Almost every other Western in the last ten years has failed, since Dances with Wolves.
quote by Lawrence Kasdan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
I guess after Dances With Wolves they probably tried some derivative westerns, and if they didn't work, they said the western is dead and moved on to something else.
quote by Tom Selleck
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jeane
Jeane
The low-life has lost its appeal
And i'm tired of walking these streets
To a room with its cupboards bare
Jeane
I'm not sure what happiness means
But i look in your eyes
And i know
Oh ...
That it isn't there
Oh, we tried, and we failed
Oh, we tried, and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried
Oh, jeane
There's ice on the sink where we bathe
So how can you call this a home
When you know it's a grave ?
Yet you still have that greedy grace
As you tidy the place
But it will never be clean
Jeane
We tried and we failed
We tried, and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried and we failed
And we tried
Oh ...
Cash on the nail
It's just a fairytale
Oh ...
And i don't believe in magic anymore
Jeane
But i think you know
I really think you know
Oh ...
Oh yes, i think you know the truth
Jeane
Oh ...
No heavenly choirs
Not for me and not for you
Because i think you know
I really think you know
Oh ...
I think you know the truth
Oh, jeane
We tried, and we failed
We tried, and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried
song performed by by Smiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like A Lonely Bird
What is now covering my eyes? !
What is now blocking my way?
For there is something wrong somewhere because,
You failed to call me;
And like thirteen years in hell and seven years at home.
You failed to call me and i don't know why;
And, i am now like a lonely bird without a nest!
But, i need you around me to solve my problems.
Mine oh mine! ! !
You failed to call me since all these years;
And all these while i was there lonely waiting for you,
But, who will be there for me when you are gone forever?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Winter Wolves Are Coming
The Winter Wolves are coming
They are drawing ever near
The Winter Wolves are coming
They smell our blood, our fear
The Winter Wolves are coming
In packs of hundreds and more
The Winter Wolves are coming
They are knocking at our door
The Winter Wolves are coming
With teeth as sharp as knives
The Winter Wolves are coming
They mean to take our lives
The Winter wolves are coming
The smell our blood, our fear
The Winter Wolves are coming
The Cold of Death is here.
poem by Tim Vallie
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As I have pointed out, it is the Christian tradition that is the most fundamental element in Western culture. It lies at the base not only of Western religion, but also of Western morals and Western social idealism.
quote by Christopher Dawson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Foolish Life
What a foolish life I've lived!
I loved and failed...
and loved again and failed;
I tried to unlove but failed.
And what a foolish life to live!
I looked back to my wasted years
and knew there'd be no wasted tears
from you...from the only one
I tried to unlove but failed.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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I May Have Years To Go
I MAY HAVE YEARS TO GO
I may have years to go-
Many many years
In which I will continue to fail
In the same way
I have failed
In the many more years before.
The truth is
God could give me hundreds of years more
I would still be capable
Only of being myself -
Blessed are those given the gift of greatness by God
And long-troubled those who would be given it
And are not.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Throw Them Back To The Wolves
Throw them back to the wolves.
The ones released from cellblock envy.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Those who love their crime defined.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Those who break laws all the time.
With nothing but 'bling' on their minds.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Trouble makers showing butt.
Groom to believe they should give it up.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Victims of their own disguises.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Raised on 'rap' and packing 'heat'.
Dimmed with wit is their destiny...
This was how they were raised to be.
Detoxed and recovered.
From baubles, beads and bangles hanging.
Some don't want to have another...
Victimizing chain of gold,
To prove to anyone they're bold.
Leaving streets to the others.
Those who choose to do their 'thing'
From swagger punted schoolyard swings...
And learning from demented idols.
Who could care less who is destressed.
Throw them back to the wolves.
The ones released from cellblock envy.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Those who love their crime defined.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Those who break laws all the time.
With nothing but 'bling' on their minds.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Trouble makers showing butt.
Groom to believe they should give it up.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Victims of their own disguises.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Raised on 'rap' and packing 'heat'.
Dimmed with wit is their destiny...
This was how they were raised to be.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Boo doo doo boo doo boo boo doo.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Boo doo boo doo boo do boo do!
Throw them back to the wolves.
Boo doo doo boo doo boo boo doo.
Throw them back to the wolves.
Boo doo boo doo boo do boo do!
Throw them back to the wolves.
That's the way they'll always like it.
With the others in cellblocks...
Locked out!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They have had three years to get a resolution and they failed. Both of these guys have failed.
quote by Marcel Dionne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Song
When I came here I came here
I just came here to find
That one little girl
That is hidden behind
That old mill that old mill
That old mill out back
She's in that field In that field
In that field out back
And she dances and dances
Without anything wrong
She just dances and dances
To that same old song
Behind closed doors
She can't feel that much joy
As tears and tears pour
As tears and tears pour
But as she dances
She dances with stars the above
She's small but she can reach out
That far into love
And when everything's wrong
She will still be dancing
To her favorite song her favorite song.
You'd believe that girl
But not her world.
Or see her face
When she cries everyday
Or know what to do
When you know what she's been through
And I can't believe
Now what I see
Cause she dances and dances
Without anything wrong
She just dances and dances
To that same old song
Behind closed doors
She can't feel that much joy
As tears and tears pour
As tears and tears pour
But as she dances
And dances with stars above
She's small but she can reach out
That far into love
And when everything's wrong
She will still be dancing
To her favorite song.
And when she dances she dances
To her favorite song
She dances and dances
Because nothing is wrong
And when she dances
She reaches out far into love
She dances and dances
With the stars above
And even though she's small
She can make it through it all
She's as joyful as can be
When you see you'll believe
That nothing is wrong
When she is dancing to
Her favorite song.
poem by Mystykka Mysterious
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Mad Wolves
Wolves running wild
Beast and beauty,
Howling full moon instigates
The dead to rise above
And watch us as to
Try and cause some
Paranoid state so we
Don’t disturb their eternal
Bliss.
These wolves,
Mad wolves, brute in
Nature.
Howling at full moon they
Are transformed in beauty and
Beastly eloquent hunting manner,
The calling of the dead to rise.
These wolves, dead wolves
And humans too kill to
Survive.
Then sleep
When the sun rises over Atlantic
Coast.
poem by Randy Briggs
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Now You're Here
No, we don’t care where you come from
Now you’re here
No, we don’t care where you come from
Have a beer
We don’t care if you are black or white or
Of another hue
Now you’re here in Western Sydney
Now you’re part of Western Sydney
Now all over Western Sydney
We love you.
We are very proud of our diversity
Out on the streets it’s very clear to see
We don’t care if you’re a Christian or a Jew
Or a Bhuddist or Islamic or Hindu
‘Cos we don’t care where you come from
We don’t care where you come from
We don’t care where you come from
Now you’re here.
We’re very proud of long history
And we pay respect to Aborigines
And there’s just one thing I’ll tell ya
Yes, to you and other fellas
That we don’t care where you come from
Now you’re here.
No, we don’t care where you come from
Now you’re here
No, we don’t care where you come from
Have a beer
We don’t care if you are black or white or
Of another hue
Now you’re here in Western Sydney
Now you’re part of Western Sydney
Now all over Western Sydney
We love you.
We’re proud of where we are going
You can see
We’re using all our creativity
To build a better future
And we’ll get there soon we betcha
‘Cos we don’t care where you come from
Now you’re here.
No, we don’t care where you come from
Have a beer
We don’t care if you are black or white or
Another hue
Now you’re here in Western Sydney
Now you’re part of Western Sydney
Now all over Western Sydney
We love you.
Now you’re here in Western Sydney
Now you’re part of Western Sydney
Now all over Western Sydney
We love you.
poem by David Keig
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Easter Goddess
The Easter Goddess and the customs of men,
I am a sheep among the wolves! !
But why have all the churches failed to read, 'Jeremiah 10: 1-10'?
For the image of jealousy is at the entrance of your door.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Everybody Dance (The Dance Of The Dead)
As the sun sinks upon the horizon,
As the dark night creeps in,
The dead dance.
On the streets they roam,
Silent,
Alone.
Everybody dances,
The saints and the sinners,
Everybody dances,
To the sound of the rhythm,
Everybody dances,
The dance of the dead.
The dance of the dead goes on,
And on,
Never stops,
Never slows,
Time does not matter to the dead.
Everybody dances,
The poor and the rich,
Everybody dances,
To the cries to the babies,
Everybody dances,
The dance of the dead.
As your time goes up,
The dead dance into your room,
Filled with silent movements,
They twirl with grace,
And style
And ease.
They reach out their hands,
And you take it,
And join the dance of the dead.
Everybody dance,
The young and the old,
Everybody dance,
The music is playing,
Everybody dance,
To the dance of the dead.
C’mon,
Everybody dance,
Soldiers and lovers,
Oh,
Everybody dance,
To sound they cry,
So,
Everybody dance,
To the dance of the dead,
The dance of the dead.
Oh,
Everybody dances,
Because the dance never stops.
6/05/06
poem by Charlie F. Kane
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Of course you know this difference as well as I do, only you failed to draw from it the conclusions for the tactics in Western Europe, at least as far as I am able to judge from your works.
quote by Herman Gorter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wolves
Januarys always bitter
But lord, this one beats all
The wind aint quit for weeks now
And the drifts are ten feet tall
I been all night drivin hefers
Closer in to lower ground
Then I spent the mornin thinkin
bout the ones the wolves pulled down.
Charlie barton and his family
Stopped today to say goodbye
He said the bank was takin over
The last few years were just too dry
And I promised that Id visit
When they found a place in town
Then I spent a long time thinkin
bout the ones the wolves pull down.
Lord, please shine a light of hope
On those of us who fall behind
And when we stumble in the snow
Could you help us up while theres still time.
Well, I dont mean to be complainin lord
Youve always seen mme through
And I know you got your reasons
For each and every thing you do
But tonight outside my window
Theres a lonesome, mournful sound
And I just cant keep from thinkin
bout the ones the wolves pull down.
Oh lord, keep me from bein
The one the wolves pull down
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dancer Of Swords
the dancer of swords
dances with skilled practice
long years practice preparing
the dancer of swords
dances crimson dance of death
brief moments red blood flowing
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Marry Anniversary
This a special day
many have gone
lots more to come
special moments, eventful times
memories of the years that past
from the first we met, I knew
there would not be any like you
to change my world, spark my life
create amazing adventures
survived the bad times
struggles, fights, make ups
seeing your smile and sparkling eyes
still melt me after all these years
this day brings fond memories
of our wedding day
seeing you in that beautiful wedding gown
the same one your mother was married in
seeing you walk in your fathers arms down the aisle
was like living a dream of happiness
what the future had for us
stronger and wiser we are
I wouldn't change anything
to be with you has been amazing and wonderful
spending our adult lives together was a trip
a journey many have failed, but we prevailed
I would do it all again over and over
walking arm in arm till the end of time
there no one as beautiful or as special as you
from deep in my heart and in my soul
Your the one I am forever in love with
in our later years I cherish every moment together
the many kisses, the dances, the tears and the smiles
waking up with you next to me is heaven
Many more years for you and I
Love you more now then the day I said I Do
Marry Anniversary, My dear Love
poem by Michael Peterson
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Grey Wolves Grey
The Russian march is soft and slow,
Through dust and heat, or slush and snow,
When the Russian skies hang grey and low
To the frontiers far where the Russians go;
And they march to-night and they march to-day
Like the grey wolves grey, like the grey wolves grey.
Nor song nor sound their track reveals,
Save the ceaseless “clock” of the waggon wheels;
But a rift in the mist shows a glint of sun
On the long, dark shape of a toiling gun;
And they strain by night and they drag by day
To a distant goal, like the grey wolves grey.
As the horses toil at the ends of trains,
And the ends of roads on the Blacksoil Plains.
And Ivan digs in the frozen clay,
And he rolls the logs a bed to lay
For a gun that’s five hundred miles away,
But as sure to come as the grey wolves grey.
He is marching on with a purpose grand,
For brother Slav in another land;
Whose tongue, perchance, he cannot understand.—
But he knows the cry from the far-away,
And he smells the blood like the grey wolves grey.
And Ivan’s wife in her den at home,
While hunger looms and his lean wolves come—
With her grey-black bread like the Darling mud,
And her tea-bricks bound with the bullock’s blood—
She shields her cubs by night and day
Like the crouching sluts of the grey wolves grey.
And I march with Ivan where’er he be,
With the foreign blood that is strong in me,
And the love and the hate that is fantasy,
Like the ghosts of a father’s memory.
With the blood that is strange to us to-day
As the strange wild blood of the grey wolves grey.
Grey wolves,
Grey wolves—
The strange wild blood of the grey wolves grey.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Tessa's Song
I'm sorry I failed
I'm sorry I fell
Straight from grace
I'm sorry I failed
I'm sorry I lied
Straight to your face
The world you know
Keeps getting bigger
And badder
And all that's true
And all that's good
Doesn't seem to matter
What's good and what's bad
What's right and what's wrong
Is getting harder to comprehend
And just when you think
You've figured it out
The rules are changed again
I'm sorry I failed
I'm sorry you see
All that I lack
I'm sorry I failed
And if I could
I would take it all back
It's hard to believe
This war has gone on
Since before you were born
And I worry
That it will still be raging
When you are grown
The things you see
The drugs and the sex
And you're still so young
I lie awake at night
Hoping I've shown you
Which road is the right one
I'm sorry I failed
I pray that you know
I'm doing the best I can
I'm sorry I failed
I know you will become
So much more than I am
So much time that I've wasted
So many tears that I've tasted
Knowing I'm not the best
But my love for you remains
Untouched by anything
Wondering why I've been so blessed
poem by Sarah Deen
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