrument as they guide us on our way.
We end up writing what they want us to say.
To every writer his characters are real,
they live, breathe and feel.
The more you write about them,
the more alive they become.
So the next time you pick up a book
and the characters seem real,
they probably are to the author
who looks after them.
24 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Custer
BOOK FIRST.
I.
ALL valor died not on the plains of Troy.
Awake, my Muse, awake! be thine the joy
To sing of deeds as dauntless and as brave
As e'er lent luster to a warrior's grave.
Sing of that noble soldier, nobler man,
Dear to the heart of each American.
Sound forth his praise from sea to listening sea-
Greece her Achilles claimed, immortal Custer, we.
II.
Intrepid are earth's heroes now as when
The gods came down to measure strength with men.
Let danger threaten or let duty call,
And self surrenders to the needs of all;
Incurs vast perils, or, to save those dear,
Embraces death without one sigh or tear.
Life's martyrs still the endless drama play
Though no great Homer lives to chant their worth to-day.
III.
And if he chanted, who would list his songs,
So hurried now the world's gold-seeking throngs?
And yet shall silence mantle mighty deeds?
Awake, dear Muse, and sing though no ear heeds!
Extol the triumphs, and bemoan the end
Of that true hero, lover, son and friend
Whose faithful heart in his last choice was shown-
Death with the comrades dear, refusing flight alone.
IV.
He who was born for battle and for strife
Like some caged eagle frets in peaceful life;
So Custer fretted when detained afar
From scenes of stirring action and of war.
And as the captive eagle in delight,
When freedom offers, plumes himself for flight
And soars away to thunder clouds on high,
With palpitating wings and wild exultant cry,
V.
So lion-hearted Custer sprang to arms,
And gloried in the conflict's loud alarms.
[...] Read more
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Weird At My School
1-2-3-4
My father lives in arabia
And I live right here at my school
I took his plane to columbia
So I could sail at my school(? ) *
Its weird at my school
Weird at my school(3x)
My mothers glad that I am here
So she can visit my school
I cant believe shes so pretty
Im a son of a bitch at my school
Weird at my school(4x)
And my best friend, my cousin eleanor
She lives far away from the doors of my school
And often times, you know I fantasize
That I have sex with the nuns at my school
Its weird at my school
Weird at my school(7x)
(transcribed by moses boole)
* : or so I could sell at my school (according to rhys henry mason)
song performed by Pixies
Added by Lucian Velea
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Weird Nights
..weird nights
...no stars..
no heaven
...just black clouds..
where the devils hide
..their emotions..
even their masks
...need to retrace back
love gine wild..
..on weird nights
when seagulls scamper
...for a ride on blue boats
salining on the skies
..wher lovers hide
their emotions
...clothed with stained hankies
another weird night
..and i am jotting a weird poem
only weird mind understood
poem by Villiamor Calventas
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