So now, thirty years, forty years later, I mean, I could find a whole orchestra of a thousand to put these things together in New York City alone. In those days, if I could scrape up twenty musicians to do this it was something extraordinary.
quote by Gunther Schuller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Ten Grey hairs and a silver one
I discovered my first grey hair
when I was Seventeen years old
It had to do with broken up my first relationship
I discovered my second grey hair
when I was Twenty years old
It had to do with the quarrels at home
I discovered my third grey hair
when I was Twenty-one years old
It had to do with searching for work
I discovered my fourth grey hair
when I was Twenty-three years old
It had to do with loosing my job
I discovered my fifth grey hair
when I was Twenty-five years old
It had to do with giving up my unborn child
I discovered my sixth grey hair
When I was Twenty-eight years old
It had to do with opening my pub
I discovered my seventh grey hair
When I was thirty years old
It had to do with giving birth to my daughter
I discovered my eight grey hair
When I was thirty –two years old
It had to do with the first day at the kinder garden school
I discovered my ninth grey hair
When I was thirty-four years old
It had to do with to find out that some thing was missing
I discovered my tenth grey hair
When I was thirty-five years old
It had to do with the fights between my sisters and mum
My one Silver hair I discovered lately
Has to do with you
Because I miss you so hard …
poem by Pascale Ost
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My Next Thirty Years
(track 12 - time 3:37)
(phil vassar)
I think Ill take a moment, celebrate my age
The ending of an era and the turning of a page
Now its time to focus in on where I go from here
Lord have mercy on my next thirty years
Hey my next thirty years Im gonna have some fun
Try to forget about all the crazy things Ive done
Maybe now Ive conquered all my adolescent fears
And Ill do it better in my next thirty years
My next thirty years Im gonna settle all the scores
Cry a little less, laugh a little more
Find a world of happiness without the hate and fear
Figure out just what Im doing here
In my next thirty years
Oh my next thirty years, Im gonna watch my weight
Eat a few more salads and not stay up so late
Drink a little lemonade and not so many beers
Maybe Ill remember my next thirty years
My next thirty years will be the best years of my life
Raise a little family and hang out with my wife
Spend precious moments with the ones that I hold dear
Make up for lost time here, in my next thirty years
In my next thirty years
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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39
I only woke this morning
To find the world is fair—
I’m going on for forty,
With scarcely one grey hair;
I’m going on for forty,
Where man’s strong life begins,
With scarce a sign of crows’ feet,
In spite of all my sins.
Then here’s the living Forties!
The Forties! The Forties!
Then here’s the living Forties!
We’re good for ten years more.
The teens were black and bitter,
A smothered boyhood’s grave—
A farm-drudge in the drought-time,
A weary workshop slave.
But twenty years have laid them,
And all the world is fair—
We’ll find time in the Forties,
To have some boyhood there.
Then here’s the wide, free Forties—
The Forties! The Forties!
Then here’s the wide, free Forties!
We’re good for ten years more!
The twenties they were noble,
The bravest years, I think;
’Twas man to man in trouble,
In working and in drink;
’Twas man to man in fighting,
For money or for praise.
And we’ll find in the Forties
Some more Bohemian days.
Then here’s the wiser Forties!
The Forties! The Forties!
Then here’s the wiser Forties!
We’re good for ten years more.
The thirties were the fate years;
I fought behind the scenes.
The thirties were more cruel
And blacker than the teens;
I held them not but bore them—
They were no years of mine;
But they are going from me,
For I am thirty-nine.
So here’s the stronger Forties!
The Forties! The Forties!
And here’s the good old Forties!
We’re good for ten years more.
poem by Henry Lawson
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New York
New York, New York
A city that breathes endlessly
Dollars are spent carelessly
New York, New York
A city of squares and blocks
And the Stars roll and rock
While tourist flock
Like sheep cornered in squares
Entertainment, clubs and theatres
Is all that seems to matter
Twenty four seven
Alive in heaven
New York
A taxi takes you round and round the blocks
I end up in Madison Square
Where I started out twenty minutes before
But who cares?
This is New York
Every where there are open doors
New York, New York
A city that never sleeps
Everywhere you must leave a tip
But this city is worth the trip
New York, New York
A city of numbers and avenues
And elongated queues
It is true
I see now, I know now
About what they say about New York!
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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At twenty years of age the will reigns; at thirty, the wit; and at forty, the judgment.
quote by Benjamin Franklin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poem -Written On The Small Pad
THE POEM / WRITTEN ON THE SMALL PAD
The poem/
Written on the small pad
In the almond tree park
Intersection Disraeli- Alkalai
The poem of the past days
The poem of the light – rain beginning,
Another Jerusalem poem-
Four- thousand years of Jerusalem poems
I from Troy, New York
Thirty- five years in Israel
Nearly sixty- eight years of age
Write.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I mean in recent years, I think you've only got to sell thirty or forty thousand to get a #1.
quote by Neil Innes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Safe In New York City
(young - young)
Hello baby gimme your hand
Check out the high spots the lay of the land
You dont need a rocket or a big limousine
Come on over baby and Ill make you obscene
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
All over the city and down to the dives
Dont mess with this place itll eat you alive
Got lip smackin honey to soak up the jam
On top of the world ma ready to slam
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
Movin all over like a jumpin bean
Take a look at that thing in the tight ass jeans
Comin your way now you may be in luck
Dont you fret boy shes ready to buck
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
New york, new york, new york
I feel safe in a cage in new york city
2000, j. albert & son, pty.
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Date Of Christmas DaY
The Date Of Christmas DaY
A.D.Four plus thirty-three= A.D.Thirty-seven.
The millineum year Two Thousand Thirty Seven has not yet occured.
Inn mye humble opinion never will it ever bee.
Iff Christ was born in September Thirty-Seven,
we should have Christmas on September Three.
December TwentY-fifth is the dead works day of druids.
They still dance the maypole day in May.
May ONE could be the birthday of GODS son.
The time is tricky anyway after more than a few years.
Everything gets blurry after way too many beers.
The moral of this story just accept that it was done.
This Christmas try to worship on December Twenty-One.
Drink less eggnogg and have more FUN.
On this millineum day in Nineteen Fifty-Four;
Eye was not yet one year Young.
poem by Charles Hice
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The Computation
For my first twenty years, since yesterday,
I scarce believed thou couldst be gone away;
For forty more I fed on favours past,
And forty on hopes that thou wouldst they might last;
Tears drown'd one hundred, and sighs blew out two;
A thousand, I did neither think nor do,
Or not divide, all being one thought of you;
Or in a thousand more, forgot that too.
Yet call not this long life; but think that I
Am, by being dead, immortal; can ghosts die?
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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What They Will Say
Some times, I wonder if I write for the future.
That may seem like a strange statement to make.
Forty-three years ago, I wrote a poem
that at the time no one wanted to know.
Now it is my best-loved poem
read by countless people around the world.
Thirty years ago, I wrote two poems
and each one won me an award,
but at the time I wrote them,
no one wanted to know.
All of which makes me wonder
if what I wrote in my yesteryears
that then none wanted to know.
Could they all be popular now?
Today I started collecting and retyping
short stories I wrote twenty years ago.
At the time, publishers and agents
didn’t want to know.
Now twenty year on
I am wondering what they will say.
24 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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When I Grow Up
When i grow up to be a man
Will i dig the same things that turn me on as a kid?
Will i look back and say that i wish i hadn't done what i did?
Will i joke around and still dig those sounds
When i grow up to be a man?
Will i look for the same things in a woman that i dig in a girl?
(fourteen fifteen)
Will i settle down fast or will i first wanna travel the world?
(sixteen seventeen)
Now i'm young and free, but how will it be
When i grow up to be a man?
Oooooo ooooooo oooooooo
Will my kids be proud or think their old man is really a square?
(eighteen nineteen)
When they're out having fun yeah, will i still wanna have my share?
(twenty twenty-one)
Will i love my wife for the rest of my life
When i grow up to be a man?
What will i be when i grow up to be a man?
(twenty-two twenty-three)
Won't last forever
(twenty-four twenty-five)
It's kind of sad
(twenty-six twenty-seven)
Won't last forever
(twenty-eight twenty-nine)
It's kind of sad
(thirty thirty-one)
Won't last forever
(thirty-two...)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twenty Years Ago
It's been a long time since I walked
Through this old town
But oh how the memories start to flow
And there's the old movie house
They finally closed it down
You could find me there every Friday night
Twenty years ago.
I worked the counter at the drugstore down the street
But nobody's left there I would know
On Saturday mornings that's where
All my friends would meet
You'd be surprised to know what a dime would buy
Twenty years ago.
All my memories from those days come gather round me
What I'd give if they could take me back in time
It almost seems like yesterday
Where do the good times go?
Life was so much easier twenty years ago.
I guess I should stop by Mr. Johnson's hardware store
His only son was my friend Joe
But he joined the army back in 1964
How could we know he would never come back
Twenty years ago...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twenty-nine Thousand Four Hundred Seven Sunsets
Twenty-nine thousand four hundred seven sunsets
With one same sun on the one same sea.
In the early days by my mother’s side,
Though she’d often tell me of the sun and of the sea,
I seldom watched, and never for long,
The slow dissolve,
The melt and plunge,
Now you see it, now you don’t-
So many sunsets lost.
Twenty-nine thousand four hundred seven sunsets
With one same sun on the one same sea.
The years of my youth were marked by friends and sport,
Often whole days on the beach-
Raging winds and mammoth waves
Or a still, glass sea, not a cloud in the sky,
And every shade in between.
I rarely fathomed the myriad shapes and colors,
An ever-changing landscape-
So very many sunsets lost.
Twenty-nine thousand four hundred seven sunsets
With one same sun on the one same sea.
The middle-aged years pinned me to my work;
Yet through a window from time to time,
Or on holiday, if I risked the break,
I’d notice how lovely a sunset could be-
So very many sunsets lost forever.
Twenty-nine thousand four hundred seven sunsets
With one same sun on the one same sea.
At last, in these final days, each sunset is anticipated, craved.
Regardless the mood of the sea, it will receive the sun.
No matter the face of the sky, it will let go the same.
The sun itself, always churning, always burning,
Swells with new brilliance, new radiance and splendor
Each time it approaches the sea,
Then morphs into a molten pool on the sea’s surface
Before plunging from view-
Never more a sunset lost.
Twenty-nine thousand four hundred seven sunsets
With one same sun on the one same sea.
Then one glorious day,
The day of my twenty-nine thousand four hundred and sixth sunset,
And I at my usual place along the shore,
Saw the sun rise out of the sea from where it had just set!
The sun rose back up into the sky, and
In the very next moment on the very same day, it set again.
I experienced my twenty-nine thousand four hundred and seventh sunset,
The second in one day!
Oh glorious day!
A sunset gained.
Twenty-nine thousand four hundred seven sunsets
With one same sun on the one same sea.
(In 2 Kings 20: 9-11 the Lord made the shadow go back 10 steps. Certainly, at that exact moment, somewhere in the world, someone saw the sun dissolve on the horizon and then rise again.)
I'll think about things for thirty or forty years before I'll write it.
quote by Richard Brautigan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I Grew Up
When I grow up to be a man
Will I dig the same things that turn me on as a kid?
Will I look back and say that I wish I hadnt done what I did?
Will I joke around and still dig those sounds
When I grow up to be a man?
Will I look for the same things in a woman that I dig in a girl?
(fourteen fifteen)
Will I settle down fast or will I first wanna travel the world?
(sixteen seventeen)
Now Im young and free, but how will it be
When I grow up to be a man?
Oooooo ooooooo oooooooo
Will my kids be proud or think their old man is really a square?
(eighteen nineteen)
When theyre out having fun yeah, will I still wanna have my share?
(twenty twenty-one)
Will I love my wife for the rest of my life
When I grow up to be a man?
What will I be when I grow up to be a man?
(twenty-two twenty-three)
Wont last forever
(twenty-four twenty-five)
Its kind of sad
(twenty-six twenty-seven)
Wont last forever
(twenty-eight twenty-nine)
Its kind of sad
(thirty thirty-one)
Wont last forever
(thirty-two...)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Russian Sonia
I, born in Weimar
Of a mother who was French
And German father, a most learned professor,
Orphaned at fourteen years,
Became a dancer, known as Russian Sonia,
All up and down the boulevards of Paris,
Mistress betimes of sundry dukes and counts,
And later of poor artists and of poets.
At forty years, passée, I sought New York
And met old Patrick Hummer on the boat,
Red-faced and hale, though turned his sixtieth year,
Returning after having sold a ship-load
Of cattle in the German city, Hamburg.
He brought me to Spoon River and we lived here
For twenty years -- they thought that we were married!
This oak tree near me is the favorite haunt
Of blue jays chattering, chattering all the day.
And why not? for my very dust is laughing
For thinking of the humorous thing called life.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Twenty Days
Twenty days are barely gone,
I was merry all the day.
Folly was my butt of scorn.
Now the fool myself I play.
Wit and learning ruled my head,
Logic and economy.
All the books I ever read
Taught me only vanity.
Most of all it moved my mirth
Womankind the world should rule.
Man, the lord of all the Earth!
He, forsooth, a woman's tool!
Cherry lip and glancing eye!
What were rosy cheeks to me?
Beauty's truth was but a lie--
Witness tomes of history!
Twenty days had barely run.
Twenty years they well might be.
All my wisdom was undone,
Reason bade good--night to me.
Her hair was of the red red gold,
Her blue eyes looked me through and through.
She was twenty--three years old,
I was twenty years and two.
Fortune, fame, I freely give,
Honour's self, if so she please,
Sweetly in her smile to live
Other twenty days like these.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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To Mrs. Thrale on Her Completing Her Thirty-fifth Year
Oft in danger, yet alive,
We are come to thirty-five;
Long may better years arrive,
Better years than thirty-five.
Could philosophers contrive
Life to stop at thirty-five,
Time his hours should never drive
O'er the bounds of thirty-five
High to soar, and deep to dive,
Nature gives at thirty-five.
Ladies, stop and tend your hive,
Trifle not at thirty-five;
For, howe'er we boast and strive,
Life declines from thirty-five:
He that ever hopes to thrive
Must begin by thirty-five:
And all who wisely wish to wive
Must look on Thrale at thirty-five.
poem by Samuel Johnson
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Chain of Thirty Three and Bracelet of Nine
Eight years ago in old New York,
I found a special shop
With silver things from Argentina;
Quality, the top.
I bought a silver necklace there,
With links of twenty five,
To mark that anniversary,
Our married love, alive.
I was assigned to Argentina
Some ten months ago.
We thought of adding to the necklace,
Since we liked it so.
We found an expert jeweler here,
And Sellar was his name.
He thought that he could find eight silver
Links made just the same.
Well, twenty five and eight, you see,
Add up to thirty three,
Which this year marks our married love,
In anniversary.
But eight links didn't seem enough
To make it worth his while,
As Gerry felt a bracelet
Might make old Sellar smile.
So, Frank then ordered nine more links
Of silver in a chain,
To represent our children and
Configured just the the same.
Now, Gerry has a matching set,
That suits her mighty fine:
The necklace chain of thirty three,
And bracelet of nine.
(For our thirty-third wedding anniversary, April 21,1984, Buenos Aires, Argentina.)
poem by Frank V. Gardner
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