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Ballet is sort of a mystery to me. And I don't want to unravel that mystery.

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Shes A Mystery To Me

Darkness falls and she
Will take me by the hand
Take me to some twilight land
Where all but love is gray
Where I can find my way
Without her as my guide
Night falls, Im cast beneath her spell
Daylight falls, our heaven turns to hell
Am I left to burn
And burn eternally
Shes a mystery to me
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
In the night of love
Words tangled in her hair
Words soon to disappear
A love so sharp it cut
Like a switchblade to my heart
Words tearing me apart
She tears again my bleeding heart
I want to run, shes pulling me apart
Fallen angel cries
Then I just melt away
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Haunted by her side
Its a darkness in her eyes
That so enslaves me
And if my love is blind
Then I dont want to see
Shes a mystery to me
Night falls, Im cast beneath her spell
Daylight comes, our heaven turns to hell
Am I left to burn
And burn eternally
Shes a mystery to me
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes...a mystery girl
Mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes...a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl

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Old Spookses' Pass

I.
WE'D camped that night on Yaller Bull Flat,--
Thar was Possum Billy, an' Tom, an' me.
Right smart at throwin' a lariat
Was them two fellers, as ever I see;
An' for ridin' a broncho, or argyin' squar
With the devil roll'd up in the hide of a mule,
Them two fellers that camp'd with me thar
Would hev made an' or'nary feller a fool.
II.
Fur argyfyin' in any way,
Thet hed to be argy'd with sinew an' bone,
I never see'd fellers could argy like them;
But just right har I will hev to own
Thet whar brains come in in the game of life,
They held the poorest keerds in the lot;
An' when hands was shown, some other chap
Rak'd in the hull of the blamed old pot!
III.
We was short of hands, the herd was large,
An' watch an' watch we divided the night;
We could hear the coyotes howl an' whine,
But the darned critters kept out of sight
Of the camp-fire blazin'; an' now an' then
Thar cum a rustle an' sort of rush--
A rattle a-sneakin' away from the blaze,
Thro' the rattlin', cracklin' grey sage bush.
IV.
We'd chanc'd that night on a pootyish lot,
With a tol'ble show of tall, sweet grass--
We was takin' Speredo's drove across
The Rockies, by way of "Old Spookses' Pass"--
An' a mite of a creek went crinklin' down,
Like a "pocket" bust in the rocks overhead,
Consid'able shrunk, by the summer drought,
To a silver streak in its gravelly bed.
V.
'Twas a fairish spot fur to camp a' night;
An' chipper I felt, tho' sort of skeer'd
That them two cowboys with only me,
Couldn't boss three thousand head of a herd.
I took the fust of the watch myself;
An' as the red sun down the mountains sprang,
I roll'd a fresh quid, an' got on the back
Of my peart leetle chunk of a tough mustang.
VI.
An' Possum Billy was sleepin' sound
Es only a cowboy knows how to sleep;
An' Tommy's snores would hev made a old
Buffalo bull feel kind o' cheap.

[...] Read more

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Magical Mystery Tour

(LennonMcCartney)
[Roll up! Roll up for the magical mystery tour!
Step right this way!]
Roll up, roll up for the mystery tour
Roll up, roll up for the mystery tour
Roll up (And that's an invitation), roll up for the mystery tour
Roll up (To make a reservation), roll up for the mystery tour
The magical mystery tour is waiting to take you away
Waiting to take you away
Roll up, roll up for the mystery tour
Roll up, roll up for the mystery tour
Roll up (We've got everything you need), roll up for the mystery tour
Roll up (Satisfaction guaranteed), roll up for the mystery tour
The magical mystery tour is hoping to take you away
Hoping to take you away
Mystery trip
Aaaah... the magical mystery tour
Roll up, roll up for the mystery tour
Roll up (And that's an invitation), roll up for the mystery tour
Roll up (To make a reservation), roll up for the mystery tour
The magical mystery tour is coming to take you away
Coming to take you away
The magical mystery tour is dying to take you away
Dying to take you away, take you today

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Byron

Canto the First

I
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one;
Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,
I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—
We all have seen him, in the pantomime,
Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time.

II
Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke,
Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,
Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,
And fill'd their sign posts then, like Wellesley now;
Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk,
Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of that sow:
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier
Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.

III
Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette,
Were French, and famous people, as we know:
And there were others, scarce forgotten yet,
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,
With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,
But not at all adapted to my rhymes.

IV
Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,
And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd;
There's no more to be said of Trafalgar,
'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd;
Because the army's grown more popular,
At which the naval people are concern'd;
Besides, the prince is all for the land-service,
Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.

V
Brave men were living before Agamemnon
And since, exceeding valorous and sage,
A good deal like him too, though quite the same none;
But then they shone not on the poet's page,
And so have been forgotten:—I condemn none,
But can't find any in the present age
Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one);
So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.

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Magical Mystery Tour

Roll up.
Roll up for the Mystery Tour.
Roll up.
Roll up for the Mystery Tour.

Roll up.
And that's an invitation.
Roll up for the Mystery Tour.
Roll up.
To make a reservation.
Roll up for the Mystery Tour.

The Magical Mystery Tour
Is waiting to take you away.
Waiting to take you away.

Roll up.
Roll up for the Mystery Tour.
Roll up.
Roll up for the Mystery Tour.

Roll up.
We got everything you need.
Roll up for the Mystery Tour.
Roll up.
Satisfaction guaranteed.
Roll up for the Mystery Tour.

The Magical Mystery Tour
Is hoping to take you away.
Hoping to take you away.

(Mystery Tour..)
Ah.. The Magical Mystery Tour.
Roll up.
Roll up for the Mystery Tour.

Roll up.
And that's an invitation.
Roll up for the Mystery Tour.
Roll up.
To make a reservation.
Roll up for the Mystery Tour.

The Magical Mystery Tour
Is coming to take you away.
Coming to take you away.

The Magical Mystery Tour
Is dying to take you away.

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Magical Mystery Tour

Roll up, roll up, roll up, roll up
Roll up
Roll up, roll up, roll up, roll up
(Roll up) I've got an invitation
(Roll up for the mystery tour)
(Roll up) To make a reservation
(Roll up for the mystery tour)
(Roll up) They got everything you need
(Roll up for the mystery tour)
(Roll up) Satisfaction guaranteed
(Roll up for the mystery tour)
The magical mystery tour
Is waiting to take you away
Waiting to take you away
(Roll up) Iave got an invitation
(Roll up for the mystery tour)
(Roll up) To make a reservation
(Roll up for the mystery tour)
(Roll up) I got everything you need
(Roll up for the mystery tour)
(Roll up) Satisfaction guaranteed
(Roll up for the mystery tour)
The magical mystery tour
Is hoping to take you away
Hoping to take you away
We're taking a trip
A mystery tour
We're taking a trip
(Oh) The magical mystery tour
(Roll up)
(Roll up for the mystery tour)
(Roll up) I've got an invitation
(Roll up for the mystery tour)
(Roll up) To make a reservation
(Roll up for the mystery tour)
The magical mystery tour
Is coming to take you away
Coming to take you away
The magical mystery tour
Is dying to take you away
Dying to take you away
Take you today

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Old Spense

You've seen his place, I reckon, friend?
'Twas rather kind ov tryin'.
The way he made the dollars fly,
Such gimcrack things a-buyin'--
He spent a big share ov a fortin'
On pesky things that went a snortin'

And hollerin' over all the fields,
And ploughin' ev'ry furrow;
We sort ov felt discouraged, for
Spense wusn't one to borrow;
An' wus--the old chap wouldn't lend
A cent's wuth to his dearest friend!

Good land! the neighbours seed to wunst
Them snortin', screamin' notions
Wus jest enough tew drown the yearth
In wrath, like roarin' oceans,
'An' guess'd the Lord would give old Spense
Blue fits for fightin' Pruvidence!'

Spense wus thet harden'd; when the yearth
Wus like a bak'd pertater;
Instead ov prayin' hard fur rain,
He fetched an irrigator.
'The wicked flourish like green bays!'
Sed folks for comfort in them days.

I will allow his place was grand
With not a stump upon it,
The loam wus jest as rich an' black
Es school ma'am's velvet bunnit;
But tho' he flourish'd, folks all know'd
What spiritooal ear-marks he show'd.

Spense had a notion in his mind,
Ef some poor human grapples
With pesky worms thet eat his vines,
An' spile his summer apples,
It don't seem enny kind ov sense
Tew call that 'cheekin' Pruvidence!'

An' ef a chap on Sabbath sees
A thunder cloud a-strayin'
Above his fresh cut clover an'
Gets down tew steddy prayin',
An' tries tew shew the Lord's mistake,
Instead ov tacklin' tew his rake,

He ain't got enny kind ov show

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Mystery Girl

Darkness falls and she will take me by the hand
Take me to some twilight land
Where all but love is grey
Where time just slips away
Without her as my guide
Night falls Im cast beneath here spell
Daylight comes our heavens torn to hell
Am I left to burn
And burn eternally
Shes a mystery to me
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
In the night of love words tangled in her hair
Words soon to disappear
A love so sharp it cuts like a switchblade to my heart
Words tearing me apart
She tears again my bleeding heart
I want to run shes pulling me apart
Fallen angel cries
Then I just melt away
Shes a mystery to me
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Haunted by her side the darkness in her eyes
But that so enslaves me
If my love is blind then I dont want to see
Shes a mystery to me
Night falls Im cast beneath her spell
Daylight comes our heavens torn to hell
Am I left to burn
And burn eternally
Shes a mystery to me
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl

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Shes A Mystery To Me

(david evans, paul hewson)
Darkness falls & she will take me by the hand
Take me to some twilight land
Where all but love is grey
Where time just slips away
Without her as my guide
Night falls Im cast beneath her spell
Daylight comes our heavens torn to hell
Am I left to burn
And burn eternally
Shes a mystery to me
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
In the night of love words tangled in her hair
Words soon to disappear
A love so sharp it cuts like switchblade to my heart
Words tearing me apart
She tears again my bleeding heart
I want to run shes pulling me apart
Fallen angel cries
Then I just melt away
Shes a mystery to me
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Haunted by her side the darkness in her eyes
But that so enslaves me
If my love is blind then I dont want to see
Shes a mystery to me
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl
Shes a mystery girl

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Mystery Boy

Ooh mystery boy
Ooh mystery boy
Its too sad to point the finger
I told the boy to look at me
But what you say it never lingers
Its not what you say, but what you see
Boy look at me
I couldnt look no better see
Ooh mystery boy
Ooh mystery boy
Its too sad that love would sting you
You told the girl that it would be
A kind of love thats deep within you
A boys a boy, but did they say hed be
For eternity?
Or just a mystery
Ooh mystery boy
Ooh mystery boy
Ooh mystery boy
Ooh mystery boy
Mystery boy
Ooh
Ooh
Mystery mystery mystery boy
Its too sad to point the finger
I told the boy to look at me
Its too sad that love might sting you
You told the girl that it would be
Some kind of love thats deep within you
Some dream thats hard to see
Mystery boy

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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!

Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!

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Mysteries Revealed

Mysteries that men have heard, are revealed in God’s Word.
What were once mysteries, have been revealed for all to see.
The mystery of Jesus Christ, who’s the very Author of all life.
A mystery of purpose in Christ, how in Him we have New Life.
Another mystery of Jesus Christ, is how we gain Eternal Life.

There’s the mystery of Israel, and how they fit into God’s will.
Israel is hardened for awhile, so God can include the Gentile.
God didn’t forget the nation; they’re included in His Salvation.
By redemption in God’s Son, Jew and Gentile become one.
The mystery of The Gospel, and how in Christ it was fulfilled.

And the mystery of The Church; those in Christ by New Birth.
My Friend, not to be remiss, there’s the mystery of Godliness.
The mystery of His Revelation; an unveiling of God’s Salvation.
The mystery of end times friend; what God shall do in the end.
The mystery of hope in Glory; the purpose of the Gospel story.

Behold, I show you a mystery, one that every eye shall see.
Christians will not all see death, but be changed in a breath,
In the twinkling of an eye, they will see Christ, but will not die.
While men left upon the earth, will not see men of New Birth,
For only those men born again, shall be raptured in the end.

All the mysteries of past sages, are fulfilled in the Rock of Ages.
God spoke in prophets of old, in Christ fulfilled mysteries untold.
Christ’s Revelation revealed to all, redemption from Adam’s fall.
Christ revealed His Salvation, to every Jew and Gentile nation.
If you accept Christ as Lord, the mystery is a mystery no more.

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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

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Ballet For A Rainy Day

Orange and lemon
Raincoats roll and tumble
Together, just liked fruit tipped from a tray
Pineapple wet heads
Watch new hairdos crumble
As scenery sunlight shifts away
Ballet for a rainy day
Silent film of melting miracle play
Apples and cherries
Are varnished in water
Despite, striped awnings bright dismay
I push my paintbrush
To conjure a new world
While this one is slowly washed away
Ballet for a rainy day
Silent film of melting miracle play
Dancing out there through my window
To the backdrop of a slow descending grey
When it rains it rains
All the colors in my paintbox
When it rains it rains
Tickets for the front row seats
Up on the rooftops
Orange and lemon
Raincoats roll and tumble
Apples and cherries
Together, dropped in diamond disarray
Ballet for a rainy day
Silent film of melting miracle play
Dancing out there through my window
Behind the curtain silver falling
Ballet for a rainy day
Silent film of melting miracle play
Dancing out there through my window
To the backdrop of a slow descending grey

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IV. Tertium Quid

True, Excellency—as his Highness says,
Though she's not dead yet, she's as good as stretched
Symmetrical beside the other two;
Though he's not judged yet, he's the same as judged,
So do the facts abound and superabound:
And nothing hinders that we lift the case
Out of the shade into the shine, allow
Qualified persons to pronounce at last,
Nay, edge in an authoritative word
Between this rabble's-brabble of dolts and fools
Who make up reasonless unreasoning Rome.
"Now for the Trial!" they roar: "the Trial to test
"The truth, weigh husband and weigh wife alike
"I' the scales of law, make one scale kick the beam!"
Law's a machine from which, to please the mob,
Truth the divinity must needs descend
And clear things at the play's fifth act—aha!
Hammer into their noddles who was who
And what was what. I tell the simpletons
"Could law be competent to such a feat
"'T were done already: what begins next week
"Is end o' the Trial, last link of a chain
"Whereof the first was forged three years ago
"When law addressed herself to set wrong right,
"And proved so slow in taking the first step
"That ever some new grievance,—tort, retort,
"On one or the other side,—o'ertook i' the game,
"Retarded sentence, till this deed of death
"Is thrown in, as it were, last bale to boat
"Crammed to the edge with cargo—or passengers?
"'Trecentos inseris: ohe, jam satis est!
"'Huc appelle!'—passengers, the word must be."
Long since, the boat was loaded to my eyes.
To hear the rabble and brabble, you'd call the case
Fused and confused past human finding out.
One calls the square round, t' other the round square—
And pardonably in that first surprise
O' the blood that fell and splashed the diagram:
But now we've used our eyes to the violent hue
Can't we look through the crimson and trace lines?
It makes a man despair of history,
Eusebius and the established fact—fig's end!
Oh, give the fools their Trial, rattle away
With the leash of lawyers, two on either side—
One barks, one bites,—Masters Arcangeli
And Spreti,—that's the husband's ultimate hope
Against the Fisc and the other kind of Fisc,
Bound to do barking for the wife: bow—wow!
Why, Excellency, we and his Highness here
Would settle the matter as sufficiently

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Byron

Canto the Second

I
Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,
I pray ye flog them upon all occasions,
It mends their morals, never mind the pain:
The best of mothers and of educations
In Juan's case were but employ'd in vain,
Since, in a way that's rather of the oddest, he
Became divested of his native modesty.

II
Had he but been placed at a public school,
In the third form, or even in the fourth,
His daily task had kept his fancy cool,
At least, had he been nurtured in the north;
Spain may prove an exception to the rule,
But then exceptions always prove its worth -—
A lad of sixteen causing a divorce
Puzzled his tutors very much, of course.

III
I can't say that it puzzles me at all,
If all things be consider'd: first, there was
His lady-mother, mathematical,
A—never mind; his tutor, an old ass;
A pretty woman (that's quite natural,
Or else the thing had hardly come to pass);
A husband rather old, not much in unity
With his young wife—a time, and opportunity.

IV
Well—well, the world must turn upon its axis,
And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails,
And live and die, make love and pay our taxes,
And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails;
The king commands us, and the doctor quacks us,
The priest instructs, and so our life exhales,
A little breath, love, wine, ambition, fame,
Fighting, devotion, dust,—perhaps a name.

V
I said that Juan had been sent to Cadiz -—
A pretty town, I recollect it well -—
'T is there the mart of the colonial trade is
(Or was, before Peru learn'd to rebel),
And such sweet girls—I mean, such graceful ladies,
Their very walk would make your bosom swell;
I can't describe it, though so much it strike,
Nor liken it—I never saw the like:

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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 from The Ring and the BookReport problemRelated quotes
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The Mystery Of The Mystery

There are so many things that I dont understand
And I search my mind to try to find an answer
But the more I search the less I seem to find out why
Like where where the wind goes, how does life begin
What happens when we die
The mystery of the mystery must stay unknown
Only God can know and man must not see
Great minds have tried but they will not find
The answer to the mystery of the mystery
Man will seek the mystic rails of the mystery
But their silent halls reveal not a sound
Many men will give their lives just to try to find
The answer to a mystery in their mind
The mystery of the mystery must stay unknown
Only God can know and man must not see
Great minds have tried but they will not find
The answer to the mystery of the mystery

song performed by Dolly PartonReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sucker For Mystery

And Ive always been a sucker for mystery
And Ive always been a sucker for mystery
And Ive always been a sucker for mystery
And Ive always been a sucker for mystery
So I turn to the left and I turn to the right
But none of the answers are in sight
So I made a mistake maybe once or twice
And I cant even get to paradise
And a priest came up to me and touched my face
He said terrible things happen round this place
Such terrible things happen round this place
Such terrible things happen round this place
No demon, no man has got a clue
But surely son, the end will turn out right for you
cause Ive always been a sucker for mystery
And Ive always been a sucker for mystery
Theres a little boy walking up the stairs
Through a dark hallway that leads nowhere
He comes to a door but hes afraid to knock
And he bends down low and peers throught the lock
And theres a tall man standing with a glistening knife
And hes stooping over something that has no life
With stifled tears he starts to turn away
But a strange little voice seems to whisper
Stay!
Hes always been a sucker for mystery
And hes always been...
(chorus)
I dont want to say good bye
I want to give it one more try
I dont want to say good bye
I want to give it one more try
Wont somebody help
Wont somebody help
Im all alone now with nothing to do
And Im all dressed up with nowhere to go
And Im stuck with two tickets to an awful show
And my mouths full of words but Ive got nothing to say
And Ive been sitting in front of the tv set all day
And my heads in a vice and it wont let up
And my feet wont move and if that aint enough
The telephone rings... hello!
Ive seen children with such angry faces
When you look in their eyes, it makes you want to cry
Theres a time and a place for everything
Theres a time and a place for everything
Now it doesnt seem fair
But who cares theyre someone elses
As long as they dont come close to mine
Theres a time and a place for everything

[...] Read more

song performed by Oingo BoingoReport problemRelated quotes
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Segments Of A Circle

The stained-glass sky flounces and shatters
As the wonder of the night scintillates
Upon the sleeping skin of a promenade
In the circlet roads of a silent ballet

Light perched foots steps trample upon
The maladroit blotches of the porch lights
And beneath the maw of the waxing moon
Was the silhouette of a gaudy woman

She would always be the same woman
In her sapid vagueness, no peculiarities
No sobriquets, no facades, no niceties;
A plummeting ballet herself

She is always in the equipoise of my eyelids
At the beginning and end of rainy days
Quaffing the gray sketches of the atmosphere
Riding the blue winds of tranquilized euphoria

She is always out there like the chirps of a sparrow
Whenever the moon laze in her eiderdown couch
She would be leaning effulgently to kiss the stars
That incinerates with her enigma

Sometimes she would be tender like a conch's whisper
A surging lullaby standing by the bedpost
Crooning in the veranda and the breaking tides
In harmony with the sirens' song

Sometimes she would be a nightmare
A phantom crumpling every reverie
A pristine picture clawed by dementia
Pinned into the frangible ceiling

The nostalgia slumbering in her brittle bones,
The wonder combing her coal tresses,
And the buoyant nights in her screaming palms
Sometimes, I think I know this woman

Before the sun rise and set in the roof beams
I do try to cipher her riddling phantasm
A void silhouette with a potent effect
A salient ballet injured in a pirouette

Time after time, a voice behind the blear
Would wake me from this saccharine dream
Before the steely teeth of veracity would notch
And spray the poison in a treacle cup

[...] Read more

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