Friendliness is…
The one who makes no friend
And retains no kin in life,
Is the toughest guy.
Friendliness is
The sign of weakness.
14.08.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Related quotes
Toughest Street In Town
Outside the window the neon flashes
In the morning light
Down on the sidewalk theres a woman with a problem
But she dont know how to fight
Shes destitute and broken down
She softly whispers is there no one around
And no one hears the sound
Her knees give way and hit the ground
This is the toughest street in town
This is the toughest street in town
This is the toughest street in town
This is the toughest
Like a rat in a pack it attacks
From the back
Through a crack in a track
And you take a smack
This jack has had a hard day
No one told him it would be like this
Hes had to score the hard way
Working on twenty hour shifts
This is the toughest street in town
This is the toughest
Its tough stuff
This is the toughest street around
This is the toughest
Dont you do down
No how
Its just another black spot
Where far too many people have died
Its just another grave yard
And theres not too many people left alive
This is the toughest
Are you tough enough
This is the toughest
Are you rough enough
This is the toughest
Can you bluff enough
Just a minor misery did me no harm
But its there to warn outside the window
The neon is still flashing in the morning light
Down on the sidewalk that woman was blown away
Out of sight
All across the city no one gives a damn
All across the city no one seems to understand
This is the toughest
This is the toughest street in town
This is the toughest street around
This is the toughest
Are you rough enough
This is the toughest
[...] Read more
song performed by Thin Lizzy
Added by Lucian Velea
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Contract In Love
written by Lamont Dozier, Janie Bradford, & Brian Holland
(c) 1962 Jobete Music Co., Inc. (ASCAP)
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign it
Sign it
Sign it
Sign it
You say you love me
And I believe it's true
But before I let myself go
Here's what you've got to do
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
You've got to sign
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
My contract on love
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
Write it in your heart
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
That you'll never do anything
To ever make us part
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
Yeah, I know it may seem strange to you
Yeah, but I've lost a love so many times before
Yeah, and now that I know the score
No one's gonna hurt me no more
And I'm takin' all my chances with romances
Yeah
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
So just sign
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
Right here on this dotted line
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
Where it says you'll be mine, all mine
(You, you, you'd better sign it)
Until the end of time
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
(Sign it)
[...] Read more
song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Contract On Love
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign my contract on love
Baby, baby, sign it
Sign it
Sign it
Sign it
You say you love me
And I believe its true
But before I let myself go
Heres what youve got to do
(sign it)
(sign it)
(sign it)
(sign it)
Youve got to sign
(you, you, youd better sign it)
My contract on love
(you, you, youd better sign it)
Write it in your heart
(you, you, youd better sign it)
That youll never do anything
To ever make us part
(sign it)
(sign it)
(sign it)
(sign it)
Yeah, I know it may seem strange to you
Yeah, but Ive lost a love so many times before
Yeah, and now that I know the score
No ones gonna hurt me no more
And Im takin all my chances with romances
Yeah
(sign it)
(sign it)
(sign it)
(sign it)
So just sign
(you, you, youd better sign it)
Right here on this dotted line
(you, you, youd better sign it)
Where it says youll be mine, all mine
(you, you, youd better sign it)
Until the end of time
(sign it)
(sign it)
(sign it)
(sign it)
So come on, come on, come on, and
Sign, yeah
[...] Read more
song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Im That Type Of Guy
Youre the type of guy that cant control your girl
You try to buy her love with diamonds and pearls
Im the type of guy that shows up on the scene
And gets the seven digits, you know the routine
Youre the type of guy that tells her, stay inside
While youre steady frontin in your homeboys ride
Im the type of guy that comes when you leave
Im doin your girlfriend, thats somethin you cant believe
Cause Im that type of guy
Youre the type of guy that gets suspicious
Im the type of guy that says, the puddin is delicious
Youre the type of guy that has no idea
That a sneaky, freaky brothers sneakin in from the rear
Im the type of guy to eat it, when he wont
And look in the places that your boyfriend dont
Youre the type of guy to try to call me a punk
Now knowin that your main girls bitin my chunk
Im the type of guy that loves a dedicated lady
Their boyfriends are borin, and I can drive em crazy
Youre the type of guy to give her money to shop
She gave me a sweater _kiss_ thank you, sweetheart
Im that type of guy
Im the type of guy that picks her up from work early
Takes her to breakfast, lunch, dinner, and breakfast
Youre the type of guy eatin a tv dinner
Talkin about... goddamn it, ima kill her
Im the type of guy to make her say, why youre illin, bee?
...youre the type of guy to say, my lower back is killin me
...catch my drift?
Youre the type of guy that likes to drink olde english
Im the type of guy to cold put on a pamper
Youre the type of guy to say, what you talkin bout?
Im the type of guy to leave my drawers in your hamper
Im that type of guy
Im that type of guy
You know what I mean?
Check it out...
T-y-p-e g-u-y
Im that type of guy to give you a pound and wink my eye
Like a bandit, caught me redhanded, took her for granted
But when I screwed her, you couldnt understand it
Cause youre the type of guy that dont know the time
Swearin up and down, that girls all mine
Im the type of guy to let you keep believin it
Go head to work, while I defrost it, and season it
Im that type of guy
Im that type of guy
Know what I mean
Im that type of guy
So ridiculous
[...] Read more
song performed by LL Cool J
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[...] Read more
poem by Caasder Fronds
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Soccer Rollback
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Average Guy
I aint no christian or no born again saint
I aint no cowboy or marxist d.a.
I aint no criminal or reverend cripple from the right
I am just your average guy, trying to do whats right
Im just your average guy
An average guy
I am just your average guy
Im just an average guy
Average guy, Im just your average guy
Im average looking and Im average inside
Im an average lover and I live in an average place
You wouldnt know me if you met me face to face
Im just your average guy
Average guy
Average guy
Im just an average guy
I worry about money and taxes and such
I worry that my livers big and it hurts to the touch
I worry about my health and bowels
And the crime waves in the street
Im really just your average guy
Trying to stand on his own two feet
Im just your average guy
Im just your average guy
Im just your average guy
Average guy
Average looks, average taste
Average height, an average waist
Average in everything I do
My temperature is 98.2
Im just your average guy
An average guy
Average guy
Im just an average guy
Average guy
Im just your average guy
Im just your average guy
Im just your average guy
Average
song performed by Lou Reed
Added by Lucian Velea
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Beowulf
LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!
Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,
from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
awing the earls. Since erst he lay
friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:
for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,
till before him the folk, both far and near,
who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,
gave him gifts: a good king he!
To him an heir was afterward born,
a son in his halls, whom heaven sent
to favor the folk, feeling their woe
that erst they had lacked an earl for leader
so long a while; the Lord endowed him,
the Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown.
Famed was this Beowulf: far flew the boast of him,
son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.
So becomes it a youth to quit him well
with his father's friends, by fee and gift,
that to aid him, aged, in after days,
come warriors willing, should war draw nigh,
liegemen loyal: by lauded deeds
shall an earl have honor in every clan.
Forth he fared at the fated moment,
sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God.
Then they bore him over to ocean's billow,
loving clansmen, as late he charged them,
while wielded words the winsome Scyld,
the leader beloved who long had ruled….
In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,
ice-flecked, outbound, atheling's barge:
there laid they down their darling lord
on the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,
by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure
fetched from far was freighted with him.
No ship have I known so nobly dight
with weapons of war and weeds of battle,
with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay
a heaped hoard that hence should go
far o'er the flood with him floating away.
No less these loaded the lordly gifts,
thanes' huge treasure, than those had done
who in former time forth had sent him
sole on the seas, a suckling child.
High o'er his head they hoist the standard,
a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,
gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,
mournful their mood. No man is able
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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ACT: Goodbye
Girl: Goodbye
I always want to say it in front of you
Goodbye
And there would be no more “I love you”
Goodbye
But why though I really meant to
The pain is still haunting my soul
Guy: Goodbye
You don’t know there’s a mystery inside
Goodbye
You are a fool to quickly decide
Goodbye
When you say something you don’t want to
It will affect you most with regret
Girl: Goodbye means leaving
Guy: Goodbye means nothing
Girl: Goodbye means releasing
Guy: Goodbye means waiting
Girl: And will you forget me after
Guy: Or will I love you forever
Girl: And how if I miss you in the lonely night
Guy: I will torture you to see my face
Girl: It’s over!
Guy: Not yet
Girl: Why are you so stubborn?
Guy: Because you make it complicated
Girl: But there’s no future for us
Guy: There’s always a hope
Girl: Goodbye
I will definitely cry
Goodbye
But the tears are not going to show
Goodbye
I don’t ask to be forgiven
Because I’m the one who put this misery
Guy: Goodbye
You can’t beat me with just that
Goodbye
Don’t judge me because I have the power of
Goodbye
Though I let my beloved go
Someday I’ll bring you to my arm again
Girl: Goodbye means separate
[...] Read more
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Pecos Bill
Now Pecos Bill was quite a cowboy down in Texas
Why, he's the Western Superman to say the least
He was the roughest, toughest critter, never known to be a quitter
'Cause he never had no fear of man nor beast
So yippee-i-ay-i-ya, yippee-i-o
He's the toughest critter west of the Alamo
Once he roped a raging cyclone out of nowhere
Then he straddled it and settled down with ease
And while that cyclone bucked and flitted, Pecos rolled a smoke and lit it
And he tamed that ornery wind down to a breeze
So yippee-i-ay-i-ya, yippee-i-o
He's the toughest critter west of the Alamo
Now once there was a drought that spread all over Texas
So to sunny Californy he did go
And though the gag is kind of corny, he brought rain from Californy
And that's the way we got the Gulf of Mexico
So yippee-i-ay-i-ya, yippee-i-o
He's the toughest critter west of the Alamo
Now once a band of rustlers stole a herd of cattle
But they didn't know the herd they stole was Bill's
And when he caught them crooked villains
Pecos knocked out all their fillings
That's the reason why there's gold them thar hills
So yippee-i-ay-i-ya, yippee-i-o
He's the toughest critter west of the Alamo
Pecos lost his way while traveling on the desert (Water, water, water...)
It was ninety miles across the burning sand (Water, water, water...)
He knew he'd never reach the border (Water...)
If he didn't get some water (Water...)
So he got a stick and dug the Rio Grande
(Yodeling)
While a tribe of painted Indians did a wardance
Pecos started shooting up their little game
He gave those redskins such a shakeup
That they jumped out of their makeup
That's how the Painted Desert got it's name
So yippee-i-ay-i-ya, yippee-i-o
He's the toughest critter west of the Alamo
While reclining on a cloud high over Texas
With his guns he made the stars evaporate
Then Pecos saw them stars declining
So he left one brightly shining
As the emblem of the Lone Star Texas State
So yippee-i-ay-i-ya, yippee-i-o
He's the toughest critter west of the Alamo
So yippee-i-ay-i-ya, yippee-i-o
He's the emblem of the Lone Star Texas State
song performed by Nickel Creek
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tale XVI
THE CONFIDANT.
Anna was young and lovely--in her eye
The glance of beauty, in her cheek the dye:
Her shape was slender, and her features small,
But graceful, easy, unaffected all:
The liveliest tints her youthful face disclosed;
There beauty sparkled, and there health reposed;
For the pure blood that flush'd that rosy cheek
Spoke what the heart forbade the tongue to speak,
And told the feelings of that heart as well,
Nay, with more candour than the tongue could tell.
Though this fair lass had with the wealthy dwelt,
Yet like the damsel of the cot she felt;
And, at the distant hint or dark surmise,
The blood into the mantling cheek would rise.
Now Anna's station frequent terrors wrought,
In one whose looks were with such meaning fraught,
For on a Lady, as an humble friend,
It was her painful office to attend.
Her duties here were of the usual kind -
And some the body harass'd, some the mind:
Billets she wrote, and tender stories read,
To make the Lady sleepy in her bed;
She play'd at whist, but with inferior skill,
And heard the summons as a call to drill;
Music was ever pleasant till she play'd
At a request that no request convey'd;
The Lady's tales with anxious looks she heard,
For she must witness what her Friend averr'd;
The Lady's taste she must in all approve,
Hate whom she hated, whom she lov'd must love;
These, with the various duties of her place,
With care she studied, and perform'd with grace:
She veil'd her troubles in a mask of ease,
And show'd her pleasure was a power to please.
Such were the damsel's duties: she was poor -
Above a servant, but with service more:
Men on her face with careless freedom gaz'd,
Nor thought how painful was the glow they raised.
A wealthy few to gain her favour tried,
But not the favour of a grateful bride;
They spoke their purpose with an easy air,
That shamed and frighten'd the dependent fair;
Past time she view'd, the passing time to cheat,
But nothing found to make the present sweet:
With pensive soul she read life's future page,
And saw dependent, poor, repining age.
But who shall dare t'assert what years may
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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Look At That Guy
Just look at that guy, He seem so happy
Look at that guy, He seem so free
Look at that guy, Just looking at me
Look at that guy, I wish I looked as good as him
Just look at that guy, Man he dress so good
Look at that guy, I bet all the girls like him
Look at that guy, How can I be more like him
Look at that guy, He's the real hero
Just look at that guy, probably thinks im a zero
Look at that guy, I hope he's not judging me
Look at that guy, being all he can be
Look at that guy, fighting for a cause
Just look at that guy, making me pause
Look at that guy, He probably thinks im stupid
Look at that guy, His friend must be cupid
Look at that guy, looking like a thug
Just look at that guy, he looks full of love
Look at that guy, He needs no correction
Look at that guy, do we have any connection
Oh my god, that guy I see Is my own reflection....
poem by Daniel Chapman
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Where There's Smoke, There's Failure
So it goes like this,
Guy meets girl.
Guy buys flowers.
Girl puts them in a vase.
Guy buys a ring.
Girl says yes.
Guy goes to work.
Girl goes to work.
Guy meets girl.
Girl meets guy.
Guy and girl fight about girl and guy.
Guy leaves work for new work and gets an apartment by himself.
Girl moves over seas and doesn't have to work any more because she has a new guy and the old guy has to send her money from his new work.
Guy writes poems.
Guy writes about new girl and old girl and new guy and work and old friends.
Guy wants to stop working and sell poems about the stuff in his life so that he can do other stuff in his life without having to go to real work.
Guy does not yet have high selling collection of poems.
Guy goes to work.
Guy meets girl.
Guy buys flowers.
poem by John W. McEwers
Added by Poetry Lover
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Such A Groovy Guy
I got my alligator boots I wear my pants skin tight
I wear my dark sunglasses in the middle of the night
And when I look in the mirror im-a such an awesome sight
It makes me wanna kneel down and pray
Im so charming and adorable Im sure that you can see
And everyones always trying to hang around with me
They tell me Im the greatest and its hard to disagree
cause Im so perfect in every way
And Im so cute I can hardly stand it
And Im so handsome honey I could just die
I know that youll never be as wonderful as me but at least you can try
cause Im such a groovy guy (such a groovy guy)
Im such a groovy guy (such a groovy guy)
Im such a groovy guy
Baby are you in the mood for a little romance?
Well for starters I can pour some chocolate pudding down your pants
And then attatch electrodes to your brain and watch you dance
Oh, golly wouldnt that be fun?
And then I might decide to tie you up with dental floss
Ill make you wear a harness and Ill show you whos the boss
Of course if you refuse, well honey its your loss
I mean I dont do this with just anyone.
So how can you say its all over?
So how can you tell me goodbye?
So now you tell me that youre leaving me for good
And all I wanna know is why
I mean after all Im really such a groovy guy (such a groovy guy)
Im such a groovy guy (such a groovy guy)
Im such a groovy guy
I mean you could do worse!
Im such a groovy guy (such a groovy guy)
Im such a groovy guy (such a groovy guy)
Such a groovy groovy guy (such a groovy guy)
Im such a groovy guy (such a groovy guy)
(to fade)
song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Guy and Amarant
Guy journeyes towards that sanctifyed ground
Whereas the Jewes fayre citye sometime stood,
Wherin our Saviours sacred head was crownd,
And where for sinfull man he shed his blood.
To see the sepulcher was his intent,
The tombe that Joseph unto Jesus lent.
With tedious miles he tyred his wearye feet,
And passed desart places full of danger;
At last with a most woefull wight did meet,
A man that unto sorrow was noe stranger.
For he had fifteen sonnes made captives all
To slavish bondage, in extremest thrall.
A gyant called Amarant detaind them,
Whom noe man durst encounter for his strength,
Who, in a castle which he held, had chaind them.
Guy questions where, and understands at length
The place not farr. - 'Lend me thy sword,' quoth hee;
'Ile lend my manhood all thy sonnes to free.'
With that he goes and lays upon the dore
Like one that sayes, I must and will come in.
The gyant never was soe rowz'd before,
For noe such knocking at his gate had bin;
Soe takes his keyes and clubb, and cometh out,
Staring with ireful countenance about.
'Sirra,' quoth hee, 'what busines hast thou heere?
Art come to feast the crowes about my walls?
Didst never heare noe ransome can him cleere
That in the compasse of my furye falls?
For making me to take a porters paines,
With this same clubb I will dash out thy braines.'
'Gyant,' quoth Guy, 'y'are quarrelsome, I see;
Choller and you seem very neere of kin;
Most dangerous at the clubb belike you bee;
I have bin better armd, though nowe goe thin.
But shew thy utmost hate, enlarge thy spight,
Keene is my weapon, and shall doe me right.'
Soe draws his sword, salutes him with the same
About the head, the shoulders, and the side,
Whilst his erected clubb doth death proclaime,
Standinge with huge Colossus' spacious stride,
Putting such vigour to his knotty beame
That like a furnace he did smoke extreame.
But on the ground he spent his strokes in vaine,
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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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
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi
Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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:
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Strength in weakness
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
A typical Pauline sophism?
A typical Pauline syllogism?
A typical Pauline casuistry?
A typical Pauline homily.
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Paul was disabled, you see
Was he blind? You ask
Was he lame? You ask
Was it a speech impediment?
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Oh! He was strong in spirit
But weak in appearance
He can’t be our leader, they said
He’s an embarrassment
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Paul said: “Yes, I am weak
But God’s strength is made perfect
In my weakness not in my strength
So up the weak and down the strong! (my words!)
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
We are all weak in some way
Weak in our words
Weak in our walk
Weak in our talk
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poem by James Hart
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VII. Pompilia
I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.
All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.
Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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