Quotes about accept, page 9
Stranger In My Own Home Town (Undubbed Master)
I'm like a stranger
Like a stranger in my own home town
I'm like a stranger
Like a stranger in my own home town
My so called friends stopped being friendly
Oh but you can't keep a good man down
Oh no, can't get him down
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago
But my home town won't accept me
Just don't feel welcome here no more
My home town won't accept me
Just don't feel welcome here no more
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago, yes I did
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago
But my home town won't accept me
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song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Stranger In My Own Home Town
(words & music by percy mayfield)
Im like a stranger
Like a stranger in my own home town
Im like a stranger
Like a stranger in my own home town
My so called friends stopped being friendly
Oh but you cant keep a good man down
Oh no, cant get him down
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago
But my home town wont accept me
Just dont feel welcome here no more
My home town wont accept me
Just dont feel welcome here no more
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago, yes I did
I came home with good intentions
About 5 or 6 years ago
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song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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My Reply
got your letter and the poetry you sent me
postmarked in december of last year
i really hope you're doing better
all your friends close by your side
one step closer to recovery
i wish there was something i could say
to erase each and every page
you've been through
even though its not my place to save you
i appreciate but cant accept this thank you note
thats sealed with your last breath
and i won't stand aside
and listen to you give up
if you'll just hold on for one more second
just hold on to what you have
just hold on/ just hold on
if you'll just hold on for one more second
just hold on to what you have
just hold on/ just hold on
these arms remain stretched out to you
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song performed by Ataris
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With God On Our Side
Oh my name it is nothin
My age it means less
The country I come from
Is called the midwest
Its taught and brought up there
The laws to abide
And that land that I live in
Has God on its side.
Oh the history books tell it
They tell it so well
The cavalries charged
The indians fell
The cavalries charged
The indians died
Oh the country was young
With God on its side.
Oh the spanish-american
War had its day
And the civil war too
Was soon laid away
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song performed by Bob Dylan
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The Athenaid: Volume II: Book the Nineteenth
The morning breaks; Nicanor sudden greets
The gen'ral; welcome tidings in these words
He utters loud: The citadel is won,
The tyrant slaughter'd. With our sacred guide
A rugged, winding track, in brambles hid,
Half up a crag we climb'd; there, stooping low,
A narrow cleft we enter'd; mazy still
We trod through dusky bowels of a rock,
While our conductor gather'd, as he stepp'd,
A clue, which careful in his hand he coil'd.
Our spears we trail'd; each soldier held the skirt
Of his preceding comrade. We attain'd
An iron wicket, where the ending line
Was fasten'd; thence a long and steep ascent
Was hewn in steps; suspended on the sides,
Bright rows of tapers cheer'd our eyes with light.
We reach'd the top; there lifting o'er his head
A staff, against two horizontal valves
Our leader smote, which open'd at the sound.
Behind me Hyacinthus on the rock
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poem by Richard Glover
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A Day At Tivoli - Prologue
Fair blows the breeze—depart—depart—
And tread with me th' Italian shore;
And feed thy soul with glorious art;
And drink again of classic lore.
Nor sometime shalt thou deem it wrong,
When not in mood too gravely wise,
At idle length to lie along,
And quaff a bliss from bluest skies.
Or, pleased more pensive joy to woo,
At twilight eve, by ruin grey,
Muse o'er the generations, who
Have passed, as we must pass, away.
Or mark o'er olive tree and vine
Steep towns uphung; to win from them
Some thought of Southern Palestine;
Some dream of old Jerusalem.
Come, Pilgrim-Friend! At last our sun outbreaks,
And chases, one by one, dawn's lingering flakes.
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poem by John Kenyon
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Ninth Book
EVEN thus. I pause to write it out at length,
The letter of the Lady Waldemar.–
'I prayed your cousin Leigh to take you this,
He says he'll do it. After years of love,
Or what is called so,–when a woman frets
And fools upon one string of a man's name,
And fingers it for ever till it breaks,–
He may perhaps do for her such thing,
And she accept it without detriment
Although she should not love him any more
And I, who do not love him, nor love you,
Nor you, Aurora,–choose you shall repent
Your most ungracious letter, and confess,
Constrained by his convictions, (he's convinced)
You've wronged me foully. Are you made so ill,
You woman–to impute such ill to me?
We both had mothers,–lay in their bosom once.
Why, after all, I thank you, Aurora Leigh,
For proving to myself that there are things
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poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
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Paradise Lost: Book 02
High on a throne of royal state, which far
Outshone the wealth or Ormus and of Ind,
Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand
Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold,
Satan exalted sat, by merit raised
To that bad eminence; and, from despair
Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires
Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue
Vain war with Heaven; and, by success untaught,
His proud imaginations thus displayed:--
"Powers and Dominions, Deities of Heaven!--
For, since no deep within her gulf can hold
Immortal vigour, though oppressed and fallen,
I give not Heaven for lost: from this descent
Celestial Virtues rising will appear
More glorious and more dread than from no fall,
And trust themselves to fear no second fate!--
Me though just right, and the fixed laws of Heaven,
Did first create your leader--next, free choice
With what besides in council or in fight
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poem by John Milton
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Fourth Book
THEY met still sooner. 'Twas a year from thence
When Lucy Gresham, the sick semptress girl,
Who sewed by Marian's chair so still and quick,
And leant her head upon the back to cough
More freely when, the mistress turning round,
The others took occasion to laugh out,–
Gave up a last. Among the workers, spoke
A bold girl with black eyebrows and red lips,–
'You know the news? Who's dying, do you think?
Our Lucy Gresham. I expected it
As little as Nell Hart's wedding. Blush not, Nell,
Thy curls be red enough without thy cheeks;
And, some day, there'll be found a man to dote
On red curls.–Lucy Gresham swooned last night,
Dropped sudden in the street while going home;
And now the baker says, who took her up
And laid her by her grandmother in bed,
He'll give her a week to die in. Pass the silk.
Let's hope he gave her a loaf too, within reach,
For otherwise they'll starve before they die,
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poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
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Gareth And Lynette
The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent,
And tallest, Gareth, in a showerful spring
Stared at the spate. A slender-shafted Pine
Lost footing, fell, and so was whirled away.
'How he went down,' said Gareth, 'as a false knight
Or evil king before my lance if lance
Were mine to use--O senseless cataract,
Bearing all down in thy precipitancy--
And yet thou art but swollen with cold snows
And mine is living blood: thou dost His will,
The Maker's, and not knowest, and I that know,
Have strength and wit, in my good mother's hall
Linger with vacillating obedience,
Prisoned, and kept and coaxed and whistled to--
Since the good mother holds me still a child!
Good mother is bad mother unto me!
A worse were better; yet no worse would I.
Heaven yield her for it, but in me put force
To weary her ears with one continuous prayer,
Until she let me fly discaged to sweep
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poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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