The films that influenced me were so disparate that there's almost no pattern.
quote by James Cameron
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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Book IV - Part 03 - The Senses And Mental Pictures
Bodies that strike the eyes, awaking sight.
From certain things flow odours evermore,
As cold from rivers, heat from sun, and spray
From waves of ocean, eater-out of walls
Around the coasts. Nor ever cease to flit
The varied voices, sounds athrough the air.
Then too there comes into the mouth at times
The wet of a salt taste, when by the sea
We roam about; and so, whene'er we watch
The wormword being mixed, its bitter stings.
To such degree from all things is each thing
Borne streamingly along, and sent about
To every region round; and Nature grants
Nor rest nor respite of the onward flow,
Since 'tis incessantly we feeling have,
And all the time are suffered to descry
And smell all things at hand, and hear them sound.
Besides, since shape examined by our hands
Within the dark is known to be the same
As that by eyes perceived within the light
And lustrous day, both touch and sight must be
By one like cause aroused. So, if we test
A square and get its stimulus on us
Within the dark, within the light what square
Can fall upon our sight, except a square
That images the things? Wherefore it seems
The source of seeing is in images,
Nor without these can anything be viewed.
Now these same films I name are borne about
And tossed and scattered into regions all.
But since we do perceive alone through eyes,
It follows hence that whitherso we turn
Our sight, all things do strike against it there
With form and hue. And just how far from us
Each thing may be away, the image yields
To us the power to see and chance to tell:
For when 'tis sent, at once it shoves ahead
And drives along the air that's in the space
Betwixt it and our eyes. And thus this air
All glides athrough our eyeballs, and, as 'twere,
Brushes athrough our pupils and thuswise
Passes across. Therefore it comes we see
How far from us each thing may be away,
And the more air there be that's driven before,
And too the longer be the brushing breeze
Against our eyes, the farther off removed
Each thing is seen to be: forsooth, this work
With mightily swift order all goes on,
So that upon one instant we may see
[...] Read more
poem by Lucretius
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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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The films that have influenced me and the films that have motivated me and inspired me were films that resonated, films that made me think after I saw them.
quote by Eriq La Salle
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Through The Years
Through the years, I have thought of you quite often:
Your absence was ne'er a lacking that time could soften.
I had always hoped that our friendship would last forever-
With a prayer to God, I wished we would always be together.
Nothing could have prepared me for that fateful day-
What it shall mean, only our patient wait will say-
A wait for a time when you and I are both ready-
When our inspired hearts may be made to be steady,
To receive one another-wholly and completely,
When we learn to love one another unabashedly and repletely!
Through the years, I have found naught, with which to draw compare
To the beauty inherent in the depths of your soul-inspiring stare;
You need not be here, nor do I need be, there-
I may not make part with thee, nor would I dare;
Though the years without thee had numbered more than twenty,
Thoughts about thee had been beauteous, varied and plenty.
Through the years, our lives have been quite disparate-
Perhaps it was each of our hearts' way to prepare it
For the glorious resplendence that is our consort's refrain;
I could ne'er aspire to heights this lofty, nor would I deign.
Our parting was my sweetest sorrow, our re-acquaintance, its recompense:
Mine own soul hath gathered inspiration ever since!
Through the years, mine mind hath thusly wandered
To thoughts of the beauty you are, and the years that we squandered
In search of the ardor only we could, to each other, provide-
Though this too, was not left for us, to decide,
But rather parcel to His Grandiose Plan;
It was He alone that decided this separation's span.
Through the years, our disparate lives have yet been connected,
By a Power far greater than we know-He corrected
What was indeed our failure-that to our separation, we ceded;
Perhap we were just not prime, and knew not, what we needed;
It is no matter any longer, the solution hath been provided
Through the render of our ardor, our fate hath been decided:
What hath been yet revealed, is but to the whole, a pittance-
Our lives entire, offered to each as this burden's quittance!
Through the years, the Truth shall be revealed:
A beautiful amative comes to fruition, hitherto concealed!
A fanciful futurity depends upon but our own free will-
What it shall be, is to be decided still.
[...] Read more
poem by Maurice Harris
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Patterns
The night sets softly
With the hush of falling leaves,
Casting shivering shadows
On the houses through the trees,
And the light from a street lamp
Paints a pattern on my wall,
Like the pieces of a puzzle
Or a child's uneven scrawL
Up a narrow flight of stairs
In a narrow Little room,
As I lie upon my bed
In the early evening gloom.
Impaled on my wall
My eyes can dimly see
The pattern of my life
And the puzzle that is me.
>From the moment of my birth
To the instant of my death,
There are Patterns I must follow
Just as I must breathe each breath.
Like a rat in a maze
The path before me lies,
And the pattern never alters
Until the rat dies.
And the pattern still remains
On the wall where darkness fell,
And it's fitting that it should,
For in darknesss I must dwell.
Like the color of my skin,
Or the day that I grow old,
My life is made of Patterns
That can scarcely be controlled.
song performed by Paul Simon
Added by Lucian Velea
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Patterns
The night sets softly
With the hush of falling leaves
Casting shivering shadows
On the houses through the trees
And the light from a street lamp
Paints a pattern on my wall
Like the pieces of a puzzle
Or a child's uneven scrawl
Up a narrow flight of stairs
In a narrow little room
As I lie upon my bed
In the early evening gloom
Impaled on my wall
My eyes can dimly see
The pattern of my life
And the puzzle that is me
From the moment of my birth
To the instant of my death
There are patterns I must follow
Just as I must breathe each breath
Like a rat in a maze
The path before my lies
And the pattern never alters
Until the rat dies
And the pattern still remains
On the wall where darkness fell
And it's fitting that it should
For in darkness I must dwell
Like the color of my skin
Or the day that I grow old
My life is made of patterns
That can scarcely be controlled
song performed by Simon & Garfunkel
Added by Lucian Velea
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There's a pattern when tours start - a pattern of infighting, of making up, of breaking up, of addiction. There's a pattern of going to jail. There's a pattern of passion for music.
quote by Nikki Sixx
Added by Lucian Velea
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Patterns
I walk down the garden-paths,
And all the daffodils
Are blowing, and the bright blue squills.
I walk down the patterned garden-paths
In my stiff, brocaded gown.
With my powdered hair and jeweled fan,
I too am a rare
Pattern. As I wander down
The garden-paths.
My dress is richly figured,
And the train
Makes a pink and silver stain
On the gravel, and the thrift
Of the borders.
Just a plate of current fashion,
Tripping by in high-heeled, ribboned shoes.
Not a softness anywhere about me,
Only whalebone and brocade.
And I sink on a seat in the shade
Of a lime tree. For my passion
Wars against the stiff brocade.
The daffodils and squills
Flutter in the breeze
As they please.
And I weep;
For the lime-tree is in blossom
And one small flower has dropped upon my bosom.
And the plashing of waterdrops
In the marble fountain
Comes down the garden-paths.
The dripping never stops.
Underneath my stiffened gown
Is the softness of a woman bathing in a marble basin,
A basin in the midst of hedges grown
So thick, she cannot see her lover hiding,
But she guesses he is near,
And the sliding of the water
Seems the stroking of a dear
Hand upon her.
What is Summer in a fine brocaded gown!
I should like to see it lying in a heap upon the ground.
All the pink and silver crumpled up on the ground.
I would be the pink and silver as I ran along the paths,
And he would stumble after,
Bewildered by my laughter.
I should see the sun flashing from his sword-hilt and the
buckles on his shoes.
I would choose
[...] Read more
poem by Amy Lowell
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Drink Me Eat Me
the known world keeps
expanding contracting
with wondrous profusion
though potions drunk
wizard cakes eaten
are no longer necessary
when venturing through
kaleidoscopic looking glass
nor are rabbit holes needed
spy glass, magnifying glass, telescope,
microscope, radio telescope,
electron microscope, Hubble telescope,
amazing slices of perceived creation revealed,
expanding perceptions cosmic and microscopic
in a garden of rabbit hole worm hole replaced
an electron microscopic
images the sample surface
by scanning it with a high-
energy beam of electrons
in simple raster scan pattern
it’s a kind of magic?
funny how we are never
far from the garden?
A raster scan, or raster scanning?
analogy; raster graphics, pattern image storage
transmission; used in computer bitmap image
systems; raster from Latin rastrum (a rake)
seek meaning; derived from radere (to scrape)
knowledge back in the garden rake over meaning?
rake earth over seeds
seeds of embryo ideas
fertile bed scatter ideas
choice seeds will grow
the pattern left by the tines of a rake,
when drawn straight, lines of a rake,
resembles parallel lines of a raster,
line-by-line scanning creates a raster
a systematic process of covering
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Instead, there were a variety of controls of which some could be influenced by bankers, some could be influenced by the government, and some could hardly be influenced by either.
quote by Carroll Quigley
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There were a lot of people dreaming about making films, and they would finance maybe 6 films a year. Because they were funded by the government, the films sort-of had to deal with serious social issues - and, as a result, nobody went to see those films.
quote by Renny Harlin
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Some of these things I saw in foreign films - African films, Cuban films - long before I decided to really go on this course as an actor. I started to think about what values I saw in those films that I wanted to bring to my projects.
quote by Danny Glover
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Even the contemporary horror authors who have seriously influenced me are a disparate bunch.
quote by George Stephen
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Their films would probably be better if they'd seen a few more films, which runs counter to this idiotic theory that you run the risk of being influenced if you see too much.
quote by Jacques Rivette
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Mankind
You'll be
Going out with radio
Going out with disco
Going out like rock and roll
I'll be
Going out with telephone
Going out alone
To the radar zone
It's all just inadvertant imitation
And I don't mean mine
It's all across this nation
If it's just inadvertant simulation
A pattern in all mankind
What's got the whole world faking?
I'll be playing with my magazine
Using up my Listerine
Like Ovaltine
And you'll be
Dipping in your battleship
For the latest tip
For the latest dream
It's all just inadvertant imitation
And I don't mean mine
It's all across this nation
If it's just inadvertant simulation
A pattern in all mankind
What's got the whole world faking?
If it's just inadvertant imitation
A pattern in all mankind
What's got the whole world faking? (6x)
song performed by Pearl Jam from No Code
Added by Lucian Velea
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Eighth Book
ONE eve it happened when I sate alone,
Alone upon the terrace of my tower,
A book upon my knees, to counterfeit
The reading that I never read at all,
While Marian, in the garden down below,
Knelt by the fountain (I could just hear thrill
The drowsy silence of the exhausted day)
And peeled a new fig from that purple heap
In the grass beside her,–turning out the red
To feed her eager child, who sucked at it
With vehement lips across a gap of air
As he stood opposite, face and curls a-flame
With that last sun-ray, crying, 'give me, give,'
And stamping with imperious baby-feet,
(We're all born princes)–something startled me,–
The laugh of sad and innocent souls, that breaks
Abruptly, as if frightened at itself;
'Twas Marian laughed. I saw her glance above
In sudden shame that I should hear her laugh,
And straightway dropped my eyes upon my book,
And knew, the first time, 'twas Boccaccio's tales,
The Falcon's,–of the lover who for love
Destroyed the best that loved him. Some of us
Do it still, and then we sit and laugh no more.
Laugh you, sweet Marian! you've the right to laugh,
Since God himself is for you, and a child!
For me there's somewhat less,–and so, I sigh.
The heavens were making room to hold the night,
The sevenfold heavens unfolding all their gates
To let the stars out slowly (prophesied
In close-approaching advent, not discerned),
While still the cue-owls from the cypresses
Of the Poggio called and counted every pulse
Of the skyey palpitation. Gradually
The purple and transparent shadows slow
Had filled up the whole valley to the brim,
And flooded all the city, which you saw
As some drowned city in some enchanted sea,
Cut off from nature,–drawing you who gaze,
With passionate desire, to leap and plunge,
And find a sea-king with a voice of waves,
And treacherous soft eyes, and slippery locks
You cannot kiss but you shall bring away
Their salt upon your lips. The duomo-bell
Strikes ten, as if it struck ten fathoms down,
So deep; and fifty churches answer it
The same, with fifty various instances.
Some gaslights tremble along squares and streets
The Pitti's palace-front is drawn in fire:
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
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Widow McFarlane
I was the Widow McFarlane,
Weaver of carpets for all the village.
And I pity you still at the loom of life,
You who are singing to the shuttle
And lovingly watching the work of your hands,
If you reach the day of hate, of terrible truth.
For the cloth of life is woven, you know,
To a pattern hidden under the loom i
A pattern you never see!
And you weave high-hearted, singing, singing,
You guard the threads of love and friendship
For noble figures in gold and purple.
And long after other eyes can see
You have woven a moon-white strip of cloth,
You laugh in your strength, for Hope o'erlays it
With shapes of love and beauty.
The loom stops short! The pattern's out!
You're alone in the room! You have woven a shroud!
And hate of it lays you in it!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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When the first flint, the first shell, was shaped into a weapon, that action shaped man. As he molded and complicated his tools, so they molded and complicated him. He became the first scientific animal. And at last, via information theory and great computers, he gained knowledge of all his parts. He formed the Laws of Integration, which reveal all beings as part of a pattern and show them their part in the attern. There is only the pattern; the pattern is all the universe, creator and created.
quote by Brian Aldiss
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