Poem of the month |
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
T.S. Eliot The Waste Land
Posted by on Thu, 03 Apr 2008 09:16:00 GMT |
[comic relief 1] |
1. A black cat crossing your path signifies that the animal is going somewhere
Groucho Marx
Posted by on Sun, 30 Mar 2008 11:58:00 GMT |
on homophobia in Greece |
even though this blog was not conceived as a platform for voicing political/social views, I cannot remain silent when I have to listen to members of the Greek Orthodox Church and members of ...
Posted by on Sun, 30 Mar 2008 04:21:00 GMT |
(and because I cannot resist)...some more theatre... |
Et ces gants! Ces eternels gants!
Posted by on Wed, 26 Mar 2008 04:16:00 GMT |
...and now, for some theatre... |
Solange: The orchestra is playing brilliantly. The door-man lifts the red velvet curtain. He bows. The Madame goes down the stairs. Her fur coat brushes against the potted plants. She gets into ...
Posted by on Wed, 26 Mar 2008 04:07:00 GMT |
R.M. Rilke says... |
The Panther
His vision, from the constantly passing bars
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.
And he ...
Posted by on Tue, 25 Mar 2008 14:56:00 GMT |
...and a new blog is formed |
check out my new blog at http://his-open-room.blogspot.com for more words and fun
Posted by on Sun, 23 Mar 2008 09:08:00 GMT |
E.A.Poe says... |
"And mine eyes fell upon the countenance of the man, and his countenance was wan with terror. And, hurriedly, he raised his head from his hand, and stood forth upon the rock and listened. But there wa...
Posted by on Sat, 22 Mar 2008 02:05:00 GMT |
James Joyce says... |
The spell of arms and voices: the white arms of roads, their promise of close embraces and the black ams of tall ships that stand against the moon, their tale of distant nations. They are held out to ...
Posted by on Sat, 22 Mar 2008 00:50:00 GMT |
William Shakespeare says... |
Or I shall live your epitaph to make,
Or you survive when I in earth am rotten;
From hence your memory death cannot take,
Although in me each part will be forgotten.
Your name from hence immortal life...
Posted by on Fri, 21 Mar 2008 01:32:00 GMT |
