I certainly don't have any airs about myself.
quote by Jamie Farr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song -- Rondeau
Finish these langours! Oh! I'm sick
Of dying airs, I know the trick;
Long since I've learn'd to well explain
Th'unmeaning cant of fire and pain,
And see through all the senseless lies
Of burning darts from killing eyes;
I'm tir'd with this continual rout
Of bowing low and leading out.
Finish, &c.
Finish this tedious dangling trade,
By which so many fools are made;
For fools they are, whom you can please
By such affected airs as these:
At opera near my box to stand,
And slyly press the given hand,
Thus may you wait whole years in vain;
But sure you would, were you in pain.
Finish, &c.
poem by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
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You With Your Airs And Graces
You with your airs and graces you do feel so proud
And you like to be seen to stand out in the crowd
And you even feel that others should bow to you
You've got a swollen ego to give you your due.
You tell everybody who wishes for to hear
of your daughter the uni professor and your son the engineer
But your husband a black sheep or so 'twould appear
Since he is a flawed person who enjoys his beer.
You with your airs and graces you do like to brag
You are known in the Town as a leading windbag
Your ego is swimming in your self conceit
Though one or two like you live on every street.
With everyone who cares to listen you like to impress
Them with your grand stories of your childrens success
But your husband you never once mention his name
He gets drunk off and on that seems human but in that you feel shame.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Rainbow Romance
Romance
to Bloom
let me wait
and watch out
When the Spring Rains;
it is
now in the sky
lustly curved
with stunning colours
just a minute
it whispers
a new tune of lies
and glues to heart
pining to see
the invisible sight
The embers
of Romance
lightens up
when the moist hearts
warmly rain
looks of Spring
full of perfumed wings
to suckle the nectar
to open up
the pot of potion
mesmerizing ocean
bodies vanish
leaving imprints
we see the lovers
kissing empty airs
seeing life images
like Rainbows
still printed
in transparent airs
poem by Lalitha Iyer
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He who gives himself airs of importance, exhibits the credentials of impotence.
A communist is a person who publicly airs his dirty Lenin.
quote by Jack Pomeroy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Londonderry
Their disagreement melted
away when she realized
he'd said 'Londonderry Airs'
and not 'London derrieres'.
poem by Saiom Shriver
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If we had to choose one American Idol to go out to dinner with, it would be Fantasia. There are no airs and graces about her... I like her.
quote by Simon Cowell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sheep and Lambs
All in the April evening,
April airs were abroad;
The sheep with their little lambs
Passed me by on the road.
The sheep with their little lambs
Passed me by on the road;
All in the April evening
I thought on the Lamb of God.
The lambs were weary and crying
With a weak, human cry.
I thought on the Lamb of God
Going meekly to die.
Up in the blue, blue mountains
Dewy pastures are sweet;
Rest for the little bodies,
Rest for the little feet.
But for the Lamb of God,
Up on the hill-top green,
Only a Cross of shame
Two stark crosses between.
All in the April evening,
April airs were abroad;
I saw the sheep with their lambs,
And thought on the Lamb of God.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Like Slinkies
Some people are a lot like slinkies
Not good for much, always puttin’ on airs
But you just can’t keep from smiling’
When you see one tumble down the stairs
poem by David Whalen
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All Are Judges
Everyone opines and airs their views.
Everyone hears and gives their judgments.
Everyone listens and prescribes advice.
His or hers is the best to him or her.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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One of the best temporary cures for pride and affectation is seasickness; a man who wants to vomit never puts on airs.
quote by Josh Billings
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On a Line from Valéry (The Gulf War)
The whole green sky is dying.The last tree flares
With a great burst of supernatural rose
Under a canopy of poisonous airs.
Could we imagine our return to prayers
To end in time before time's final throes,
The green sky dying as the last tree flares?
But we were young in judgement, old in years
Who could make peace; but it was war we chose,
To spread its canopy of poisoning airs.
Not all our children's pleas and women's fears
Could steer us from this hell.And now God knows
His whole green sky is dying as it flares.
Our crops of wheat have turned to fields of tares.
This dreadful century staggers to its close
And the sky dies for us, its poisoned heirs.
All rain was dust.Its granules were our tears.
Throats burst as universal winter rose
To kill the whole green sky, the last tree bare
Beneath its canopy of poisoned air.
poem by Carolyn Kizer
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The nearness
Closer a man and a woman become,
Their features gain acceptability.
The nearness airs the burning desire.
09.02.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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From Down The River
A HALF-BREED, slim, and sallow of face,
Alphonse lies full length on his raft,
The hardy son of a hybrid race.
Lithe and long, with the Indian grace,
Versed in the varied Indian craft,
A half-breed, slim, and sallow of face,
He nurses within mad currents that chase-
The swift, the sluggish-a foreign graft,
This hardy son of a hybrid race.
What southern airs, what snows embrace
Within his breast-soft airs that waft
The half-breed-slim, and sallow of face,
Far from the Gatineau's foaming base!
And what strong potion hath he quaffed,
This hardy son of a hybrid race,
That upon this sun-baked blistered place
He sleeps, with his hand on the burning haft,
A Metis-slim and sallow of face,
The hardy son of a hybrid race!
poem by Susan Frances Harrison
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The moon is at her full, and riding high, Floods the calm fields with light. The airs that hover in the summer sky Are all asleep tonight.
quote by William C. Bryant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From 'Down the River
Gatineau Point
A HALF-BREED, slim, and sallow of face,
Alphonse lies full length on his raft,
The hardy son of a hybrid race.
Lithe and long, with the Indian grace,
Versed in the varied Indian craft,
A half-breed, slim, and sallow of face,
He nurses within mad currents that chase–
The swift, the sluggish–a foreign graft,
This hardy son of a hybrid race.
What southern airs, what snows embrace
Within his breast–soft airs that waft
The half-breed–slim, and sallow of face,
Far from the Gatineau's foaming base!
And what strong potion hath he quaffed,
This hardy son of a hybrid race,
That upon this sun-baked blistered place
He sleeps, with his hand on the burning haft,
A Metis–slim and sallow of face,
The hardy son of a hybrid race!
poem by Susie Frances Harrison
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The poverty from which I have suffered could be diagnosed as ""Soho"" poverty. It comes from having the airs and graces of a genius and no talent.
quote by Quentin Crisp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You must in all Airs follow the strength, spirit, and disposition of the horse, and do nothing against nature; for art is but to set nature in order, and nothing else.
quote by William Cavendish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Siesta
FROM THE SPANISH.
Vientecico murmurador,
Que lo gozas y andas todo, &c.
Airs, that wander and murmur round,
Bearing delight where'er ye blow!
Make in the elms a lulling sound,
While my lady sleeps in the shade below.
Lighten and lengthen her noonday rest,
Till the heat of the noonday sun is o'er.
Sweet be her slumbers! though in my breast
The pain she has waked may slumber no more.
Breathing soft from the blue profound,
Bearing delight where'er ye blow,
Make in the elms a lulling sound,
While my lady sleeps in the shade below.
Airs! that over the bending boughs,
And under the shade of pendent leaves,
Murmur soft, like my timid vows
Or the secret sighs my bosom heaves,--
Gently sweeping the grassy ground,
Bearing delight where'er ye blow,
Make in the elms a lulling sound,
While my lady sleeps in the shade below.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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Park
O children
Go and play
This park is
Waiting for you.
Go and find
Birds airs
Flowers colours
Waiting for you.
Go and search
Your line
Your place
And where are you.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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