The Riders Of Rohan | Howard Shore | The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
Costumes for “The Blue Bird” at Moscow Art Theatre, 1908
I remember long drives sitting in the back
Looking out at endless snow
Waiting in the silence
We look before and after,
And pine for what is not;
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell
Of saddest thought.
Oh, sweet Fancy! let her loose;
Every thing is spoilt by use:
Where’s the cheek that doth not fade,
Too much gaz’d at? Where’s the maid
Whose lip mature is ever new?
Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?
Tis strange,-but true; for truth is always strange;
Stranger than fiction: if it could be told,
How much would novels gain by the exchange!
How differently the world would men behold!
Had we never lov’d sae kindly,
Had we never lov’d sae blindly,
Never met — or never parted —
we had ne’er been broken-hearted
Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows, a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.
Stranger! henceforth be warned; and know that pride,
Howe’er disguised in its own majesty,
Is littleness; that he, who feels contempt
For any living thing, hath faculties
Which he has never used; that thought with him
Is in its infancy…
Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair.
Any details of the lives of men whose opinions have had a marked influence upon mankind, or from whose works we have derived pleasure or profit, cannot but be interesting. This conviction induces me to record some facts regarding Shelley and Byron, two of the last of the true Poets.
all this reading/writing about war reminded me of “what we have known” and what a beautiful, important song it is.
and all the baby boys we’ve born
with eyes averted from the storm
sent off to die in perfect form
we know now what we have known
satellite photos rhetoric
see how the euphemism stick
and when they come back broke and burned
those who return have no return
ladies: breathe deep against your whalebones
when your children come home made of stone
Bill Callahan - All Thoughts Are Prey to Some Beast
The leafless tree looked like a brain
The birds within were all the thoughts and desires within me
Hoppin’ around from branch to branch
Or snug in their nests listenin’ in
An eagle came over the horizon
And shook the branches with its sight
The softer thoughts: starlings, finches, and wrens
The softer thoughts, they all took flight