Quotes about grasp, page 2
The World Starts Tonight
(ronnie scott/steve wolfe)
Producers for bonnie: david mackay, ronnie scott, steve wolfe
Tonight Im gonna love you
Tonight Im gonna try
Tonight I will take my foot off that brake
Cause you made me grasp
What is over is past
And the world starts tonight
Oooh oooh oooh...the world starts tonight
Tonight Im gonna love you
Tonight I know Ill find
That the world still goes on
Just a part of its gone
Cause you made me grasp
What is over is past
And the world starts tonight
Oooh oooh oooh...the world starts tonight
Baby, oh baby, I made a mistake
I thought love was something, they no longer made
But since you have brought back, some love to my eyes
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song performed by Bonnie Tyler
Added by Lucian Velea
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Violins
I am just another fool
And I have to keep telling myself that
I am just a hypocrite
And I have to keep calling you one
And I forgot to bite my tounge
And my assumption was the mother of all mistakes
So I assume the role, open my mouth, and clumsy words escape
So why you wanna be there when you could be here
you are slipping away
I awake with your replacement
A bottle in my grasp, in an unfamiliar place
Because you put me out
The butt of a sick joke
Into this ashtray life
As you come and go
And I forgot to servie you and we broke down
And you can't live with my mistakes
So I assume false grace open my arms
And grasp at something true
How are you
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song performed by Yellowcard
Added by Lucian Velea
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Violins
I am just another fool
And I have to keep telling myself that
I am just a hypocrite
And I have to keep calling you one
And I forgot to bite my tounge
And my assumption was the mother of all mistakes
So I assume the role, open my mouth, and clumsy words escape
So why you wanna be there when you could be here
you are slipping away
I awake with your replacement
A bottle in my grasp, in an unfamiliar place
Because you put me out
The butt of a sick joke
Into this ashtray life
As you come and go
And I forgot to servie you and we broke down
And you can't live with my mistakes
So I assume false grace open my arms
And grasp at something true
How are you
[...] Read more
song performed by Yellowcard
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Indian City
What deep wounds ever clos'd without a scar?
The heart's bleed longest, and but heal to wear
That which disfigures it.
Childe Harold
I
ROYAL in splendour went down the day
On the plain where an Indian city lay,
With its crown of domes o'er the forest high,
Red as if fused in the burning sky,
And its deep groves pierced by the rays which made
A bright stream's way thro' each long arcade,
Till the pillar'd vaults of the Banian stood,
Like torch-lit aisles midst the solemn wood,
And the plantain glitter'd with leaves of gold,
As a tree midst the genii-gardens old,
And the cypress lifted a blazing spire,
And the stems of the cocoas were shafts of fire.
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poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Petrarch to Laura
"Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state,
"How often must it love, how often hate,
"How often hope, despair, resent, regret,
"Conceal, disdain, do all things, but forget."
- POPE.
YE silent haunts, ye dark embow'ring shades,
Lone shaggy wilds and melancholy glades;
Ye mountains black'ning o'er the thorny vale;
Ye lucid lakes that trembling meet the gale;
Ye gloomy avenues of dire despair,
Dear last asylums of long-cherish'd care;
Eternal solitudes ! where LOVE retires
To bathe his wounds, and quench his fatal fires;
Where frantic, lost, forlorn, and sad I go
A wand'ring pilgrim in a maze of woe;
Oh! to your deepest caverns let me fly,
Breathe a fond pray'r, and 'MIDST YOUR HORRORS DIE.
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poem by Mary Darby Robinson
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An Athenian Reverie
How the returning days, one after one,
Came ever in their rhythmic round, unchanged,
Yet from each looped robe for every man
Some new thing falls. Happy is he
Who fronts them without fear, and like the gods
Looks out unanxiously on each day's gift
With calmly curious eye. How many things
Even in a little space, both good and ill,
Have fallen on me, and yet in all of them
The keen experience or the smooth remembrance
Hath found some sweet. It scarcely seems a month
Since we saw Crete; so swiftly sped the days,
Borne onward with how many changing scenes,
Filled with how many crowding memories.
Not soon shall I forget them, the stout ship,
All the tense labour with the windy sea,
The cloud-wrapped heights of Crete, beheld far off,
And white Cytaeon with its stormy pier,
The fruitful valleys, the wild mountain road,
And those long days of ever-vigilant toil,
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poem by Archibald Lampman
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Rokeby: Canto II.
I.
Far in the chambers of the west,
The gale had sigh'd itself to rest;
The moon was cloudless now and clear,
But pale, and soon to disappear.
The thin grey clouds wax dimly light
On Brusleton and Houghton height;
And the rich dale, that eastward lay,
Waited the wakening touch of day,
To give its woods and cultured plain,
And towers and spires, to light again.
But, westward, Stanmore's shapeless swell,
And Lunedale wild, and Kelton-fell,
And rock-begirdled Gilmanscar,
And Arkingarth, lay dark afar;
While, as a livelier twilight falls,
Emerge proud Barnard's banner'd walls
High crown'd he sits, in dawning pale,
The sovereign of the lovely vale.
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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Lord of the Isles: Canto IV.
I.
Stranger! if e'er thine ardent step hath traced
The northern realms of ancient Caledon,
Where the proud Queen of Wilderness hath placed,
By lake and cataract, her lonely throne;
Sublime but sad delight thy soul hath known,
Gazing on pathless glen and mountain high,
Listing where from the cliffs the torrents thrown
Mingle their echoes with the eagle's cry,
And with the sounding lake, and with the moaning sky.
Yes! 'twas sublime, but sad. - The loneliness
Loaded thy heart, the desert tired thine eye;
And strange and awful fears began to press
Thy bosom with a stern solemnity.
Then hast thou wish'd some woodman's cottage nigh,
Something that show'd of life, though low and mean;
Glad sight, its curling wreath of smoke to spy,
Glad sound, its cock's blithe carol would have been,
Or children whooping wild beneath the willows green.
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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Canto the Second
I.
Night wanes — the vapours round the mountains curl'd,
Melt into morn, and Light awakes the world.
Man has another day to swell the past,
And lead him near to little, but his last;
But mighty Nature bounds as from her birth,
The sun is in the heavens, and life on earth;
Flowers in the valley, splendour in the beam,
Health on the gale, and freshness in the stream.
Immortal man! behold her glories shine,
And cry, exulting inly, "They are thine!"
Gaze on, while yet thy gladden'd eye may see,
A morrow comes when they are not for thee;
And grieve what may above thy senseless bier,
Nor earth nor sky will yield a single tear;
Nor cloud shall gather more, nor leaf shall fall,
Nor gale breathe forth one sigh for thee, for all;
But creeping things shall revel in their spoil,
And fit thy clay to fertilise the soil.
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poem by Byron from Lara (1815)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Don Juan: Canto The Fourth
Nothing so difficult as a beginning
In poesy, unless perhaps the end;
For oftentimes when Pegasus seems winning
The race, he sprains a wing, and down we tend,
Like Lucifer when hurl'd from heaven for sinning;
Our sin the same, and hard as his to mend,
Being pride, which leads the mind to soar too far,
Till our own weakness shows us what we are.
But Time, which brings all beings to their level,
And sharp Adversity, will teach at last
Man,- and, as we would hope,- perhaps the devil,
That neither of their intellects are vast:
While youth's hot wishes in our red veins revel,
We know not this- the blood flows on too fast;
But as the torrent widens towards the ocean,
We ponder deeply on each past emotion.
As boy, I thought myself a clever fellow,
And wish'd that others held the same opinion;
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