I think that if you keep banging at the door all you need is a little foothold, a little tiny foothold, and then the rest will take care of itself.
quote by Branford Marsalis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Scientific theory is a contrived foothold in the chaos of living phenomena.
quote by Wilhelm Reich
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Now is the time for us to strike. We must strengthen our foothold in Asia, to ensure no nation overtakes us.
quote by Larry Summers
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All tyranny needs to gain a foothold is for people of good conscience to remain silent.
quote by Thomas Jefferson
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Foothold firm may twist
false pride to prepare its fall
one flick of the wrist
haiku by Jonathan Robin (13 April 2005)
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Solace and Solitude
In the slim chance of happening,
my heart has learnt to abide-
In a stillness and in a solitude
for which weariness can hide.
Where weariness and fortitude
have melded and become one.
Where trials and tribulations
are pasts and have been dones
Where pain and memory have no foothold,
for their tempers have been curbed.
Where rest is not a dream.
Where peace lies undisturbed.
And we need to maintain our foothold in the fight against terrorism and terrorist groups and respond to any degradation of Iraqi security or stability.
quote by Rick Larsen
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We will build new ships to carry man forward into the universe, to gain a new foothold on the moon and to prepare for new journeys to the worlds beyond our own.
quote by George W. Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Morning Land
Around and beneath, the dull grey mist and the sullen roar of the sea,
Scant footing-place on the sheer cliffs face—with death for a penalty;
But afar and above there is rest and love, there is hope for brain and hand,
The valleys fair and the crystal air and the peaks of Morning Land.
Around and beneath are the mists of toil and the sullen roar of the world,
And the sneer of scorn for a foothold gone and a climber backward hurled;
But afar and above are the hopes of men with the heart and will to stand
On the thin rift’s edge and the slippery ledge that lead to Morning Land.
They slip and fall from the sheer cliffs face; ah, God! they are falling still!
But another leaps for the vacant place, and another his place will fill.
’Tis little they fear the coward’s sneer, or the scorn of a selfish band,
Whose eyes are set on the parapet and the heights of Morning Land.
Hark to the ring as their rock picks swing, and bite for a foothold there!
Grip by grip they are straining up that others may travel fair.
The world will follow them all some day, the men it has shunned and banned,
The gallant hearts that hewed the way that leads to Morning Land.
poem by George Essex Evans
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Banging On The Door
You know that it hurts
These things that you say
But Ill be alright
Dont lose your faith
Just swallow your pride tonight
God only knows this place is strange
Banging on the door again
Banging on the door thats locked forever
Losing on a lovers game
Winning on the one side and losing forever
The air that we breather hangs heavy tonight
Still I look for your face
Im home all alone again
Some dreams grow old and then they just die
Im banging on the door again
Still banging on the door thats locked forever
Losing on a lovers game
Winning on the one track and hurting forever
Oh your love is a symphony
All this love over all of me
Oh your love is a symphony
Oh sweet love I can feel it
Still banging on the door again
Im banging on the door thats sealed forever
Losing on a lovers game
Winning on the one track hurting forever
Written by : kerr/burchill reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bangin' On The Door
You know that it hurts
These things that you say
But I'll be alright
Don't lose your faith
Just swallow your pride tonight
God only knows this place is strange
Banging on the door again
Banging on the door that's locked forever
Losing on a lover's game
Winning on the one side and losing forever
The air that we breather hangs heavy tonight
Still I look for your face
I'm home all alone again
Some dreams grow old and then they just die
I'm banging on the door again
Still banging on the door that's locked forever
Losing on a lover's game
Winning on the one track and hurting forever
Oh your love is a symphony
All this love over all of me
Oh your love is a symphony
Oh sweet love I can feel it
Still banging on the door again
I'm banging on the door that's sealed forever
Losing on a lover's game
Winning on the one track hurting forever
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We entered Gettysburg in the afternoon, just in time to meet the enemy entering the town, and in good season to drive him back before his getting a foothold.
quote by John Buford
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To what shore would you cross
To what shore would you cross,
O my heart?
there is no traveller before you,
there is no road:
Where is the movement,
where is the rest,
on that shore?
There is no water; no boat, no boatman, is there;
There is not so much as a rope to tow the boat, nor a man to draw it.
No earth, no sky, no time, no thing, is there: no shore, no ford!
There, there is neither body nor mind:
and where is the place that shall still the thirst of the soul?
You shall find naught in that emptiness.
Be strong, and enter into your own body:
for there your foothold is firm.
Consider it well,
O my heart!
go not elsewhere,
Kabîr says: 'Put all imaginations away,
and stand fast in that which you are.'
The Sonnets To Orpheus: Book 2: XXIII
Call to me to the one among your moments
that stands against you, ineluctably:
intimate as a dog's imploring glance
but, again, forever, turned away
when you think you've captured it at last.
What seems so far from you is most your own.
We are already free, and were dismissed
where we thought we soon would be at home.
Anxious, we keep longing for a foothold-
we, at times too young for what is old
and too old for what has never been;
doing justice only where we praise,
because we are the branch, the iron blade,
and sweet danger, ripening from within.
Translated by Stephen Mitchell
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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All Night
Turn it up (ha ha ha)
Flimode (ha ha ha)
Busta Rhymes (ha ha ha)
Another banging niggas (ha ha ha)
Another banging niggas (ha ha ha)
Another banging niggas (ha ha ha)
Another banging niggas (ha ha ha)
[Chorus:]
All night
To my east niggas West Coast and dirty south
song performed by by Busta Rhymes from Anarchy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unincorporated Insights XIII
The grays of thought trail to the blacks and whites
As if they were catfish crawling through dirt.
Sprawling though they are, they are out of sight,
Pressuring the mud to remain inert.
They prevent an untold calamity
By refusing to sift their skin forward,
Relaxing where there is conformity—
Though fear makes them thrash about and wayward.
Their quaking tremors of brash distemper
May break us from our rachitic foothold,
Hushing our antinomian whimpers,
Showing us that control is uncontrolled.
We tremble, not knowing we are their might,
Forming unincorporated insights.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Vacant Lot With Pokeweed
Tufts, follicles, grubstake
biennial rosettes, a low-
life beach-blond scruff of
couch grass: notwithstanding
the interglinting dregs
of wholesale upheaval and
dismemberment, weeds do not
hesitate, the wheeling
rise of the ailanthus halts
at nothing—and look! here's
a pokeweed, sprung up from seed
dropped by some vagrant, that's
seized a foothold: a magenta-
girdered bower, gazebo twirls
of blossom rounding into
raw-buttoned, garnet-rodded
fruit one more wayfarer
perhaps may salvage from
the season's frittering,
the annual wreckage.
poem by Amy Clampitt
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Sonnet 11
Which are the clouds, and which the mountains? See,
They mix and melt together! Yon blue hill
Looks fleeting as the vapors which distill
Their dews upon its summit, while the free
And far-off clouds, now solid, dark, and still,
An aspect wear of calm eternity.
Each seems the other, as our fancies will --
The cloud a mount, the mount a cloud, and we
Gaze doubtfully. So everywhere on earth,
This foothold where we stand with slipping feet,
The unsubstantial and substantial meet,
And we are fooled until made wise by Time.
Is not the obvious lesson something worth,
Lady? or have I wov'n an idle rhyme?
poem by Henry Timrod
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The Voortrekker
The gull shall whistle in his wake, the blind wave break in fire,
He shall fulfill God's utmost will unknowing His desire;
And he shall see old planets pass and alien stars arise,
And give the gale his seaworn sail in shadow of new skies.
Strong lust of gear shall drive him forth and hunger arm his hand
To win his food from the desert rude, his foothold from the sand.
His neighbors' smoke shall vex his eyes, their voices break his rest,
He shall go forth till South is North, sullen and dispossessed.
He shall desire loneliness, and his desire shall bring
Hard on his heels a thousand wheels, a People, and a King;
He shall come back in his own track, and by his scarce cooled camp;
There shall he meet the roaring street, the derrick, and the stamp;
There he shall blaze a nation's ways with hatchet and with brand,
Till on his last-won wilderness an Empire's outposts stand!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Sunset
At the world's end,
Line ending the day of sublime fire
Play of shining, flocks of birds,
Burning in the light, like ash consume by the fire,
Disappearing with the wind.
Landscape, invigorate by twilight, in a painted sky,
Like a table set for celebration.
Boundaries of new land where the sun rest,
Calm, whispering in all his glory.
So powerful, into my eyes.
That my thought dwells.
There, where the sky in sharing day & night.
Tired heart finds peace.
Home of the soul.
Like a veil drown, on the day gone by.
Before the night takes hold.
The blurry moon, reflect the last good-bye.
The silent sky, contained the world in a wave of blue fire.
The bricks of the houses, absorb the light of a winter sky.
Reflected by the windows
The last foothold of light, adore the days.
Immaculate clouds, praising life.
For at sunset all the angel are called to worship the lord.
poem by Luca Menin
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Bangin' On My Drum
I'm banging on my drum, I'm banging on my drum
I'm banging on my drum, boy, I'm having lot's of fun
I'm banging on my drum, Yeah, I'm banging on my drum
I'm banging on my drum, now baby, and I'm having lot's of fun
I'm banging on my drum, I'm banging on my drum
I'm banging on my drum, boy, I'm having lot's of fun
I'm banging on my one, my one, my drum ...
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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