Their is no defense against criticism except obscurity.
quote by Joseph Addison
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Related quotes
To His Defense
To his defense, I understand the problem that is at hand.
To his defense, I understand the turmoil behind all of this.
To his defense, you'll never live the life he has endured.
To his defense, judge, I object to the inaccuracies you are spewing forth.
Be prepared to kill two birds with one stone.
Anxiety rises about the room.
As the swine feeds on frozen hearts.
A sign of treason ascends in my thoughts.
My conscience was right, the traitor exposed.
To his defense, there must be a reason for all the things he has done.
To his defense, it could easily be a coincidence.
To his defense, look at him now.
He's happier than I'll ever become.
To his defense, theres no defense.
No toleration for betrayal.
poem by Aaron Lynn
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My Obscurity
My life works hard around obscurity it orders my life
My life is a blessing it defines obscurity in my life
Would there be no obscurity there’d be no life
There’d be no me there’d be no exhilaration
Fretfulness, absorption, anticipation love to lust, lust to love
life to death, death to life pain to hurt, hurt to misery
It’s all a obscurity creativeness, endowment and talent
To my poetic life what would there be a obscurity
poem by Dr Shamim ali
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I Am Understood?
Sometimes its embarrassing to talk to you
To hold a conversation with the only one who sees right through
This version of myself
I try to hide behind
Ill bury my face because my disgrace will leave me terrified
And sometimes Im so thankful for your loyalty
Your love regardless of the mistakes I make will spoil me
My confidence is, in a sense, a gift youve given me
And Im satisfied to realize youre all Ill ever need
You looked into my life
And never stopped
And youre thinking all my thoughts
Are so simple but so beautiful
And you recite my words right back to me
Before I even speak
You let me know, I am understood
And sometimes I spend my time
Just trying to escape
I work so hard, so desperately, in an attempt to create space
Cause I want distance from the utmost important thing I know
I see your love, then turn my back, and beg for you to go
You looked into my life
And never stopped
And youre thinking all my thoughts
Are so simple but so beautiful
And you recite my words right back to me
Before I even speak
You let me know, I am understood
Youre the only one who understands
Completely
Youre the only one who knows me yet still loves completely
And sometimes the place Im at is at a loss for words
If I think of something worthy, I know that its already yours
And through the times Ive faded and youve outlined me again
Youve just patiently waited, to bring me back and then
You looked into my life
And never stopped
And youre thinking all my thoughts
Are so simple but so beautiful
And you recite my words right back to me
Before I even speak
You let me know, I am understood
The noise has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvaction
Your voice has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvation
The noise has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvaction
Your voice has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvation
[...] Read more
song performed by Relient K
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If government, or those in positions of power and authority, can silence criticism by the argument that such criticism might be misunderstood somewhere, there is an end to all criticism, and perhaps an end to our kind of political system. For men in authority will always think that criticism of their policies is dangerous. They will always equate their policies with patriotism, and find criticism subversive.
quote by Henry Steele Commager
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Defense and offence.
Defense is a kind of offence;
Offence is a smart defense.
Offence is to break defense.
Defense is to thwart offence.
As predator, one needs offence.
As a prey, one needs defense.
Otherwise defense is as bad as offence.
12.02.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Dead Man Walkin' (East Enders)
I've been here before - this is where my fingers slipped into yours
This is where I trembled - when you touched mine
This is where the seeds we planted long ago
Grew up to tell us we're too old to know
I've been here before - this is where the novelty starts wearing off, wearing off, wearing off
And all the world's a stage - it's just that I ain't on it anymore, anymore
This ain't Eastenders, this ain't Eastenders, this ain't Eastenders, it's the real thing
What am I supposed to do now?
Crawl down the hole of monotony - monotony - monotony - monotony
The silence is deafening - the phone never rings
Won't somebody help me cos - I feel like I'm drowning
If I should sink - if I should swim
It doesn't really matter anymore - Dead man walkin'
I've been meaning to tell you for oh so long
Baby you got it right 'n I got it wrong
Now I know what ageism means - you gotta try a little harder
you gotta be a little stronger
I've been here before - this is where nothing happens anymore, anymore, anymore,
Someone else's rage - someone else's pain
Someone else's ego - you will believe, you will believe
This ain't Eastenders, this ain't Eastenders, this ain't Eastenders, it's the real thing
What am I supposed to do now?
Sink to the bottom of obscurity, obscurity, obscurity, obscurity
It's a foregone conclusion - a fait accompli
It's all taken care of - you don't have to worry
If I should lose - If I should win
It doesn't really matter anymore - Dead man walkin'
song performed by Ian Hunter
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My mental approach is totally different. My coach predicated everything on defense. He always talked about defense, defense, defense. I took it to heart that if you play defense, you can take the heart from an offensive player.
quote by Eric Williams
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 9
WHILE these affairs in distant places pass’d,
The various Iris Juno sends with haste,
To find bold Turnus, who, with anxious thought,
The secret shade of his great grandsire sought.
Retir’d alone she found the daring man, 5
And op’d her rosy lips, and thus began:
“What none of all the gods could grant thy vows,
That, Turnus, this auspicious day bestows.
Æneas, gone to seek th’ Arcadian prince,
Has left the Trojan camp without defense; 10
And, short of succors there, employs his pains
In parts remote to raise the Tuscan swains.
Now snatch an hour that favors thy designs;
Unite thy forces, and attack their lines.”
This said, on equal wings she pois’d her weight, 15
And form’d a radiant rainbow in her flight.
The Daunian hero lifts his hands and eyes,
And thus invokes the goddess as she flies:
“Iris, the grace of heav’n, what pow’r divine
Has sent thee down, thro’ dusky clouds to shine? 20
See, they divide; immortal day appears,
And glitt’ring planets dancing in their spheres!
With joy, these happy omens I obey,
And follow to the war the god that leads the way.”
Thus having said, as by the brook he stood, 25
He scoop’d the water from the crystal flood;
Then with his hands the drops to heav’n he throws,
And loads the pow’rs above with offer’d vows.
Now march the bold confed’rates thro’ the plain,
Well hors’d, well clad; a rich and shining train. 30
Messapus leads the van; and, in the rear,
The sons of Tyrrheus in bright arms appear.
In the main battle, with his flaming crest,
The mighty Turnus tow’rs above the rest.
Silent they move, majestically slow, 35
Like ebbing Nile, or Ganges in his flow.
The Trojans view the dusty cloud from far,
And the dark menace of the distant war.
Caicus from the rampire saw it rise,
Black’ning the fields, and thick’ning thro’ the skies. 40
Then to his fellows thus aloud he calls:
“What rolling clouds, my friends, approach the walls?
Arm! arm! and man the works! prepare your spears
And pointed darts! the Latian host appears.”
Thus warn’d, they shut their gates; with shouts ascend 45
The bulwarks, and, secure, their foes attend:
For their wise gen’ral, with foreseeing care,
Had charg’d them not to tempt the doubtful war,
Nor, tho’ provok’d, in open fields advance,
But close within their lines attend their chance. 50
[...] Read more
poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Ode to Memory
I.
THOU who stealest fire,
From the fountains of the past,
To glorify the present, oh, haste,
Visit my low desire!
Strengthen me, enlighten me!
I faint in this obscurity,
Thou dewy dawn of memory.
II.
Come not as thou camest of late,
Flinging the gloom of yesternight
On the white day, but robed in soften’d light
Of orient state.
Whilome thou camest with the morning mist,
Even as a maid, whose stately brow
The dew-impearled winds of dawn have kiss’d,
When she, as thou,
Stays on her floating locks the lovely freight
Of overflowing blooms, and earliest shoots
Of orient green, giving safe pledge of fruits,
Which in wintertide shall star
The black earth with brilliance rare.
III.
Whilome thou camest with the morning mist,
And with the evening cloud,
Showering thy gleaned wealth into my open breast;
Those peerless flowers which in the rudest wind
Never grow sere,
When rooted in the garden of the mind,
Because they are the earliest of the year.
Nor was the night thy shroud.
In sweet dreams softer than unbroken rest
Thou leddest by the hand thine infant Hope.
The eddying of her garments caught from thee
The light of thy great presence; and the cope
Of the half-attain’d futurity,
Tho’ deep not fathomless,
Was cloven with the million stars which tremble
O’er the deep mind of dauntless infancy.
Small thought was there of life’s distress;
For sure she deem’d no mist of earth could dull
Those spirit-thrilling eyes so keen and beautiful;
Sure she was nigher to heaven’s spheres,
Listening the lordly music flowing from
The illimitable years.
O strengthen me, enlighten me!
I faint in this obscurity,
Thou dewy dawn of memory.
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Suicidal Idiocies for Life's Deficiencies
Suicide has such an overwhelmingly sadistic, succumbing seduction when pain seems so severly inevitable to treat or avoid its grip based on our abilities, or lack thereof, to not only recognize much more appealing emotions linked to suicide, but also to discipline the monitoring of our personal thoughts and actions into the seemingly impossible thoughts surrounding the actions of inspirational survival as well as the persevering passion for the ultimate recovery from such severly damaging excuses suicide attempts to create as a self-fulfilling validation for what a pathetic, worthless ambition it has been for you to have lived, to keep living, and to have ambition's true, authentic glory fulfilled only through the joyful, exuberant eternity given to us after death life could only dream about waking up to its never ceasing reality we can't even imagine its existence of until we are dead. In this contradicting sense of our battle between the reality realized every day we continue to live versus the extremely cumbersome, intensely overbearing obscurity of a death that is never realized its depth of reality until it has been finalized in only one day's actions, it seems like such a more profitable ambition to force death's one opportunity for the ultimate glory of your life to take a much more natural, healthier course of action that only life has numerous opportunities for not only securing the glory strengthened by living a life free from obscurity, but also securing the glory strengthened by a much more subdued, peaceful death leading to a much stronger sense of exuberant eternity suicide only seeks to destroy and severely downplay the significant worth of your life before and throughout all of your existing eternity. Live a great life rather than dying every day you could have been alive waiting for death's eventual obscurity validated through your willingness in living a highly fulfilling, significant life others will envy to imitate your life giving example in rejecting Suicidal Idiocies for Life's Deficiencies by indulging in Life's Unbelievably Potential Sufficiencies.
poem by Bill Darrah
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 2
ALL were attentive to the godlike man,
When from his lofty couch he thus began:
“Great queen, what you command me to relate
Renews the sad remembrance of our fate:
An empire from its old foundations rent, 5
And ev’ry woe the Trojans underwent;
A peopled city made a desart place;
All that I saw, and part of which I was:
Not ev’n the hardest of our foes could hear,
Nor stern Ulysses tell without a tear. 10
And now the latter watch of wasting night,
And setting stars, to kindly rest invite;
But, since you take such int’rest in our woe,
And Troy’s disastrous end desire to know,
I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell 15
What in our last and fatal night befell.
“By destiny compell’d, and in despair,
The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war,
And by Minerva’s aid a fabric rear’d,
Which like a steed of monstrous height appear’d: 20
The sides were plank’d with pine; they feign’d it made
For their return, and this the vow they paid.
Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side
Selected numbers of their soldiers hide:
With inward arms the dire machine they load, 25
And iron bowels stuff the dark abode.
In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle
(While Fortune did on Priam’s empire smile)
Renown’d for wealth; but, since, a faithless bay,
Where ships expos’d to wind and weather lay. 30
There was their fleet conceal’d. We thought, for Greece
Their sails were hoisted, and our fears release.
The Trojans, coop’d within their walls so long,
Unbar their gates, and issue in a throng,
Like swarming bees, and with delight survey 35
The camp deserted, where the Grecians lay:
The quarters of the sev’ral chiefs they show’d;
Here Phœnix, here Achilles, made abode;
Here join’d the battles; there the navy rode.
Part on the pile their wond’ring eyes employ: 40
The pile by Pallas rais’d to ruin Troy.
Thymoetes first (’t is doubtful whether hir’d,
Or so the Trojan destiny requir’d)
Mov’d that the ramparts might be broken down,
To lodge the monster fabric in the town. 45
But Capys, and the rest of sounder mind,
The fatal present to the flames designed,
Or to the wat’ry deep; at least to bore
The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore.
The giddy vulgar, as their fancies guide, 50
[...] Read more
poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Criminal
Ive been a bad bad girl,
Ive been careless with a delicate man.
And its a sad sad world,
When a girl can break a boy
Just because she can.
Dont you tell me to deny it,
Ive done wrong and I want to
Suffer for my sins.
Ive come to you cause I need
Guidance to be true
And I just dont know where I can begin.
What I need is a good defense
cause Im feelin like a criminal.
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I sinned against
Because he was all I ever knew of love.
Heaven help me for the way I am.
Save me from these evil deeds.
Before I get them done.
I know tomorrow brings the consequence
At hand.
But I keep livin this day like
The next will never come.
Oh, help me, but dont tell me
To deny it.
Ive got to cleanse myself.
Of all these lies till Im good
Enough for him.
Ive got a lot to lose and im
Bettin high
So Im beggin you before it ends
Just tell me where to begin.
What I need is a good defense
cause Im feelin like a criminal.
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I sinned against
Because he was all I ever knew of love.
Let me know the way
Before theres hell to pay.
Give me room to lay the law and let me go.
Ive got to make a play
To make my lover stay
So, what would an angel say?
cause the devil wants to know.
What I need is a good defense
cause Im feelin like a criminal.
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I sinned against
Because he was all I ever knew of love.
What I need is a good defense
[...] Read more
song performed by Fiona Apple
Added by Lucian Velea
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Zilch
By david jones, micky dolenz,
Michael nesmith and peter tork
1st part
Zilch!
Mister dobalena, mister bob dobalena
Mister dobalena, mister bob dobalena
Mister dobalena, mister bob dobalena
Mister dobalena, mister bob dobalena
2nd part
Zilch!
China clipper calling alameda
China clipper calling alameda
China clipper calling alameda
China clipper calling alameda
3rd part
Zilch!
Never mind the furthermore, the plea is self defense.
Never mind the furthermore, the plea is self defense.
Never mind the furthermore, the plea is self defense.
Never mind the furthermore, the plea is self defense.
4th part
Zilch!
It is of my opinion that the people are intending.
It is of my opinion that the people are intending.
It is of my opinion that the people are intending.
It is of my opinion that the people are intending.
song performed by Monkees
Added by Lucian Velea
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Butterflies
If you want me baby,
You've just got to let me know (let me know).
If you want me baby,
You've just got to let me know.
Don't go chasin like the butterflies,
When everything you want is right here by your side.
Don't go chasin like the butterflies,
When everything you want is right here by your side.
If you need me baby,
You've just got to let it show (let it show).
If you need me baby,
You've just got to let it show (let it show).
Why don't you lull your defense,
There's no more room for walls or fantasies.
Why don't you lull your defense,
There's no more room for walls or fantasies.
If you want me baby,
You've just got to let me know (let me know)
If you want me baby,
You've just got to let me know (let me know).
Don't go chasin like the butterflies,
When everything you want is right here by your side.
Don't go chasin like the butterflies,
When everything you want is right here by your side.
If you need me baby,
You've just got to let it show (let it show)
I said
If you need me baby,
You've just got to let it show (let it show).
Why don't you lull your defense,
There's no more room for walls or fantasies.
Why don't you lull your defense,
There's no more room for walls or fantasies.
The first time I saw you,
I felt something inside.
Well, the first time that I saw you,
I felt something inside I couldn't hide.
You know,
The first time that I saw you,
I felt something inside I couldn't hide.
Don't go chasin like the butterflies,
When everything you want is right here by your side.
Don't go chas
song performed by Norah Jones
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Give You My Soul Through Pain
Who wants my honest soul?
I want to be free when the devil is in control.
How much would you give up to buy it?
How much would you give up just to try it?
Let the astral projection begin.
Breath in, breath out.
Picture your self in this unholy body.
Then let the soul draining commence.
I will put up no defense.
It is an absolute surrender.
It is an absolute sacrifice.
In the upright 5 pointed star with a circle with candles surrounding.
A ritual to a perfection.
A Wicca call to the powers of nature.
From the earth, fire, water, wind, and lastly the spirit.
Inflict pain to make it stronger.
Brighter, and more powerful.
Strip the body bare,
Let artificial cloths not shield what's really there.
Rise up, stand up, you need be ashamed it was the we were all made.
With our own weaknesses and strengths.
A unique complexion shall be inscribed upon each every living creature.
No matter if of seems inanimate or not.
Who wants my honest soul?
I want to be free when the devil is in control.
How much would you give up to buy it?
How much would you give up just to try it?
Let the astral projection begin.
Breath in, breath out.
Picture your self in this unholy body.
Then let the soul draining commence.
I will put up no defense.
It is an absolute surrender.
It is an absolute sacrifice.
In the upright 5 pointed star with a circle with candles surrounding.
A ritual to a perfection.
A Wicca call to the powers of nature.
From the earth, fire, water, wind, and lastly the spirit.
Inflict pain to make it stronger.
Brighter, and more powerful.
But the true power is the power within.
You can feel it pulsing through veins with every single beat.
Your heart can never be compromised.
A man will love till his dying breath
Your mind can put you in clouds when your feet are solid on the ground.
[...] Read more
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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An Essay on Criticism
Part I
INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.
'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence
To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose;
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.
'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well;
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not Critics to their judgment too?
Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right:
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.
Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd;
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last.
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,
[...] Read more
poem by Alexander Pope
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On the Critical Attitude
The critical attitude
Strikes many people as unfruitful
That is because they find the state
Impervious to their criticism
But what in this case is an unfruitful attitude
Is merely a feeble attitude. Give criticism arms
And states can be demolished by it.
Canalising a river
Grafting a fruit tree
Educating a person
Transforming a state
These are instances of fruitful criticism
And at the same time instances of art.
poem by Bertolt Brecht
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Harassed
Yeah yeah yeah
Well when I was a young boy
My mama told me:
"Blood's thicker than water"
That's what she told me
I don't give a damn anymore
I can't see what makes me so
I remember your criticism
I can't be an organism of your kind
Yeah (yeah), yeah, yeah
Well when I was a little older
My papa said:
"Son yours does not cry
Get your act together boy
Then get the hell out of my sight"
I don't give a damn anymore
I can't see what makes me so
I remember your criticism
I can't be an organism of your kind
Yeah (yeah), Yeah (yeah)
Your kind
Yeah (yeah), Yeah...
You watch the circles
You treat me so bad
I don't dare think it over
Yeah...(mutter)
I can't give.
I said "yeah!"
I don't give a damn anymore
I can't see what makes me so
I remember your criticism
I can't be an organism of your kind
Yeah (yeah), Yeah (yeah)
Your kind (x3)
song performed by Puddle Of Mudd
Added by Lucian Velea
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An open criticism
I hated most to be called lazy
I keep my self engaged and remain busy
It is funny and very easy
To create flutter and make it noisy
We tend to become idle and relax so much
When not seized with problems as such
It is day to day affairs and must be tackled properly
It is appreciated very much when put across wisely
It is good sign to remain always active
It is equally bad sign if you expose as reactive
People may count you as hostile and immature
It may block your chances and make you insecure
It is not right on our part to offer arguments at criticism
It is known lacuna and allowed in humanism
We simply offer advice or comments without being asked for
It simply creates distrust and situation like mini war
We must learn to sustain the criticism at any cost
It is very severe and considered as worst
Why do we employ double standard when we are at fault?
It adds to woe and agony as if wounds are filled with salt
It keeps you worried all the time for critical remarks
It generates ill will and controversy sparks
It leads to heated arguments and strain the relation
To patch up later on becomes impossible and out of question
It has become now fashion to point out the lapses
No one cares as to what should be done to avert crisis
It is easy to spoil the relation and add fuel to fire
It takes less time to appreciate and admire
Words once spoken can’t be taken back
It may develop bitterness and relation may crack
It may also cause irreparable damage
It may slip out of control to manage
I shall sand to loose in all the respects
Who will search the soul and inspect?
There is something like good humor
It is best weapon in your armor
You inflict injury and your opponent may not come to know
Nice words spoken with sweetness may try to soothe and woe
It is how we tackle and come to an understanding
It is strongest and permanent thing for bonding
[...] Read more
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Gods Favoured Me
Heat – no air-con today – realising France’s dream of
saving their coastline due to the Greenhouse effect,
went for a lunch-break stroll singing all the way,
refusing to contemplate office problems
The gods favoured me on my first day, email connection
restored, now I am so privileged to read criticism of the
work I did before leaving on holiday, I am still girdling
my loins with positive thoughts
Before tackling heartbreaking rejection of words I wrote,
New Year’s Resolution: never face today what can be
deferred to tomorrow, stop and smell the roses, I can
read nasty remarks any time
The mere fact of having an office in which to be miserable
is such a source of joy and delight, not to be spoilt with
feelings of inadequacy; why cry about the humours of
those in charge trying to convince me I am
A disaster because I cannot write the words they dictate,
cannot march to the tune they prescribe, kept in my place
by them changing their translation rules every day - I am
thankful that I can still think and feel after years
As a civil servant, I should have turned into a cyborg ages
ago, yet the incessant stream of criticism proves I am still
the same human I was at the beginning – people like me
cannot be changed into robots
No matter how much criticism is directed our way, olé!
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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