And I think he's been very keen to do that.
quote by Robbie Coltrane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Roys Keen
(go on !)
Hes romancing you
And chancing his arm
Hell be here
Smiling on time
Hes romancing you
And chancing his arm
Hell be here
Smiling on time
Roys keen oh roys keen
Roys keen oh roys keen
Weve never seen a
Keener window-cleaner
Back up the ladder
Into each corner
Dunking the chamois
Just think of the goodwill
The ladders a planet
Roy is a star, and
I am a satellite
(but thats alright)
He can hold a smile for as long
As you require (even longer)
He can hold a smile for as long
As you require (even longer)
Roys keen oh roys keen
Roys keen oh roys keen
Weve never seen a
Keener window-cleaner
Back up the ladder
Into each corner
Dunking the chamois
Just think of the goodwill
The ladders a planet
Roy is a star, and
I am a satellite
I will be set alight
Dont say youll hold it steady
Then you let it go
Dont say youll hold it steady
Then you let it go
Oh ...
Youre up the ladder
Into each corner
Foot in a bucket
We trust you to wreck it
Even when its under your nose
Well, you just cant
See it, can you ?
Well, its here
Right under your nose
And you just cant
See it, can you?
La la la la ...
Roys keen, roys keen
La la la la ...
Roys keen, roys keen
La la la la ...
Roys keen, roys keen
La la la la ...
Roys keen, roys keen
Weve never seen a
Keener window-cleaner
Oh ...
La la la la ...
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Ophelia: You are keen my lord, you are keen.
Hamlet: It would cost you a groaning to take off mine edge.
line from Hamlet by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Spanish | In Italian | In Romanian
Listening and thinking
A good speaker is a bad listener.
A batsman is keen in watching.
A bowler is keen in throwing.
The bad listener hardly learns.
The good listener hardly thinks.
28.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Am Restless
I am restless. I am athirst for far-away things.
My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance.
O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore.
I am eager and wakeful, I am a stranger in a strange land.
Thy breath comes to me whispering an impossible hope.
Thy tongue is known to my heart as its very own.
O Far-to-seek, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that I know not the way, that I have not the winged horse.
I am listless, I am a wanderer in my heart.
In the sunny haze of the languid hours, what vast vision of thine takes shape in the blue of the sky!
O Farthest end, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that the gates are shut everywhere in the house where I dwell alone!
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Joyous And Exhilarated By Factories
I am keen, exhilarated by commanders so joyous,
Transported by ecstasy, and honeymooned by success,
The extreme weather carries a piquancy much desired
For the human heart and lungs, the organs of ravishment.
Raw success is cunning, it is keen as I am,
I am fortunate to reacquire it, so reactants are joyous,
May the felicity and joy be cylinders of love,
To construct and fuel the factories of real snugness.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Rough Sketch
I caught, for a second, across the crowd--
Just for a second, and barely that--
A face, pox-pitted and evil-browed,
Hid in the shade of a slouch-rim'd hat--
With small gray eyes, of a look as keen
As the long, sharp nose that grew between.
And I said: 'Tis a sketch of Nature's own,
Drawn i' the dark o' the moon, I swear,
On a tatter of Fate that the winds have blown
Hither and thither and everywhere--
With its keen little sinister eyes of gray,
And nose like the beak of a bird of prey!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Deer Tracks....
my poetry is not
the kind of tracks that deers
put upon the grass
that each
tread upon
you do not have the kind
of nose that dogs have
your sense of smell is not
that keen enough
to say that i am inside
the confines of
every word in every
poem
deers
those wild ones
are too keen
to sense even the
disturbance of the sands
by a lost worm
it skips and jumps
over the river and the next time
you see it
it has become another
mirage
in the desert
do not trace any part of
me in the past
for i am no longer there
i could be that
deer
at the other side of the
river
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To A Cricket
Voice of summer, keen and shrill,
Chirping round my winter fire,
Of thy song I never tire,
Weary others as they will,
For thy song with summer's filled -
Filled with sunshine, filled with June;
Firelight echo of that noon
Heard in fields when all is stilled
In the golden light of May,
Bringing scents of new-mown hay,
Bees, and birds, and flowers away,
Prithee, haunt my fireside still,
Voice of summer, keen and shrill.
poem by William Cox Bennett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You, as I know.
You, full of guilt,
Extremely shy,
And prone to shiver.
You,
Full of passion,
Strong in emotion
And still placid in vision.
You,
Good at desk,
Lazy in house works
Or in domestic cores.
You,
At ease with brain
But less so with limbs
And in manuals.
You,
For being admired
And pampered
Rather than vice versa.
You,
keen to be fondled
And to be nestled
But in no way to requite.
You,
Eager to be dotted on
By any in position
And not keen in repetition.
You,
Not one enticing
Nor one yielding
But choosy for entertaining.
You,
Discreet to foster me,
Me not the only one
But not a festered one.
You,
Who fully I know,
Accordingly I befit
And shall keep aloft.
You,
The apple of my aye,
Is kept bouncing and buoyant
By me, myself thus vibrant.
You,
Who can’t be apart,
Are in me a part
And July twelfth can’t part.
07.07.99
[a send off]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Keen to be green
I’m keen to be green like you
Though I haven't got a clue
But please don’t recycle me
Or I’ll go from green to blue
I want this planet to keep on spinning
Because with you I feel I’m winning
When I close my eyes I see those arrows
Maybe that triangle will save the sparrows
Being green is really joyful
When we’re down and getting coital
I love the way you tug your hair
When you rant about species that are rare
Because of you I ditched my car
Gone are holidays that are too far
I’ve learned to embrace being frugal
But recycled toilet paper is really brutal
Because we signed up to Kyoto
Eating meat is now a no-no
But lentils are no good for greenhouse gases
And hemp clothing is really sackcloth and ashes
I’m getting with all the green lingo
Because you are the end of my rainbow
Please don’t throw it all away
I want to be with you till doomsday
I’m keen to be green like you
Though I haven't got a clue
But please don’t recycle me
Or I’ll go from green to blue
poem by Sam Street
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You can know what's in your life when you know what's in your heart.
To be on a quest is nothing more or less than to become an asker of questions.
I'm in my 80s and not a keen television fan.
quote by Nigel Kneale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I was so keen to get back to sea. I was rattled.
quote by Lord Mountbatten
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I have always been a very keen walker, though, and I often took a camera with me on my walks.
quote by Fay Godwin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Keen at the start, but careless at the end.
quote by Cornelius Tacitus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Dandenong
Hard by the gate-way of the East
She dips within her market square
With provender for man and beast,
And goods and chattels round her there.
A cheery, buxom market dame,
A well-filled basket on her arm,
She calls her wares and makes due claim
Alike on factory and farm.
The neutral ground of her domain
Is loud with talk of crops and herds,
Where hucksters bargain for their gain
With judgment keen and weighted words;
Where sunburnt farmers, slow of speech,
Match wits with dapper city men
While she impartially from each
Takes toll and bids them come again.
With talk of rise and fall in stock,
With keen eyes for a horse's points,
The shrewd-eyed dealers hither flock
To peer in mouths and handle joints.
And shake their heads and turn away,
Then back again to name the price;
And jokes are mixed on market day
With loud-mouthed praise and sage advice.
Hard by the Western gate she sits,
Between the farmland and the town,
To gather all the scraps and bits
Of gossip that fly up and down;
And these she turns to her own good
A comfortable dame and keen,
Who earns an honest livelihood
As town and country go-between.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!