He knows so little and knows it so fluently.
quote by Ellen Glasgow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
I speak French fluently, so that really helped.
quote by Noah Hathaway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Many of the Central Asians know Russian, and Ted Levin speaks it fluently. I speak Chinese, but Mongolian is completely different, so we had to have translators.
I want to go to college to study journalism. I want to speak French fluently, to travel. My mom was a journalist and it's in my blood.
quote by Mandy Moore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's like learning a language; you can't speak a language fluently until you find out who you are in that language, and that has as much to do with your body as it does with vocabulary and grammar.
quote by Fred Frith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To the Etruscan Poets
Dream fluently, still brothers, who when young
Took with your mother's milk the mother tongue,
In which pure matrix, joining world and mind,
You strove to leave some line of verse behind
Like still fresh tracks across a field of snow,
Not reckoning that all could melt and go.
poem by Richard Wilbur
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Crazy..
i think i m crazy
cos i miss u
though i try not to
cos i wait your msg
insted i know u wont read mine
cos i cant dropp a tear
while my heart is full of pain
cos i cant stop thinking of u
even u treat me bad
i m crazy
cos of u BABY...
wish time would pass by
fluently....
cos i cant breathe
whenever i saw u
with that girl!
wish my pain is over
sooner....
poem by Moon Light
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Either Fahrenheit or Centigrade?
Inside this rickety rib cage
Hanging the precious fragile heart
and the warmth of the furnace
Either Farenheit or Centigrade
That doesn't make any difference
and through the weak human veins
Carries the innocent red blood?
The kind & smart politicians
Speak all the languages of the World fluently
except the needy?
They make unnecessary rage battlefields
for shedding the innocent red blood?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Sonnet 51: Pardon Mine Ears
Pardon mine ears, both I and they do pray,
So may your tongue still fluently proceed,
To them that do such entertainment need,
So may you still have somewhat new to say.
On silly me do not the burden lay,
Of all the grave conceits your brain doth breed;
But find some Hercules to bear, instead
Of Atlas tir'd, your wisdom's heav'nly sway.
For me, while you discourse of courtly tides,
Of cunning fishers in most troubled streams,
Of straying ways, when valiant error guides:
Meanwhile my heart confers with Stella's beams
And is even irk'd that so sweet comedy,
By such unsuited speech should hinder'd be.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Excellent Path
A path of excellence flows through the life,
An infant asks what we learn for the path;
One man is better at the task than another
For all have tasks that are arduous, that back break.
Infancy is a prize and we carefully count
Their years for all to hear; the hearing is complete.
Excel for them, each will gain their respite,
One man is better at the task than another.
May we fluently speak for our throats,
The throat enables our deliberate thoughts of precision.
The real sages recite the verses of poetry
And write their own prose for all infants to read.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Sonnet-God Knows Our Sins
Your blemishes, you may well hide, O Man;
Your tattoo-marks and port-wine stains, you mask;
And naevi too, remove so well, you can.
For plastic-surgeons perform any task.
Your tongue can lie by habit fluently;
You camouflage misdeeds with undue skill;
And heinous crimes can be masked intently;
You escape when you injure or even kill.
The Maker watches every act of yours;
He knows it when 'tis just a new-born thought;
God keeps track of our days, weeks, seconds, hours;
Account to Him for earthly-stay, we ought.
No man can mask the sinful stains of soul;
Let us never forget our Heav'nly goal.
poem by John Celes
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Mountainhike
following smallest roads
unwinding paths
up or down hill
beautiful draped shawls
from a distance
clogged in sealed forests
disappearing light
a mountain tucked away
in the dark
breathing on rare meadows
revealing rooms
a mountain showing off
heights and depths
listening to secret brooks
whispering quietly
a mountain coming out
naturally and fluently
watching glorious views
enjoying any moment
the peak appears midway
fullest fulfillment of eternal dreams
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
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Sonnet: The Tongue
Tongue, the muscle belly in the mouth’s floor!
That grandmothers used to narrate folklore;
With sensors to taste the food that we eat,
And speak fluently with neighbors who cheat.
The boneless tongue gives creatures satiety;
In misdemeanor, speaks words so nasty;
The tongue-tied man cannot speak out too well;
The one with a long tongue argues like hell.
The tongue can emit both a soothing word,
And also cut like a double-edged sword;
The tongue helps one to sing a sweet song,
And touch one’s nose-tip whenever too long.
The tongue can start a war or conclude it;
Some stars use it for their kissing habit.
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: God, Bless My Dear Sister
God gave her beauteous body and long hair!
Intelligent, she prayed really hard;
She spoke fluently and looked very fair;
As doctor, she was superb in the ward.
But suddenly, her dad had fallen ill;
She looked after him ‘like a nurse’ by day;
‘Insulined’ making urine sugar ‘Nil’!
She worked as doctor by night far away!
God bless’d her with good husband, three children;
Her Practice too is good but life is tough;
She tends to mother more than eighty when
She develops chest-cold and nasty cough.
God bless my doctor sister for her feat!
Help her in times of woes: devils defeat.
poem by John Celes
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Will It Be Painfull
will it be painfull?
tears are approaching
my feelings and emotions
are ruff as im growing
my decisions are brewing
and it mixes so fluently
sometimes i need to remember im me
will it hurt?
i start to learn
that no matter how much i do and earn
ill still be lower than dirt
im not always sure
and i hate to argue my side
when no ones listening
and it seem i got ditched again
do i really care?
am i maniacle?
thoughts are lent towards synacle
and maybe i understand
from hell and beyond
whats the fucking point?
why would i care about my problems?
when my whole life i've been told that
i will never know how to solve them
i might as well accept the consequences
not knowing how deal with this and this and this
i'll roll it off my shoulder i guess
will i cry?
i cant hold a flame to your blazing candle
when the world seems like its to much to handle
i wonder..wonder..and wonder.. will it be painfull?
Love Has Its Own Scars...
love does not sleep with clouds
and flowers...
nor wait patiently on dawn!
but with the barrel of the gun
cold on bruised lips,
with the torn flesh of moonlight,
at the height of the storm.
love never enters by doors,
but steals through windows...
speaks fluently in the language of hurt.
is the beginning of wars,
and their only end.
wine bittered with poison,
water still and pure!
rises in flight without warning,
tears the gutters from the roof.
shouts with silence,
and rhymes poverty's nails.
has its own prayers,
names its own gods...
becomes the value of a life,
on eternity's table.
the hurricane that strokes,
the hunger that weeps.
love has its own scars,
digs its own grave with a fork!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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PEOPLES(For Lyn)
She gathers
the world
into her
consciousness
holds its facts
like a beautiful blue
bunch
of wild flowers
clutched
tightly in her tiny fist.
All is alive
to her
whether it be sky
cloud or river...whatever.
Nothing is ever
only a thing.
Everything
is
“...peoples! ”
We visit & re-visit
the old pond
full of
“frog peoples”
who greet her
ecstatically
as if
she were one of their own.
She waves regally.
Speaks to them
fluently in frog.
Even stones become
“...the stone peoples! ”
She likes them
“...’cos they are so quiet! ”
“Their quiet is like a big noise in my head! ”
That night
trying to smuggle
her favourite cat
into her bed
snuggled up inside
her jumper
as if she were
pregnant with it
(it scratching & meowing
to be born)
she announces
(caught in the act)
“Cats is peoples too! ”
We give in to
her superior logic
seeing things
as she do.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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In Heaven
Two Leo’s in class – French professeur from Alliançe
Française and student from le Service du Changement
Climatique who wrote a a theme song for COP, oh wow,
what joy, my professeur hates grammar and politics as
much as I do
Speaks Afrikaans fluently, hates acronyms, refuses to look
at them, loves teaching, gave up translation as boring, talks
to her computer; Shumi, student who sings songs & dresses
beautifully; starting on Gaulois, ending up with Camel before
Marius ran off
We talked about maquillage - not wearing make-up and having
fun – finally my patience paid off, no need to fall asleep in a
class discussing cut-throat politics – I must have died
and woken in heaven - methinks!
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Taludoy
he last saw me when i was
four years old, barely able to walk from
a rare disease,
he was father's side kick
in the farm where flood rises
and they would have to use
boats to plant the rice.
he couldn't believe how i have become
so unlike of myself as a boy,
i have a big body now, and speaks
too fluently their own language,
father spoke their language
from the heart
but he was so cruel then
beating him with
a bamboo stick,
he did not cry though as
expected from a brave brown native
of the subanen tribe
known for their resilience.
Uncle Peping wants him evicted
and he has nowhere to go
only this land that his father
entrusted to him as a tenant
of the third generation.
i said he cannot leave just like that
there is a law
between us, from where i started as
a boy with a sense of
charity and
indebtedness of the past.
He taught me how to ride
the buffalo and
then he let me go fall
into the river
and swim
all by myself, alone unafraid
about the mythical
child-eating crocodile.
Now his life in in my hands.
And i must not
fail this time.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Speeeeeech!
does it make difference you speak in front of many people or alone
does it make difference you speech in historic place or in your toilet
does it make difference you are charismatic leader or unknown beggar from streetside
it makes difference you speak to clash conflict or for better world
it makes difference you speech bonded by past or to move forward
it makes difference you depend by fact or just soap service
does it make difference you read from text or speak fluently
does it make difference you speech in busy market or deserted mountain
does it make difference you write words yourself or scrap it from books and paper
it makes difference everybody exitedly listens or sleeps peacefully on their seats
it makes difference you have freedom to speak or prisoned by intimidation
it makes difference it gives effect or just a long boring speech
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Swans l
Unruffled, they sailed the seas
their wings set proudly back on racks of air
stiffly but fluently, blown by the breeze
quasi-mechanically
showing all the world no care;
or like a canon with twin, similar themes
that ether-tread the air on one another's
scruffled moccasins, like brothers
heel, in file, shore to shore.
Now back and forth, they swing
placid, in my mind, drawing dreams on dream
ribbons and spider-tethers wound in their bills-
sole and only labor due them:
freer than ducks at carnivals
although they never sing
for that would mean that death's come, so they go
drifting mutely, studying their faces in the quick
dipping a dripping head below
in liquid jade.
I recall one sorry soul
council insinserity,
I so young, by riverside: vessels of treachery
that haul unwary children down
to walk the murky bottoming and drown
like Gulliver bound up
in sodden reed to helpless fixity-
yet, of treachery they seemed to me
Guiltless....
poem by Morgan Michaels
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