The angels are so enamoured of the language that is spoken in heaven, that they will not distort their lips with the hissing and unmusical dialects of men, but speak their own, whether there be any who understand it or not.
quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
yes, what if God does not speak english at all?
you were not born yesterday
and probably heard it before
that if your God does not speak english
then he must not be God
of course, something arrogant
hangs in the air
of this effortless superiority that
'englishers'
'english-plongplangs'
clai m, which, of course, we
always oppose and dub
as prettry dumb silly
but anyhow, yes, we are asked again
what if?
what if, this God, does not really speak English?
well, of course, he is still God
and he must not have considered the english language
that important
and i agree, even if i speak it,
i still have this language
of my soul,
albeit, in english, for you,
who does not speak my own language,
yes, of course, for you to perhaps
understand,
but i like it though, this thought
that God does not speak
the english language, lest, he may sound
so englishly, oh well,
arrogant.....
dear God
do you really...not speak english?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Heaven I Need A Hug
Heaven send one of your Angels down from above,
To show me which way to go, and shower me with their love,
Heaven send one of your Angels because their help is needed,
so I can fight this battle, without being defeated,
Heaven send one of your Angels to carry me in their arms, to keep me away from all saddness and Satans harm,
Heaven send one of your Angels to wipe my tears away,
Because I cry everyday,
Heaven send one of your Angels down from above,
Because Heaven, I really need a Hug.
poem by Nahjee' Wes
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Sword Spoke
The embowered sword spoke,
The sword made words out to the audience;
With parched lips, the spoken language
Then affected us in a way known to mankind
As nerves of a stripling, the acts of ever.
Some of us die,
Some add the dice and throw.
Lips smack and search for lips,
They lighten the load off the backs,
Understanding them in terms of profit,
Seeing just so hard.
Upheavals of language reply to sound,
Hearing us well and clearly,
Killing and keeping the striplings.
The young strove to the touch of lessons,
Yes, in a Sunday they dined.
poem by Naveed Akram
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In the spirit of Rumi - 43 - The Poet
And they often said,
‘O poet, as you call yourself –
why are all your verses
to your divine Beloved, full
of ‘as’ and ‘like’? ’ –
‘Her lips are like red rubies, or as strawberries’…
‘Her neck, as slender as that of a running young gazelle’…
‘Her smile is like sun after rain’…
‘Why do you tempt us with these earthly things? ’
The poet said
‘Like’ and ‘as’ are the keys to heaven, no less:
there is no language spoken yet by men
equal to the language of Her presence –
my truest poetry is spoken in the moment when
I look upon her beauty, but stunned to silence –
but how then to praise her, tell of her
to those who never saw her beauty yet? …
and so, I take those things most familiar,
most dear to the senses of all mortal men,
saying, is this not beautiful? And yet, beyond all this
her beauty, which yet comprehends all sense,
all mind, all spirit, all love, all lovers, is her love…
and even when I do not say those words,
but, silent, let an image come of her:
‘A gazelle ran wide-eyed through my dream; and I awoke
with the taste of strawberries on my lips…’
then, I know myself to be blest by her,
and yet, the image but a teasing veil;
this is her immortal gift to poets –
to know their mortal failure, yet
to sing to men: I saw her but in passing…yet…
now, I am possessed of her, and sworn
the Beloved’s servant all my loving life…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Aint Nothing But Love
[verse 1]
Shoulda know, when I looked into those eyes that, I was going to be free
From the bondage of those who never loved me
And I shoulda know, when he simply touched my hand, he would understand
All of my wants and all of my needs
You were sent alone to love me
[hook]
Aint nothing but love (that what it is)
And it gets sweeter and sweeter
Like heaven on earth
Wont you just give me more and more
[verse 2]
You love me baby winter, spring, summer and fall
And its like Im blinded
I see no one but you at all
Just the sound of your voices give me
Chills up my spine ya ooo it thrill me when
You love me all night
Your lips speak to me in a language I never knew ooo, but oh how
I understand your heart
When it feels the love from you
[hook]
song performed by by Vivian Green
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We need spies that look like their targets, CIA officers who speak the dialects terrorists use, and FBI agents who can speak to Muslim women who might be intimidated by men.
quote by Jane Harman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Great art speaks a language which every intelligent person can understand. The people who call themselves modernists today speak a different language.
quote by Marshall McLuhan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Language from Womb to Tomb
It is heard from mother's womb,
taught and learned through the days
and years; repeated, remembered,
quoted, mimicked, twisted,
spoken to bless and to curse.
It is to make one
come across the border lines
It is to feel a part of the whole
It is to understand and be understood.
It is seed that grows through the years
It is a pen that records the scars and stars
It is present in the years of our life
the years lost and gone
and the years to come.
It is language
from mother's womb
to our own tomb
It is language of jubilation,
of judgment and adoration
It is law and order
It is history-
document and monument.
It is victory and defeat.
It is the language of love
It is the language of hate.
It is the language of life
and the language of death.
_____________
May 7,2010
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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The Show...
in this Act, of this Scene
you are not the Actor, you are
the Spectator,
they will use the language that
you do not understand
it is not the first time that
they do this,
neither is it the first time that
you will hear them,
they have been here for so many
years, but you were then so busy
and you speak the language
of the restless, and the
fenced,
the world of cubicles
they do not demand much from you
they understand and they
ask that you must try to understand too
there is no effort
there must be no effort at all
just sit there and relax
in here
they start with the reverse
they start with the Ending
and there is No Beginning
when the Curtains fall and
when the other Spectators clap
when their eyes close
and when there hands are put
crossing their breasts
then the Show begins to unfold
and then Everyone will be
lost.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How I love your Voice
How I love to hear you speak and call my name
The way your lips, tongue, and mouth forms letters and words
Those sensual overtones that utter sweet sounds that resonate in my ears
How I love to hear you speak
Your articulation brings forth joy and laughter to my soul
Your words are like music set to a melody sang by angels
It is like the birds summoning me to paradise
Your subtle amplitude drives me while at ever utterance
I beg you to continue speaking to me for I have never heard a sweeter tone
Your audible vibrations are like a musical instrument playing lullabies to my soul
Your voice reminds me of being a child being rocked to sleep
Speak to me in those warm tones of elegance that only you possess
How I love to here your voice in all its magnitude
It comforts me on my lonely days of inner reflection
It brings me hope for a greater day
When I hear you regulate the tones I am in a trance
I am captivated by every sentence you speak
I listen to your words intently at its rhythm
It warms me on a cold day and cools me off in the heat
How I love just to hear you speak to me
I would give it all away just to hear your words
Such satisfying sounds swings me back and forth in a dizzy dance
I lose my footing every time you speak
It is not just your words but the beauty within that captivates me so
I save all your messages to hear plaid over and over again
They are melodious songs that bring forth the light of a new day
They are enchanting as you are in life
No words spoken could explain the grace and charm of your voice
Each time you speak I have died a thousand times
With each word I am sent heaven bound
Your voice takes me places only imagined in dreams
Paradise once lost is found in your voice
Let it be known that there is no other like you
I am compelled to a higher ground
Your expressions are like the wind in my sails that sets me free
I cannot place no other above you
Your voice is all I ever need to hear in life
Your ability to speak brings shivers up and down my spine
It has the greatest influence over my body
If I should ever fall and stricken deaf, your voice would remain reverberating in my heart
It would be the last sounds I would want to hear
Your name would be the last sound spoken from my lips
Your voice, how I love it so
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Who's To Blame
Oh Mother Ghana; Mother Ghana
What has happened to you?
What has happened to your culture?
They say we've fold arms against 'Vernacular' language
Instead opened arms wide to 'English' language
Oh Mother Ghana Mother Ghana
Why?
At school, we are taught the things we do not know
By the 'English' language
Why not 'Vernacular' language?
Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana
Where is your true identity as pure African?
Where is your pride as true Ghanaian?
Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana,
Day after day
When we put on the uniform as students
We are forbidden to speak 'Vernacular' language
Instead the 'English' language
Why Mother Ghana, why Mother Ghana?
When we speak 'Vernacular' language; your culture,
They say: 'Speak English' someone's culture!
When we speak 'English' that someone's culture
They say: 'Abrofosem; speak vernacular language' your culture!
Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana
Who's to blame?
'English or Vernacular language'
Oh Mother Ghana; Oh Mother Ghana.
poem by Francis Julian Zewu
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Heaven
(per andreasson/ pernilla emme)
Producer for bonnie: jimmy smyth
Here where we live
There's peace in this winter night
Pain has forever gone away
Oceans and winds are calm
And the stars so bright
Come and stay beside me
Come and be my friend
Heaven has opened it's arms above our heads
Heaven let sunshine upon our road
Heaven let love be the guide along the way
Let the angels say hello...
Far from the city lights
By an open fire
Come let's start again
Start all over again...
Heaven has opened it's arms above our heads
Heaven let sunshine upon our road
Heaven let love be the guide along the way
Let the angels say hello...
Heaven has opened it's arms above our heads
Heaven let sunshine upon our road
Heaven let love be the guide along the way
Let the angels say hello...
Heaven has opened it's arms above our heads
Heaven let sunshine upon our road
Heaven let love be the guide along the way
Let the angels say hello...
Let the angels say hello... heaven...heaven...
song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To that class we may leave it to refine the vernacular dialects of the country, to enrich those dialects with terms of science borrowed from the Western nomenclature, and to render them by degrees fit vehicles for conveying knowledge to the great mass of the population.
quote by Thomas B. Macaulay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Roses
roses speaks of love in a languege known only too the heart.Colour speak of beauty in a language known only too the rainbow.Beauty speak of sunshine in a language only known too nature.My heart speak of you in a language only known too my love.
poem by Tijani Adebowale Destiny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Overnight Angels
(ian hunter)
In the heat of the indian summer
Out along the appalachian way
You can hear the sound of the overnight angels
As they pray
Charged by the light of some mariners lantern
Spitting out a cold but triangular spray
Cant you hear the screams of the overnight angels
As they play
Talking to the spirits through a silver curtain
Reaching out beyond the length of the light
You can catch a glimpse of an overnight angel
As he shines
Dancing through the toys of the dead and the living
Laughing at the poets changing their rhymes
Cant you feel the pulse of the overnight angels
Beating time
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels angels angels
Children of the junkies led the revolution
Push yourselves over get yourselves there
Someone throw their arms round the overnight angels
Cause they care
Angels dont need no phony religion
Throw them out along with the ethnic nowheres
They will never speak to the overnight angels
They can only stare
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels angels angels angels
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels angels angels angels
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels angels angels angels
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels angels angels angels
Angels angels angels angels
Angels angels angels angels
Angels angels angels angels
Overnight angels
Overnight angels
Talking about
The overnight angels
(fade)
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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They Don't Understand
They don't understand
No
They say we're just playing games
That it isn't real
But it's what we feel
(Oh yeah)
And they say it doesn't make sense
That we're just wasting time
And they wonder why
(Yeah)
You know we got our own special language
That only we can speak
And parents never know just what it means
(Oh no)
They don't understand
How we communicate
Or so many things
That we do and say
They don't really get what it's all about
No they never can understand
Pokemon
I can't explain
If they don't know why
You see it's everywhere
Well
song performed by by Dream Street from Dream Street
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Language Of Love
I want your flesh and blood
And to feel your heart pumping hard
I want to tell my story to your eyes
I want to watch you react
To me baby
Maybe Im dreaming
I got to do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devils playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
Shes my great obsession
And the girl likes me too
I think she has the wrong impression
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe Im dreaming
I better do something
We might be on the same planet
But talk different tongues
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devils playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe Im dreaming
I better do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devils playground
Hear the church bells ring
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Language Of Love
I want your flesh and blood
And to feel your heart pumping hard
I want to tell my story to your eyes
I want to watch you react
To me baby
Maybe I'm dreaming
I got to do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devil's playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
She's my great obsession
And the girl likes me too
I think she has the wrong impression
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe I'm dreaming
I better do something
We might be on the same planet
But talk different tongues
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devil's playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe I'm dreaming
I better do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devil's playground
Hear the church bells ring
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Only One
She was the only one
Of my flesh and blood
Now I have no calling
I can do no worldly good
I sit silent
I sit mourning
I sit listless all the day
Ive mostly lost the voice to speak
And any words to say except
Does heaven have enough angels yet
Ive gone hard
And Ive gone cold
I cant make the piece of this cracked life fit
Please forgive me for wanting to know
Does heaven have enough angels yet
She was the only one
Of my own flesh and blood
Sometimes I hear her calling
Straight from the house of god
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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