I am in Boston right now, in fact, to do work at the New England Historical Genealogical Library, where I'm trying to finish up tracing my lineage back to the seventeenth century.
quote by Rick Moody
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Open Book's Monologue Part 5: Welcome To The Library!
Welcome to the library! come one come all
Welcome to the library! come with your brethren on this wall
Welcome to the library! come all you books tattered or new
Welcome to the library! come tired and overdue
Yes welcome to the library the place where you're most mundane
Yes welcome to the library the place where you're to endure most pain
Yes welcome to the library where you'll sit unwanted
Yes welcome to the library where you'll sit haunted
Yes welcome to the library where everyone's just like you
Yes welcome to the library where we're all books too!
Yes welcome to the library where you can take comfort
Yes welcome to the library where In the fact you're no longer unique
Yes welcome to the library You're just pen marks ink
Departing the library? I think not, even if you get out we'll bring you back
Departing the library? Here you rot, but we'll dust you to ease your passing
Departing the library? Don't make me laugh, here you're black and white
Departing the library? Nobody argues on your behalf, look more amassing
Welcome to the library! A place of keeping and safety
Welcome to the library! Take your place you'll like it, just wait and see
Welcome to the library! New books don't mind the old they're disillusioned
Welcome to the library! You've sold your soul... but it's too late for you
so WELCOME
poem by David Knox
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No, this customary aim of research by excavators is completely foreign to the historical work with which I am occupied... my sole and only aim is to be able to establish a historical fact, on which I disagree with some eminent historians and geographers.
quote by Heinrich Schliemann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was very much into buying contemporary art, but I've just decided I want to get rid of it all. Not that it's not great art, but all of a sudden my mood has changed, and I want to go back to seventeenth- and eighteenth-century masters.
quote by Sylvester Stallone
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Though my books are written from a historical perspective, I have goon so far back that I am in the realm of prehistorical speculation rather than simple historical fact to weave my stories around.
quote by Jean M. Auel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boston
Where the ferries come to shore
She never really knew how good it would feel
To finally find herself in a place so warm and real
She wears a Red Sox cap
To hide her baby dreads
The girl she was in New England
Is different now and dead
In all the local bars
She flirts and tells the boys while they're talkin'
She's from Boston
She comes from Boston
Talks to her family now and then
Through e-mails and postcards
She tries to explain to them
That education and occupation will have to wait for now
She loves the Rasta, reggae rhythms, her dreams have changed somehow
She wears a Red Sox cap
To hide her baby dreads
The girl she was in New England
Is different now and dead
In all the local bars
She flirts and tells the boys while they're talkin'
She's from Boston
Her toes dig deep and deeper in the sand
She's seduced by the sunsets and her new life at hand
She wears a Red Sox cap
To hide her baby dreads
The girl she was in New England
Is different now and dead
In all the local bars
She flirts and tells the boys while they're talkin'
She's from Boston
She wears a Red Sox cap
To hide her baby dreads
From Boston
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The poetry from the eighteenth century was prose; the prose from the seventeenth century was poetry.
quote by David Hare
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When I was at Stratford, the very first thing that I was commissioned to work on was trying to make a musical out of the documentary material about the General Strike, which was the next big historical event in England, after the First World War.
quote by Trevor Nunn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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However, I survived and started to read all chemistry books that I could get a hand on, first some 19th century books from our home library that did not provide much reliable information, and then I emptied the rather extensive city library.
quote by Richard Ernst
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Almost everything that distinguishes the modern world from earlier centuries is attributable to science, which achieved its most spectacular triumphs in the seventeenth century.
quote by Bertrand Russell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The World Looks Upon Us With Worried Eyes
look at us who want to really finish the work
this afternoon
look at us being looked at the world with
worried eyes
it is reminding that if we finish this work
on time
the work shall soon finish us
earlier than expected
look at this world that looks down upon us
it is not sleeping
it keeps reminding that there is no apocalypse
of earth and rock
the sun will always be there until it finds us all gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Work!
Work or no luck
If you don't have work
You get killed sitting still
Work or no luck
If you have too much work
You get killed struggling still
Work or no luck
If you finish fast
You get killed killing time
Work or no luck
If you don't finish on time
You get finished on time
Work or no luck
If you do well
You get recognized well
Work or no luck
If you do not do well
You get the pink paper wall
Work or no luck
If you are organized
You finish it on time
Work or no luck
If you are disorganized
You get finished on time
Work or no luck
If you are interested
Toughest becomes easy
Work or no luck
If you are not interested
Easiest thing becomes toughest
Work or no luck
If you are carving
You keep doing it great
Work or no luck
If you are not carving
You keep doing it a trait
Work or no luck
If you have work
You have luck
Work or no luck
If you have work
Still nothing to do
You have no luck
That's the fate of
Work or luck! ! ! !
poem by Umasree Raghunath
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Pastors
'New Vision Party' led by Pastors,
They are now into the political race to stand for a President;
But what have they done to the collection plates? ! !
Of the genealogical history of the heavens,
Of the genealogical history of the earth,
The light is day and the darkness is night;
So try to gain wisdom on this issue before it is too late!
For the collection plates are not even enough for these Pastors.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Itching Stays
Conceiving of love as an ocean of felicity, I sprang to bathe in it;
Then looking back, I felt sorrows getting about to wind around me.
I wonder whoever has created this clear-watered lake of love!
My heart’s pretty shaking: here roam the insects of grief forever.
My elders’ reproaches feel as lichens, neighbors as catfishes,
And my lineage like thorny water-chestnuts floating far and wide.
Waterworts my blemishes against me; it’s tough to drink from here.
In and outside of me the itching stays, God brought grief into joys.
Says Chandidas, “O Beautiful, grief and happiness are two brothers;
Grief goes to whoever falls in love with happiness, lured by it.”
Translator’s Note:
I translated this poem by Chandidas a few days back but it’s better for you to count on this translation as a draft on which I may have to work a bit as well. The following information about the poet is from Wikipedia:
Chandidas (born 1408 CE) refers to (possibly more than one) a medieval poet of Bengal. Verse written by at least four different Chandidas have been found, and it is not clear whether they refer to the same person or not. The name Chandidas is usually attributed to Baru Chandidas, who has been more or less indentified as a historical figure born in the 14th century. He was born in Birbhum district of what is now West Bengal. Chandidas wrote the lyrical Srikrishna Kirtan (Songs in Praise of Krishna) .
poem by Sofiul Azam
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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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Life's End
Then life was a wonderful happiness,
If its commencement was fulfilled by soceity,
If its finish was not of unhappiness
And the ending was its finish,
The very same as Fate.
One loved the purpose of existing on the World
As we were thrust headlong into peril of work
Yet made a finish.
The perils are to demand a finish,
and leave us with splendour,
To find Height at the Heaven.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Payment
A tortuous path of neurons arced a call: ‘Awake! ’
I did; in rising, peering, stretching, bearing,
Pained anticipation saw it all:
Foretold, another filthy day.
I drew the drape: diluvian lay the ground
Beneath a lazy leaden cloud – apissing out
The puddles; irksome on the roof –
The drumming drops of bitter glee
Were hounding out a hapless me –
Reinforcing doubt that I am sound.
I left the house
to go to work
to earn a crust
without a perk
then on to bust
another straining vessel.
Trudging on thro’ mud and clay, I pondered:
‘Why a drought of happy times?
Auspicious climes were
Old and fusty books
Atop a dusty shelf
Inside a morgue-of-a-room,
Somewhere in a long-forgotten library
Down a lane without a way.’
I thought again: ‘And still I pay.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
O how I
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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We have gotten away from this double aspect of either putting the character back into historical events or of making a historical event of his very life.
quote by Raymond Queneau
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Finish What You Started
(m. malamet/a. roboff/a. lang/d. lambert)
So, near yet so far
Thats how it is
Oh, thats how you are
What more can I do?
These walls wont let me get through
But if I know you, you will
Chorus:
Finish what you started
Youll come back to me
I know its gonna feel, baby
Like it used to be
So finish what you started
I will wait for you
I know where I stand
A fool for your love
Oh, thats what I am
Im losin control
Youre down too deep in my soul
To let you go, wont ya
(repeat chorus)
Im standing here shakin
Wonderin if you let me in
Oh, dont watch my heart breakin
Knowing what we could have been
What more can I do?
Your heart just wont let me through
But if I know you (finish what you started)
And I think I know you, baby (finish what you started)
And you can really show me if
You finish what you started
Youll come back to me
I know its gonna feel, baby
Like it used to be
So finish what you started
I will wait for you
I will wait for you (ahh)
Finish what you started
Im gonna wait for you
Finish what you started
Dont you keep me waitin (ohhh)
Finish what you started (ohhh)
Finish what you started
Youll come back to me
I know its gonna feel baby
Like it used to be
So finish what you started
I will wait for you
song performed by by Lea Salonga
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I love England and the historical aspect of it.
quote by Dennis Farina
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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