Uncategorized January 22, 2012
BREAKING THE MOULD: A SONNET
Ungrateful he, who pluck’d thee from thy stalk, Poor faded flow’ret! on his careless way. Coleridge
Ungrateful he, who pluck’d thee from thy stalk, Poor faded flow’ret! on his careless way. Coleridge
In a dim corner of my room for longer than my fancy thinks A beautiful and silent Sphinx has watched me through the shifting gloom. OSCAR WILDE Photo by EP In 1958, not long after Colonel Nasser had successfully snaffled the Suez Canal, my first wife and I sailed through it …
I regard the theatre as the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being. Oscar Wilde iPhone self-portrait by EP Two weeks ago a lady sweetly accosted me at the Riverside Studios after a …
To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle every inch of space is a miracle. Walt Whitman To prove Our almost-instinct almost true: What will survive of us is love. Philip Larkin …
West-End, of late years, has ceased to be an obscure nook, with a few houses almost hidden in trees. London, as on all other sites, has thrust itself in, and planted handsome houses of merchants and professional men, and opened up the secluded scene of former rude revels into a pleasant suburb of the great …
Modernity signifies the transitory, the fugitive, the contingent, the half of art of which the other half is the eternal and the immutable. Baudelaire Photo by EP Oh! No wonder modern life is so tiring! I keep thinking it’s my age, but having forgotten to take my Kindle on the Tube with me to the …
Youth, large, lusty, loving – youth full of grace, force, fascination. Do you know that Old Age may come after you, with equal grace, force, fascination? Walt Whitman Photo by EP I hope you won’t find it cloying when I say that it has struck me afresh what an extraordinary job it …
Yet there are moments when the walls of the mind grow thin; when nothing is unabsorbed, and I could fancy that we might blow so vast a bubble that the sun might set and rise in it and we might take the blue of midday and the black of midnight and be cast off and …
Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Shelley, ‘Ode to the West Wind’ (1820) Season of mists … and mellow fruitfulness. Photos by EP SUNDAY, 20th …
And they buried him in the citie of David among the kings, because he had done good in Israel, both towards God, and towards his house. 2 Chronicles, 24:16 (1611 King James Bible) Photo by EP Some mornings this last week have been grey and the poor shred of a no longer protected ancient orchard, …
I recommend the following films from this extensive list: