In Paris they simply stared when I spoke to them in French; I never did succeed in making those idiots understand their language.
quote by Mark Twain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
French, The Language Of Love
French, the Language of Love.
Darling, speak French to me when we make love, wicked words
I don’t understand, but have a whispering meaning of delight.
I stand before you with salutial erection, a soldier of love ready
to sacrifice myself for your subterranean pleasure.
Your wishes have to be expressed in French or the steed’s chase
will not react with proper force, It will think it’s time to go back
into the stable, hanging about, wondering what went wrong.
At the subway in Paris I was in the way of a woman who wanted
to exit, she swore at me, thinking it were words of love, I kissed
her and was arrested. But released, though when they understood
I was a foreigner, lost in the baffling ways of the French idiom.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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My woman,
My woman,
My woman is making I see Beauty,
Every little word explained to me that Image,
There is nothing easy in the world today,
Your passion is my image,
Understand that you are my woman,
My every word that spoken from your Love,
Let me understand that concept,
Every word that you spoke,
I saw that great Understanding that will make us Lover's,
Iam making my Woman see me through,
Every word that you spoke gave me food,
My emotion's came and gave I food,
I feel that your passion was deeper that any HUMAN LANGUAGE.
poem by Abdul Karim
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My woman soul,
My woman,
My woman is making I see Beauty,
Every little word explained to me that Image,
There is nothing easy in the world today,
Your passion is my image,
Understand that you are my woman,
My every word that spoken from your Love,
Let me understand that concept,
Every word that you spoke,
I saw that great Understanding that will make us Lover's,
Iam making my Woman see me through,
Every word that you spoke gave me food,
My emotion's came and gave I food,
I feel that your passion was deeper that any HUMAN LANGUAGE.
poem by Abdul Karim
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When Picasso painted in Paris, was he a Spanish or a French painter? It does not matter, he was Picasso, whatever the influences surrounding him. He simply chose Paris because it was the ideal place for him to sell his creation.
quote by Jean-Jacques Annaud
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I am a guest of the French language. My poems in French are born of my interaction with the French language, which is not the same as that of a French poet.
quote by Tahar Ben Jelloun
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Language Of Love
Excusez-moi, my pretty mademoiselle,
You are a french girl its easy to tell,
Me, I dont smoke not even a french cigarette,
But I love my pomme de terre,
And always croquette,
I am from angleterre and you are from france,
And you will honour me by having a dance.
Chorus:
Straight away!
Im getting ready for a new sensation,
Never kissed them in another nation,
Internationally Im in clover,
I was a native on the boat ride over,
Straight away!
Im getting ready for my new vocation,
I am the man who will unite the nations,
Ooh la la/how you say it/ca va-this is love,
La la la la la la la language of love.
La la la la la la la language of love.
La la la la la la la language of love.
Weve been together now for more than a day,
And I am waiting to hear what you say,
Come on, come on, I think youre telling me lies,
You are italian, I can tell by your eyes,
I love chianti and I hope youll agree,
That zefferelli makes the movies for me
Chorus repeated.
Instrumental
I try my french, latin, spanish and greek,
This is the language of love that I speak,
I never know if theyre from paris or rome,
We stop the talking when Im walking them home,
One little kiss and then heavens above,
This is the universal language of love.
Straight away!
Are you ready for a new sensation,
Im gonna kiss a girl from every nation,
(rest of chorus as before).
This is love-the language of love.
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The World Is Full Of Idiots
the world is full of idiots: the dumbest you can find
the world is full of idiots: who never use their minds
the world is full of idiots: they drool upon themselves
the world is full of idiots: bodies gathering dust like unread books upon the shelves
the world is full of idiots: just like you and me
the world is full of idiots, as dumb as they can be!
the world is full of idiots: rageing war for fossil fuels
the world is full of idiots: when it is taught those who think: are just fools...
Knowing Idiots
Sunday.
I don't eat by myself
So I leave the television on
To fill in.
The food is cold in my fingers
And warm in my throat.
A forgotten rerun;
A sorry substitute for people.
Sundays are awful days
With such a lot to think about.
I think about
Where you are
Right now.
And how you are.
I hope you're sad.
Real sad.
I hope you feel like ripping your heart out.
But mostly I wonder
Why you are.
I don't like idiots.
You shouldn't be.
Saturday.
An idiot sits in front of me.
The idiots is happy with a lump of plasticine.
See how the plasticine, see how she changes
With me.
But child, you're not the one playing with plasticine.
It's the other way 'round.
Wednesday.
Saw the idiot in totality.
The idiot was all smiles.
I knew why
But didn't understand.
Idiots are beyond me.
What the idiots knows
Only the idiot knows.
The idiot is real smart.
So I want to give up on the idiot
While I'm still alive.
But before I do
I just want to see the idiot cry
And know what it's been like
And what it feels like
To be a fool.
poem by Shikha Gupta
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Well, with the French language, which I understood and spoke, however imperfectly, and read in great quantities, at certain times, the matter I suppose was slightly different from either Latin or Greek.
quote by Robert Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nothing is more humiliating than to see idiots succeed in enterprises we have failed in.
quote by Gustave Flaubert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Detail Orientated Narrow Minded Smart Stupid Folk
Detail orientated narrow minded
Smart stupid folk follow the rules
And cannot understand anything
Beyond 2+2=4
The realm where 2+2=5
Is beyond their rational minds
They lack understanding
Holy fluffly Paradoxes
On which this universe exists
Thinking they are superior to me!
Idiots abounding
Idiots abounding
poem by Zhi Bai Peng
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The most important thing in the programming language is the name. A language will not succeed without a good name. I have recently invented a very good name and now I am looking for a suitable language.
quote by Donald Knuth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paris, Please Accept Me, As A Human Refugee
paris................
o paris................
Y paris................
the patience, eating the happiness
the pain, eating the patience
and the pain, eating the pain
I AM SICK, paris
treat me, sister
paris................
o paris................
Y paris................
exile, on my papers
restrained, ..
in my lines
so free me, paris
treat me, paris
I BELONG TO YOU, ..
sister
my home, the colours of MONET
my room, is a water flower
my air..
is the scent of FRANCE
and my refuge..
is a place by RENOIR shrine
so take me paris..
as your..
renoirian..
REFUGEE.
poem by Ahmed Khaled
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Also, they don't understand - writing is language. The use of language. The language to create image, the language to create drama. It requires a skill of learning how to use language.
quote by John Milius
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Madame Minda
i remember when i was yet so small like a
snail,
mother took me to your house where the roof leaks like a wooden
boat
and i was gazing up my eyes fixed on some stars that night like a
telescope
and mother pinched me in my arm afraid to offend your poverty like a
worm
but then i could not be stopped and i spoke so loud asking mother why are
they so poor like a
rat
and mother silenced me with her hand covering my mouth and you pretended
you did not hear anything like a
pig
you stared at me but i could not be outdone i also stared at you like a white
pegion
that was how it was Madame Minda, we started as two opposing river banks
we never reach each other like you were my broad back and i am a short
hand
that never reached your heart
i never miss you and you never change.Whatever are you i simply keep it
to myself like a
wart.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Forgotten Language
Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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The joy of living,
The joy of living,
The joy of living is restoring my soul,
This is the joy that I will increase,
Thinking that the asset is all the beauty,
You are the son of the most high,
In the world today,
I found that the heavenly is the joy of living,
Making up to my making,
This is the man that is all beautiful,
Understand that in the society,
The world is all very rough and tough,
This is the logic that I will never fail,
Come and make me understand that you are the truth,
In all that is to be done,
You gave me Authority,
That by every word you spoke,
Really meant to bless me in all my afflictions.
poem by Maxim Muyu
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Words... (I Am)
words...
fall like bombs
on the straw huts
of the soul...
the sky of silence
torn by the colors of noise!
or silent epitaphs,
that only whales understand,
or perhaps elephants...
written on the inside of the turtle's shell.
spoke into being...
or being adorned,
with the trinkets of ownership...
do we choose?
what is language then?
should we ask the trees?
perhaps the mountains will tell.
the rivers only laugh!
does it have a smell?
a taste? a touch?
does it recognize identity?
spoke into being...
are we then spoke into death?
is the veil between paper thin?
is there a veil?
perhaps the only difference
between darkness and light
is vantage point...
where we stand in the shadows!
dogs bark, cats meow...
I Am!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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In Paris With You
Don't talk to me of love. I've had an earful
And I get tearful when I've downed a drink or two.
I'm one of your talking wounded.
I'm a hostage. I'm maroonded.
But I'm in Paris with you.
Yes I'm angry at the way I've been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess I've been through.
I admit I'm on the rebound
And I don't care where are we bound.
I'm in Paris with you.
Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame,
If we skip the Champs Elysées
And remain here in this sleazy
Old hotel room
Doing this and that
To what and whom
Learning who you are,
Learning what I am.
Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris,
The little bit of Paris in our view.
There's that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And I'm in Paris with you.
Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris.
I'm in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
I'm in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
I'm in Paris with... all points south.
Am I embarrassing you?
I'm in Paris with you.
poem by James Fenton
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Love And Success
The holy man said, "If it is for love, then you will succeed,
But love knows no success
And success might forget love
Nevertheless, if it is for love you will succeed'.
Then love spoke to success, "You have many forms,
Some succeed when they climb the mountains
Some others when they surf the unknown tides,
For some it is winning over their thoughts
And for some others, it is winning over others'.
And success replied,
'It is in my indefiniteness, the mystery lies,
They define me and my course
Some are happy with me,
And few others are happy in their search'.
Love spoke again, "have you seen the face
Of the soul that chose to love,
For the success of the other
Happy as always
For they never lose their smile'.
Success replied, "I serve them,
And even happiness serves them
it is my pleasure to know you through them
and few know, I will do anything for you.
poem by Rema Santosh
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