For better or worse, MTV sort of bridges the whole country together almost like the BBC does in England. It's opened up everything so wide that it's possible for everyone to have different ideas.
quote by Joey Ramone
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Related quotes
The Song Of An Emigrant
Far away! O far away,
Over the wide sea's bounding spray,
Many a league o'er the pelting foam.
We seek a country, we seek a home!
Farewell, England! our native land,
Lingering still on thy verdant strand,
We look our last on thy once-loved shore,
And vow in our hearts to return no more.
Far away! O far away!
Nothing invites us here to stay.
England, our mother, is hard as stone,
And shuts her ear to her children's moan,
And running on to destruction sure,
Pampers the rich, and grinds the poor!
Farewell, England! A last farewell!
We fly thy shores, but we wish thee well.
Far away! O far away!
We seek a world o'er the ocean spray.
Welcome, O land across the sea,
Where bread is plenty, and man is free;
Welcome, the woods and deserts drear,
And boundless fields of another sphere.
Our sails are set, and the breezes swell,
England, Our country--Farewell! Farewell!
poem by Charles Mackay
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Ripoff
I don't wanna be no traitor to the cause
But England is a luxury - not many can afford
There's people going under - it's getting out of hand
Whatever happened to our - our green and pleasant land?
It turned into a wilderness; it turned into a third world country
Most people ain't getting what they pay for
Some people gettin' more than they should be
I know, I know - I'm an alien - but what are you gonna do
I wanna live in England - but it gets to you
It gets to you, it gets to you, it gets to you
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
I really don't know why - England wants to rip off you
England wants to rip off you, England wants to rip off you
What do you do when you find out?
Where do you go if you leave?
There's no place like home - that's what they say
And that's what you always believed
Someday you might win the Lottery
Someday you might win the Pools
But that's all you've got - that's all you've got
- to live for, to live for
That's all you've got - that's all you've got -
to live for, to live for (yeah)
To be or not to be - that's the question
Oh what's it gonna be?
I'd love to live in England - but it gets to me
it gets to me, it gets to me, yeah it gets to me
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
I really don't know why - England wants to rip off you
England wants to rip off you, England wants to rip off you
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
Oh I really don't know why - England wants to rip off
England wants to rip off , England wants to rip o
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Wide Brown Country
To the wide brown country the Seasons come and go
South in South Australia where the Murray flow
Through the wide brown country where the brown dust fly
When the gales are rushing down the southern sky.
In the wide brown country woods not there to see
Where the mighty Murray crawls on towards the sea
Through the bone dry paddocks that are never green
Mother Nature in this landscape in her brown only seen.
Where the black tribes fished and hunted centuries ago
Little of their culture others seem to know
Through the wide brown country they travelled far and wide
And theirs was a great culture but their culture with them died.
In the wide brown country wildering flowers are rare
And the sun parched paddocks always looking bare
And where only the hardiest can hope to survive
Emu, wombat and wallaby and grey roo seem to thrive.
In the wide brown country where the Murray flow
Onwards towards the ocean onwards ever slow
And the grass is growing brown even where the rains have been
In that brown old country that man has failed to green.
poem by Francis Duggan
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No... I Can Not Believe It
You've got my nose opened wide.
Wider than the sea,
And...
I can not believe I let you do this to me.
You've got my nose opened wide.
So wide people see.
And...
I can not believe I let you do this to me.
Wherever I go...
I know that this shows.
And...
I can not believe I let you do this to me.
I know it is exposed,
That you opened my nose!
And...
I can not believe I let you do this to me.
I walk on tip-toes,
With my eyes half closed.
And...
I can not believe I let you do this to me.
No...
I can not believe I let you do this to me.
I walk on tip-toes,
With an opened nose.
And...
I can not believe I let you do this to me.
And with my eyes closed too?
No...
I can not believe I let you do this to me.
No...
I can not believe it that you did this to me.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I had a place in England and was commuting from England to Australia, which is pretty stupid, but after two years I sort of knew what I wanted to do, more or less.
quote by Diane Cilento
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Rotterdam
I
I gaze upon a city,—
A city new and strange,—
Down many a watery vista
My fancy takes a range;
From side to side I saunter,
And wonder where I am;
And can you be in England,
And I at Rotterdam!
II
Before me lie dark waters
In broad canals and deep,
Whereon the silver moonbeams
Sleep, restless in their sleep;
A sort of vulgar Venice
Reminds me where I am;
Yes, yes, you are in England,
And I'm at Rotterdam.
III
Tall houses with quaint gables,
Where frequent windows shine,
And quays that lead to bridges,
And trees in formal line,
And masts of spicy vessels
From western Surinam,
All tell me you're in England,
But I'm in Rotterdam.
IV
Those sailors, how outlandish
The face and form of each!
They deal in foreign gestures,
And use a foreign speech;
A tongue not learn'd near Isis,
Or studied by the Cam,
Declares that you're in England,
And I'm at Rotterdam.
V
And now across a market
My doubtful way I trace,
Where stands a solemn statue,
The Genius of the place;
And to the great Erasmus
I offer my salaam;
Who tells me you're in England,
But I'm at Rotterdam.
VI
The coffee-room is open—
I mingle in its crowd,—
The dominos are noisy—
The hookahs raise a cloud;
The flavor, none of Fearon's,
That mingles with my dram,
Reminds me you're in England,
And I'm at Rotterdam.
VII
Then here it goes, a bumper—
The toast it shall be mine,
In schiedam, or in sherry,
Tokay, or hock of Rhine;
It well deserves the brightest,
Where sunbeam ever swam—
'The Girl I love in England'
I drink at Rotterdam!
poem by Thomas Hood
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The Rivers Too Wide
(morrison)
The rivers too wide now for crossing
The waters rush too loud for talking
We never build bridges for walking
cause the rivers too wide
A gentle stream once flowed between us
But love could cross it easily
Till stormy skies brought bitter teardrops
And made that stream a raging river
Come between you and me
The rivers too wide now for crossing
The waters rush too loud for talking
We never build bridges for walking
Theres no getting to the other side
The rivers too wide now for crossing
The current goes too deep for mending
It looks like an unhappy ending
cause the rivers too wide
Good lessons learned are not forgotten
We gave up love to save our pride
Next time Im faced with rising waters
Ill build a bridge of love and kindness
Reaching to the other side
The rivers too wide now for crossing
The waters rush too loud for talking
We never build bridges for walking
Theres no getting to the other side
The rivers too wide now for crossing
The current goes too deep for mending
It looks like an unhappy ending
cause the rivers too wide
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Then we did what we called basically I suppose a club tour in England, which was the time I think that our second album came out, we club toured around the whole country where the venues were hold to five hundreds upwards to that sort of thing you know.
quote by John Deacon
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I finished my studies in England, I opened my studio in London, and the first one-man exhibit I had on Bond Street, which was opened by the Austrian ambassador.
quote by Felix de Weldon
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Making films is sort of like you're pulling off a magic trick. It's sort of like an illusion. It's not real but you want it to appear real, and all kinds of things go into that, from the clothes you're wearing to the make-up, to the light.
quote by Jeff Bridges
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To begin with, you must realize that any idea accepted by the brain is automatically transformed into an action of some sort. It may take seconds or minutes or longer - but ideas always produce a reaction of some sort.
quote by Scott Reed
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Echoing Light
When I was beginning to read I imagined
that bridges had something to do with birds
and with what seemed to be cages but I knew
that they were not cages it must have been autumn
with the dusty light flashing from the streetcar wires
and those orange places on fire in the pictures
and now indeed it is autumn the clear
days not far from the sea with a small wind nosing
over dry grass that yesterday was green
the empty corn standing trembling and a down
of ghost flowers veiling the ignored fields
and everywhere the colors I cannot take
my eyes from all of them red even the wide streams
red it is the season of migrants
flying at night feeling the turning earth
beneath them and I woke in the city hearing
the call notes of the plover then again and
again before I slept and here far downriver
flocking together echoing close to the shore
the longest bridges have opened their slender wings
poem by William Stanley Merwin
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When Tragedy Strikes
when tragedy strikes
sometimes it is worse
to be resident overseas
living in another country
far from shores of beloved
family friends relatives
yes sometimes it is worse
than being in other parts
of city or in own country
other countries are suddenly
far far away harder to get home
when tragedy signals return
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Composed By The Sea-Side, Near Calais, August 1802
FAIR Star of evening, Splendour of the west,
Star of my Country!--on the horizon's brink
Thou hangest, stooping, as might seem, to sink
On England's bosom; yet well pleased to rest,
Meanwhile, and be to her a glorious crest
Conspicuous to the Nations. Thou, I think,
Should'st be my Country's emblem; and should'st wink,
Bright Star! with laughter on her banners, drest
In thy fresh beauty. There! that dusky spot
Beneath thee, that is England; there she lies.
Blessings be on you both! one hope, one lot,
One life, one glory!--I, with many a fear
For my dear Country, many heartfelt sighs,
Among men who do not love her, linger here.
poem by William Wordsworth
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Wide To Receive
Download something
Useful, or useless
Because Im lying here
Wide to receive
Almost anything
Youd care to give
And I dont
Get along with myself
And Im not too keen
On anyone else
Turn on, plug in
Then just walk away
Unlock, process
And then just go
And Ive never felt quite so alone
As I do right now
Im lying here
Wide to receive
Almost anything
Youd care to leave
Wide, wide, wide
Wide, wide, wide
Wide, wide
Wide, wide
Wide, wide, wide, wide
Wide, wide, wide, wide
Wide, wide, wide, wide
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pro Rege Nostro
WHAT have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice again
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England: --
'Take and break us: we are yours,
England, my own!
Life is good, and joy runs high
Between English earth and sky:
Death is death; but we shall die
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
To the stars on your bugles blown!'
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies,
You could know nor dread nor ease,
Were the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song of your bugles blown, England --
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
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What Have I Done For You
What have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice agen
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England:-
'Take and break us: we are yours,
'England, my own!
'Life is good, and joy runs high
'Between English earth and sky:
'Death is death; but we shall die
'To the Song on your bugles blown,
'England -
'To the stars on your bugles blown!
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies
You could know nor dread nor ease
Were the Song on your bugles blown,
England,
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
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I saw soldiers
I saw soldiers
with eyes opened wide
who in fear, dutiful served their country.
They were only boys and moreover
unravelled from all humanity
and mechanical like an oiled machine.
Aged early, cold in heart and soul and besides
driven past madness and stripped from reason
to in fear, dutiful serve their country.
Without any glory or esteem
they assaulted the enemy challenging death
and I saw young brave soldiers.
Boys abandoning their own free will
and caught in a almost endless cycle
to in fear, dutiful serve their country
Boys who did not concede to the reasons for the war,
later sold out by politicians,
I saw as soldiers
who in fear, dutiful served their country.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The exiles
As an exile I live
in a country that despises me,
despises my whole nation, our language,
the colour of our skin
where the president
has opened the doors wide
to all of Africa,
and citizens from other countries
are more welcome here than us
but even if he tries
to drive me and my people
into the sea, as immigrants
right into the wide world,
like my ancestors
I have sprouted from this very earth
and there’s no other place
where I can make a living,
no other place that calls me
with the same intensity
and although work is being reserved
by the colour of skin
and my patience is running very thin
and I struggle to survive
in the situation that I am in
no highfalutin balderdash
of this country only belonging
to those who are black
is going to break my people or me
and still we trust God,
to change circumstances,
to change the mindset op people,
and if not to conquer and destroy
to make this country a place
in which all its citizens
have the opportunity
to make a living
and to be free in speech,
in dignity, in association,
in religious beliefs,
to live a life
according to your own culture and values.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A glimpse
a glimpse
the half opened door
some would say
a half closed door
it all depends on the
state of mind you are in
well half closed for pessismist
and half opened for optimist
half opened or half closed door
so long as it is open
and not close
a good exercise for the mind
of a story teller, novelist, a film maker
a glimpse at the half closed door
the mind is thrown open
like the kick you would give
a half opened door
so that you and pet cat could
glide through easily
the stories that start coming out
from a glimpse at the half opened door
agatha's murdered corpse lying behind
a stalker, a ghost in the corridor of the mind
from the glimpse of the half closed door
a million possibilities, ideas pouring forth
half closed door, half opened door
whichever way you may say
it is an opened door
a million stories, ideas, possibilities
knock at the door of my mind
a glimpse of the half closed, half opened door
my half closed half opened eyes
open themselves to my ever curious mind
boundless as the universe
inspired by
A Glimpse
A GLIMPSE, through an interstice caught,
Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room, around the stove,
late of a winter night-And I unremark'd seated in a corner;
Of a youth who loves me, and whom I love, silently approaching, and
seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand;
A long while, amid the noises of coming and going-of drinking and
oath and smutty jest,
There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little,
perhaps not a word.
Walt Whitman
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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