I am called Benvenuto Cellini, son of Maestro Giovanni, son of Andrea, son of Cristofano Cellini; my mother was Madonna Elisabetta, daughter to Stefano Granacci; both parents citizens of Florence.
Benvenuto Cellini in The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini (1563), translated by John Addington Symonds
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It is found written in chronicles made by our ancestors of Florence, men of old time and of credibility, even as Giovanni Villani writes, that the city of Florence was evidently built in imitation of the fair city of Rome; and certain remnants of the Colosseum and the Baths can yet be traced.
Benvenuto Cellini in The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini (1563), translated by John Addington Symonds
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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A M. Froment Meurice
Nous sommes frères : la fleur
Par deux arts peut être faite.
Le poète est ciseleur ;
Le ciseleur est poëte.
Poètes ou ciseleurs,
Par nous l'esprit se révèle.
Nous rendons les bons meilleurs,
Tu rends la beauté plus belle.
Sur son bras ou sur son cou,
Tu fais de tes rêveries,
Statuaire du bijou,
Des palais de pierreries !
Ne dis pas: «Mon art n'est rien...»
Sors de la route tracée,
Ouvrier magicien,
Et mêle à l'or la pensée !
Tous les penseurs, sans chercher
Qui finit ou qui commence,
Sculptent le même rocher :
Ce rocher, c'est l'art immense.
Michel-Ange, grand vieillard,
En larges blocs qu'il nous jette,
Le fait jaillir au hasard ;
Benvenuto nous l'émiette.
Et, devant l'art infini,
Dont jamais la loi ne change,
La miette de Cellini
Vaut le bloc de Michel-Ange.
Tout est grand ; sombre ou vermeil,
Tout feu qui brille est une âme.
L'étoile vaut le soleil ;
L'étincelle vaut la flamme.
poem by Victor Hugo
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Madonna Whore
What are you thinking when you're looking at me
What can you tell me of reality?
I'm only woman... not just a Fantasy
and the flesh and blood is warmer than some color transparency
Every woman's a Madonna; every woman's a whore
You can try to reduce me but I'm so much more
I don't want to be your mother; won't be shoved in a drawer
cause every woman's a Madonna, every woman's a whore, that's right
What are you thinking when you push me away
Was it some promise in your youth you made?
Holding out for something or hoping to be saved
Does it make you feel power or are you just afraid of me?
Every woman's a Madonna; every woman's a whore
You can try to reduce me but I'm so much more
I don't want to be your mother; won't be shoved in a drawer
cause every woman's a Madonna, every woman's a whore, that's right
I don't know
if you say so
got so many do's and don'ts my head is spinning
Hey Romeo, j-j-j-just let get go
maybe everything could use a little sinning
Every woman's a Madonna; every woman's a whore
You can try and reduce me but I'm so much more
I don't want to be your mother; won't be shoved in a drawer
cause every woman's a Madonna, every woman's a whore
Every woman's a Madonna; every woman's a whore
You can try and reduce me but I'm so much more
I don't want to be your mother; won't be shoved in a drawer
cause every woman's a Madonna, every woman's a whore, that's right
You can try to reduce me but I'm so much more
I don't want to be your mother; won't be shoved in a drawer
cause every woman's a Madonna, every woman's a whore, that's right
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tickle
I like to read confessions
As lengthy as Rousseau's,
With all their slow processions
Of innumerable woes.
I revel in Cellini,
Augustine, Amiel
Dumas's Memoirs so sheeny,
Lies no one else could tell.
I love each peccadillo
Of honest Mr. Pepys,
Confided to his pillow
Before his conscience sleeps.
But I prefer in verses
To hand my life to time:
You may forgive what worse is
For tickle of the rhyme.
poem by Gamaliel Bradford
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My parents kept the best aspects of the Asian culture, and they Americanized the family. My mother was a great example for me. She was a working mother with a good career.
quote by Andrea Jung
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Father –in-law’s and mother-in- law’s daughter is a daughter-in-law
Father –in-law’s and mother-in- law’s daughter is a daughter-in-law
In the long and short journey of life one has to read the same law,
Even the daughter-in-law should not treat with them just like a saw,
She must think that her husband’s parents are like her own parents,
Action and reaction we can see soon infront of our eyes and mind,
And every one has his or her law and so let us always live by a law,
A good son-in-law does not deserve for any kind of dowry to find,
He too considers that his wife’s parents are just like his own parents,
A daughter is born in her own family and lives in the another family,
All will weep to see the changes of her life from the starting to an end,
If that new family members are good for her she lives very happily,
Otherwise in every walk of her life she suffers and herself will tend,
All daughters have to face and face to cross the same path of life,
The Nature itself will pity on them to see their difficulty of life’s strife.
poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
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Home is the first school and mother is the first teacher
Home is the first school and mother is the first teacher
Parents are the builder of children’s characters and minds,
The mother won’t be a fighter but should be a well preacher,
If she is an illiterate she must carry her children to tuition,
Howsoever the mother should educate their children first,
And she should send her children to school daily and regularly,
Teachers are not blamed not to fulfil children’s educational thirst,
Both the parents and teachers should make them the best citizens,
As we can’t work with one hand likewise we can’t walk with one leg,
Hence, parents and teachers are the same faces of the same coin,
If parents and teachers do them careless they suffer in life to beg,
Do well and have well it is said to see your own profit in life or ruin,
That is why parents and teachers are the best artists of the child,
If an art is spoilt the statue of the child looks like an ugly and a wild.
poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
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A daughter loves her parents more than a son
A daughter loves her parents more than a son
But parents love their son more than their daughter,
After his marriage a son becomes a wicked person,
Then a son loves his wife more then his parents,
Over heard by his wife he pushes his parents out of home,
None gives them shelter in their old age except GOD,
Daughter will pity on them and she will welcome,
As they sow so shall they reap the crops,
Every one should be careful for action- re-action of life,
Today we disobey our parents tomorrow our sons re-act so,
Hence we face the same journey of our life's strife,
If we take care of our parents the same God will do,
We surely get what we do in the kingdom of God,
Carefully with guilt and virtue God has made a bod.
poem by INDIA Mazid S Kazi
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Tobacconist's daughter and chain smoker who wears a Greek Fisherman Hat!
Parents totally against their daughter's marriage
since the beginning and he never goes to work
finishes a packet of cigarette within few hours?
One night they chased him out of the premises
Otherwise they have to close the store soon.
Charming daughter like sodium bicarbonate
who soothes her parents' frequent heartburn
All of a sudden started the smoking?
The old parents called the son-in-law
and handed over the business to them
and decided to leave to a nearby apartment!
Everybody knows that the business goes well now
and both quitted smoking!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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My Real Goddess
Today my mother
Came to my house
With lots of blessing
And full of good wishing
To live long
Happy and healthy
Progressive and wealthy
My mother
My sweet mother
My beautiful mother
My loving mother
My real goddess
My ever goodness
My first lady I loved
My life my mother
My soul my mother
My God-gift my mother
My pride my mother
My aim my mother
My teacher my mother
My friend my mother
My preacher my mother
My daughter's face look-like my mother
My daughter my little mother
O the Absolute Almighty
Give me my mother
Again and again
And again and again
My mother
Only my mother.
poem by Dr. P. K. Verma
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Mother and Daughter Love
Mother and daughter love can be so fun...
A mother should love her daughter at all time
A mother have connection with her daughter
A daughter should love there mother with in and with out
A daughter should talk to her about anything with each other
A mother and daughter should love each other
That what some people call mother and daughter love.....
poem by Valentine White
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Life of Pi [trailer 2]
Suraj Sharma, Irrfan Khan, Adil Hussain, Rafe Spall, Gerard Depardieu, Suraj Sharma, Tabu, Andrea Di Stefano
by David Magee from Life of Pi (2012)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Mother And Daughter...
Mother and daughter,
Are very close,
They are best friends,
And can be enemy's sometimes,
They laugh and cry,
Call each other names,
And mess around,
And there still as close as ever,
Nothing will ruin their mother and daughter relationship,
Not even boys,
They may keep secrets,
From one another, but there still there,
to care and help,
their still mother and daughter.
Wrote about a mother and daughter love
poem by StaceyLeigh Olner
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Madonna's Old Friend
Little Italian girl would grew up to be
an international singer
and movie star on the silver screen.
Yes, Madonna would become a top pop star
she would tour the world and go quite far.
One of Madonna's NYC dancing friends
is friends with me now she is also Italian.
She was dancing in clubs with Madonna when
Penthouse did Madonna's spread—
Debra is her name and she will defend
Madonna till the end.
Debra collaged lovingly Madonna's photos
since the start of her fame
She also helped do marketing for Madonna's
line Material Girl with care just the same.
Debra is a big fan of Madonna with links
to her videos—
she also sends out links to all of her shows.
Debra admires Madonna very much so
saying 'Madonna got to where she was because
she wouldn't take a no'.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on October 3,2012
www.suzae.com www.suechevalier.com
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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When A Mother Cries
When a mother cries,
Her tears stab at her daughter’s heart
As they plummet to the floor
When a mother cries
Her daughter cries too
She cries because she does not know what is wrong
She cries because she can’t get rid of her mother’s pain
She cries most of all because she loves her mother
When a daughter cries because her mother cries
Her mother cries more
She cries because her pain has hurt her daughter
She cries because she does not want to see her daughter cry because of her
She cries most of all,
Because she loves her daughter
Once the tears have ceased however,
What remains is love
The love forever shared between a mother and a daughter
poem by Portia Lane
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A Daughter Cries
when a mother cries
her tears stab at her daughter's heart
as they plummet to the floor
when a mother cries
he daughter cries too
because her heroine is wounded and she doesn't know how or why
she cries because she cannot rid her mother of the pain
she cries most of all because she loves her mother
when a daughtrr cries because her mother cries,
her mother cries more
because her weakness has hurt her child
she cries because it hurts to know she's the cause of her daughter's tears.
she cries most of all because she loves her daughter
one the tears have ceased however
love remains
the love forever shared between a mother and her daughter
poem by Portia Lane
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Transformation
To my noble parents sterling,
, I was their Daughter darling;
;
To my affable siblings, three,
I was their elder Sister, in glee.
To my beloved husband, in life,
I'm his devoted, fond Wife.
To my endearing children, four,
I'm their doting Mother spore;
To my nephews and nieces, reasoning,
I'm their dear Auntie, loving.
Alas! The label of daughter, nice,
Vanished with my parents' demise! .
My children, one by one, in course of time,
Were married, in their youth prime.
I begot sons-in-law and a daughter-in-law,
And am their affectionate Mother-in-law.
Ah! My siblings three, passed away—
The call of Sister, with them went away!
Now, when my sweet grand-children seven,
With love and care, me, they smother,
Calling me ‘Paatti'(Granny) 'Paatti'(Granny)
,
I the proud Grandmother
Am in rapture, transported to Heaven.!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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The Shadow-Child
Why do the wheels go whirring round,
Mother, mother?
Oh, mother, are they giants bound,
And will they growl forever?
Yes, fiery giants underground,
Daughter, little daughter,
Forever turn the wheels around,
And rumble-grumble ever.
Why do I pick the threads all day,
Mother, mother,
While sunshine children are at play?
And must I work forever?
Yes, shadow-child; the live-long day,
Daughter, little daughter,
Your hands must pick the threads away,
And feel the sunshine never.
Why do the birds sing in the sun,
Mother, mother,
If all day long I run and run,
Run with the wheels forever?
The birds may sing till day is done,
Daughter, little daughter,
But with the- wheels your feet must run—
Run with the wheels forever.
Why do I feel so tired each night,
Mother, mother?
The wheels are always buzzing bright;
Do they grow sleepy never?
Oh, baby thing, so soft and white,
Daughter, little daughter,
The big wheels grind us in their might,
And they will grind forever.
And is the white thread never spun,
Mother, mother?
And is the white cloth never done,
For you and me done never?
Oh yes, our thread will all be spun,
Daughter, little daughter,
When we lie down out in the sun,
And work no more forever.
And when will come that happy day,
Mother, mother?
Oh, shall we laugh and sing and play
Out in the sun forever?
Nay, shadow-child, we'll rest all day,
Daughter, little daughter,
Where green grass grows and roses gay,
There in the sun forever.
poem by Harriet Monroe
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A boy's best friend is his mother.
quote by Joseph Stefano
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Called Story
Harsh words,
spillling over,
warning the loving daughter.
Hurtful words,
telling the daughter
a one-sided story,
of a tale of deception.
Mother did wrong,
by blaming the father.
By pinning it all on
the new victim of his love.
Choosing to leave the daughter,
Choosing to leave the mother,
Choosing to leave the dear family behind him.
Moving on with a new life
to start again.
Forgetting all that was
Such a sad story to tell the daughter
who never wanted to know.
The secrets behind the new loving family.
Never knowing the truth.
This so called story
is all she now knows.
of the ending of times
between mother and father.
poem by Nicole Gehrman
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