Quotes about The hunt, page 5
Venus and Adonis
'Vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo
Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.'
To the right honorable Henry Wriothesly, Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield.
Right honorable.
I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden only, if your honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a god-father, and never after ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your heart's content; which I wish may always answer your own wish and the world's hopeful expectation.
Your honour's in all duty.
Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn;
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-faced suitor 'gins to woo him.
'Thrice-fairer than myself,' thus she began,
'The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are;
[...] Read more
poem by William Shakespeare
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Tower Beyond Tragedy
I
You'd never have thought the Queen was Helen's sister- Troy's
burning-flower from Sparta, the beautiful sea-flower
Cut in clear stone, crowned with the fragrant golden mane, she
the ageless, the uncontaminable-
This Clytemnestra was her sister, low-statured, fierce-lipped, not
dark nor blonde, greenish-gray-eyed,
Sinewed with strength, you saw, under the purple folds of the
queen-cloak, but craftier than queenly,
Standing between the gilded wooden porch-pillars, great steps of
stone above the steep street,
Awaiting the King.
Most of his men were quartered on the town;
he, clanking bronze, with fifty
And certain captives, came to the stair. The Queen's men were
a hundred in the street and a hundred
Lining the ramp, eighty on the great flags of the porch; she
raising her white arms the spear-butts
Thundered on the stone, and the shields clashed; eight shining
clarions
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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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A Fable For Critics
Phoebus, sitting one day in a laurel-tree's shade,
Was reminded of Daphne, of whom it was made,
For the god being one day too warm in his wooing,
She took to the tree to escape his pursuing;
Be the cause what it might, from his offers she shrunk,
And, Ginevra-like, shut herself up in a trunk;
And, though 'twas a step into which he had driven her,
He somehow or other had never forgiven her;
Her memory he nursed as a kind of a tonic,
Something bitter to chew when he'd play the Byronic,
And I can't count the obstinate nymphs that he brought over
By a strange kind of smile he put on when he thought of her.
'My case is like Dido's,' he sometimes remarked;
'When I last saw my love, she was fairly embarked
In a laurel, as _she_ thought-but (ah, how Fate mocks!)
She has found it by this time a very bad box;
Let hunters from me take this saw when they need it,-
You're not always sure of your game when you've treed it.
Just conceive such a change taking place in one's mistress!
What romance would be left?-who can flatter or kiss trees?
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poem by James Russell Lowell
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Hot Out
lips kiss
don't miss
heart hunt love...
body hunt sex
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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My name is E. Howard Hunt. I'm currently retired from more than 22 years in the profession of espionage.
quote by E. Howard Hunt
Added by Lucian Velea
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Failure in progress
Half of women are frigid
And the other half, timid.
So man can hunt none
Yet fails not to hunt on.
05.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Hunt Never Ends
Here I sit
by the reflective pool
my pups sit around me
as I howl at the moon
calling the pack
there is a heard of deer
sleeping under the willow tree
Tonight
The....Hunt....
Will....Sta rt
tonight
we eat our fill and slip into a quiet rest
the hunt never ends
:)
poem by Erika Rayl
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Liberty
Rue not the rued heart
Heavens on earth still abundant
Let not the mind dig its dark chasm
Let your liberty hunt its fortune awesome
And liberty..
Lighted-Insight Bred
Exemplary, Righteous, Tireless
Yours
Rue not the rued heart
Let your liberty hunt your fortune awesome
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Stunned With a Stinging Into Love
My heart hunts to be captured.
Runs to be chased.
And sits in denial.
My mind wants to be soothed.
And feel assured.
My body aches to be touched.
And that's a cure I am sure I'll endure.
When the hunt ends.
And I am stunned with a stinging into a love,
Wanted much.
When the hunt ends.
And I am stunned with a stinging into love.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hunting Song
Round us rolls the heather's sheen,
Heather's sheen,
'Neath the falcon of our queen,
Of our queen.
Birch and cherry balm exhale,
Balm exhale,
Loud our horns the cliffs assail,
Cliffs assail.
Light the air and clear the sky,
Clear the sky,-
Hurrah! onward, she is nigh,
She is nigh.
Hunt ye joy with every breath,
Every breath,
Hunt it to the stream of death,
Stream of death!
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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