I knew it was gonna go out. It was just a question of it being fair or foul. The wind must have carried it 15 feet toward the foul pole. I just stood there and watched. I didn't want to miss seeing it go out.
quote by Carlton Fisk
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
For at least another hundred years we must pretend to ourselves and to every one that fair is foul and foul is fair; for foul is useful and fair is not. Avarice and usury and precaution must be our gods for a little longer still.
quote by John Maynard Keynes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Foul play
Foul play not good
Foul players destroy themselves.
Foul play means play with injustice
Foul play means neglect justice.
Foul play I do not like
Foul play I do not like.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crazy Jane Talks With The Bishop
I met the Bishop on the road
And much said he and I.
'Those breasts are flat and fallen now,
Those veins must soon be dry;
Live in a heavenly mansion,
Not in some foul sty.'
'Fair and foul are near of kin,
And fair needs foul,' I cried.
'My friends are gone, but that's a truth
Nor grave nor bed denied,
Learned in bodily lowliness
And in the heart's pride.
'A woman can be proud and stiff
When on love intent;
But Love has pitched his mansion in
The place of excrement;
For nothing can be sole or whole
That has not been rent.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Trailing Voices
A million cried
Help! Help! Help!
Another million yelled
Foul! Foul! Foul!
Before an unfeeling
Sovereign! In vain! !
And a billion populace
That raised the reign
Remained maimed!
Letting quietly its body
To be eater away
By its own organelle! ! !
poem by Sathya Narayana
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The peacock hath fair feathers, but foul feet.
Carried Away
(barry gibb/albhy galuten)
There you are
Shiny as a morning star
Its a figure of speech
But youre still out of reach
You never told me loving you could be so wrong and right
And its gonna be a lonely night
I turn to you
You turn away
Youre looking at someone else
And here am i
Loving you more and more
Weve got an open door, my love
Oh let it be just a state of mind
And suddenly you appear
Im carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
Cest la vie
So you wanna play another part
Can you say goodbye
Can you live a lie
Shell never give you what I gave you was my breaking heart
Better than I ever knew
And if you can live without my love
Youre really gonna be alone
And here am i
Walking against the crowd
Calling your name out loud, my love
Oh let it be just a state of mind
And suddenly you appear
Im carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
Carried away
Baby there aint no final word
Ill be yours again
I got a world of tenderness
Yours until the end
Im carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
Im carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
Im carried away
To be carried away
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Foul Shots: A Clinic
for Paul Levitt Be perpendicular to the basket,
toes avid for the line.
Already this description
is perilously abstract: the ball
and basket are round, the nailhead
centered in the centerplank
of the foul-circle is round,
and though the rumpled body
isn't round, it isn't
perpendicular. You have to draw
'an imaginary line,' as the breezy
coaches say, 'through your shoulders.'
Here's how to cheat: remember
your collarbone. Now the instructions
grow spiritual -- deep breathing,
relax and concentrate both; aim
for the front of the rim but miss it
deliberately so the ball goes in.
Ignore this part of the clinic
and shoot 200 foul shots
every day. Teach yourself not to be
bored by any boring one of them.
You have to love to do this, and chances
are you don't; you'd love to be good
at it but not by a love that drives
you to shoot 200 foul shots
every day, and the lovingly unlaunched
foul shots we're talking about now --
the clinic having served to bring us
together -- circle eccentrically
in a sky of stolid orbits
as unlike as you and I are
from the arcs those foul shots
leave behind when they go in.
poem by William Matthews
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Y - hole- 8
Back at another hole.
Just not feeling that bold.
MAYBE getting old.
JUST THAT WATER HOLE.
Can't have no water.
FOUL-FOUL-FOUL-MAN-no water.
GO! ! ! Have a soda dude....or who ever.
Just want water man.
WE ONLY GOT - ACID RAIN - water.
DON'T need that trip.
But that is it.
100.00 dollars for a cool cup.
MAN-I said-MAN-WE GOT NO WATER.
YOU JUST OUT OF LUCK.
500 million cars are right.
EVERY DAY I NEED WATER.
DIE MAN-that's it # 8
1/18/2007 Joe Poewhit
JESUS SAVES
poem by Joe Poewhit
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Foul Mouths Shouting
This magic we hold...
Comes from deep 'withinside' of us.
The moment our hearts began to beat...
That magic of life,
Began
To sweep us up in its wonder....to keep,
In wonder.
And so ungrateful we become,
Soon after that's done.
With a so too often shown...
Disrespect to be allowed.
And foul mouths shouting...
In someone's house.
And so ungrateful we become,
And soon after that's done.
Foul mouths shouting...
In someone's house
To cuss it!
For what it is,
And what it is not!
Soiled from the beginning.
And spoiled to aggrevate and annoy!
A lot!
Until there is conflict.
And it does come.
And so ungrateful we become,
And soon after that's done.
Foul mouths shouting...
In someone's house
And we re-act the way we've been taught,
To defend ourselves.
From those 'bad guys'.
With their differences...
Few make attempts to hide.
Foul mouths shouting...
In someone's house rise.
And we spy on 'them'...
To undercover their weak spots!
Making it easier to do them in.
To cuss it!
For what it is,
And what it is not!
Soiled from the beginning.
And spoiled to aggrevate and annoy!
A lot.
Until there is conflict.
And it does start!
And so ungrateful we become,
And soon after that's done.
Foul mouths shouting...
In someone's house
To cuss it!
For what it is,
And what it is not!
Soiled from the beginning.
And spoiled to aggrevate and annoy!
A lot.
Until there is conflict.
And it comes to start again!
Foul mouths shouting...
To cuss it!
For what it is.
Foul mouths shouting...
To cuss it!
For what it is.
Foul mouths shouting...
To cuss it!
For what it is.
To cuss it!
For what it is.
To cuss it!
For what it is.
Cuss it!
For what it is.
To Cuss it!
For what it is.
Cuss it!
Cuss it!
Cuss it!
Cuss it!
Cuss it!
For what it is.
To Cuss it!
For what it is.
Cuss it!
For what it is.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Find Satan
Forging a mail has in this world a finder,
A remark so foul that lords and ladies shall arrive.
In that border is a line or a wall,
And evil is the good of this wall.
Why does the Cocoon be strong to crack,
And then Sweden shall award a million?
A book is written of divine beauty,
It carried a solitude of ugly levers.
Hounds of distress are bent towards the stars up above,
Wolves of stone and ice, that dwell among the night.
Their boundaries are now immediate
And their entrails are foul.
Strength is the criminal feed, it is Satan!
poem by Naveed Akram
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Equally Foul
Sometimes it is easier to hide,
A red elephant in a closet.
Than to open the door of one,
Looking for a good mood to wear.
And...
Hoping to keep it,
Without someone having something foul to say...
To ruin one's entire day.
As if they knew just how to do it.
It takes all the strength in the world,
Not to step toe to toe with ignorance.
And a good mood can be stripped to grit teeth...
Just like that!
Quicker than someone with decent intentions,
Indecently allows something equally foul...
To come popping right out of the mouth.
And,
Consciously!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Was I Just Dreaming?
I watched as the Lord carried his cross
through the streets of my estate,
I wanted to go and help him
but I just looked on instead.
Gangs of feral youths stood around
smoking dope and drinking lager
I was amazed they didn't notice
who was walking past them.
Then it dawned on me
he was invisible to their eyes.
I then watched Christ as he walked
through the crowded city streets,
people going about there business
too busy to notice the Lord in there midst.
I noticed him as he slowed down
was the cross getting too heavy to bear?
he stopped near to a public house,
customers stood outside drinking
but they too seemed oblivious
who was standing so close to them.
I followed behind him as he carried on
walking with his heavy cross
on through town after town,
city after city, country after country.
During his long painful journey
he witnessed wars upon wars,
violence upon violence,
hate, misery, sadness, loneliness.
but nobody knew that he was there.
Then I woke up drenched in sweat
realising it was all just a dream,
it was just a dream, wasn't it?
poem by Kevin Halls
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All existing things are really one. We regard those that are beautiful and rare as valuable, and those that are ugly as foul and rotten The foul and rotten may come to be transformed into what is rare and valuable, and the rare and valuable into what is foul and rotten.
quote by Chuang Tzu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Falstaff: By the Lord, a buck-basket! rammed me in with foul shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings, greasy napkins; that, Master Brook, there was the rankest compound of villanous smell that ever offended nostril.
line from The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act III, Scene 5 by William Shakespeare (1602)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Faith In Snappy Chimp Champion After John Dryden Happy The Man
Snappy chimp champion who can alone
candid cavort, call every faith his own:
secure within, who'd win reprieve or stay
from faithless human safari foray.
Be fair or foul or jungle rain or shine
who joy possesses man can't undermine,
pollution free, from storied past draws power,
may say what's been has been, when mankind's had its hour
Happy the Man John Dryden
Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call today his own:
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
Be fair or foul or rain or shine
The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine.
Not Heaven itself upon the past has power,
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Grains of Sand
Rolling in receding back
I watch the ocean’s waves.
Wondering what do they bring
or take away.
Reaching to my feet
some sand I scoop.
Through my fingers
those tiny grains flow.
Some so smooth
as if their journey long.
Others jagged sharp.
Had they not traveled far?
I muse to myself
What tales could they tell?
Relating their travels
carried by the seas.
if any what secrets
might they hide?
Tragedies triumphs
fair seas and foul.
Had they witnessed
great things and small?
As my mind wandered
imagination followed.
Again the waves roll in.
Now the sand is gone.
That sand I held
taken away.
Where will the seas
carry those grains?
On what other shores
will they a visit pay?
poem by Kurt Hearth
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He is like a silver pin, Fair without, but foul within.