There was a sculptured form; the feet were placed Upon a finely-carved rose wreath; the arms Were raised to Heaven, as if to clasp the stars EULALIA leant beside; 'twas hard to say Which was the actual marble: when she spoke, You started, scarce it seem'd a human sound; But the eyes' lustre told life linger'd still; And now the moonlight seem'd to fill their depths.
Letitia Elizabeth LandonRelated topics
arms beside clasp feet fill form hard heaven human lean life lustre now rose say sound spoke tell stars eyesRelated quotes
Zeus had loved his old friend, and lifted him up, and set him among the stars as the constellation Sagittarius. Here, in the Zodiac, now above, now below the horizon, he assists in the regulation of our destinies, though in this latter time few living mortals cast their eyes respectfully toward Heaven, and fewer still sit as students to the stars.
John Updike
Goodbye England's rose,
May you ever grow in our hearts.
You were the grace that placed itself
Where lives were torn apart.You called out to our country,
And you whispered to those in pain.
Now you belong to Heaven,
And the stars spell out your name.And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind,
Never fading with the sunset,
When the rain set in.
Elton John
That sound in tune to you? ... Sounds sharp to me. Sounds like I'm playing sharp all the time. My singing teacher told us you should do that. Maybe I got it from her. She said singers when they grow old have a tendency to go flat. So if you sing sharp as a young person, as you get older and go flat, you'll be in tune. In other words, it's never thought good to be flat. It means you can't get to the tone.
Charles Mingus
Now you hung with me when all the others turned away turned up their nose.
We liked the same music, we liked the same bands, we liked the same clothes.
We told each other that we were the wildest, the wildest things we'd ever seen.
Now I wished you would have told me, I wished I could have talked to you.
Just to say goodbye Bobby Jean.
Bruce Springsteen
When panting sighs the bosom fill,
And hands by chance united thrill
At once with one delicious pain
The pulses and the nerves of twain;
When eyes that erst could meet with ease,
Do seek, yet, seeking, shyly shun
Ecstatic conscious unison,-
The sure beginnings, say, be these
Prelusive to the strain of love
Which angels sing in heaven above?
Arthur Hugh Clough
