what's your favorite qoute/poem/aphorism,ect...?

[poisoninthestain]

I think it's a cool social-thought experiment to find out someone's personal favorite quote and/or any piece of idea such as a poem that you especially relate to.

It could be your own or whomever's.


I like these two:

"But if it senses fear, it'll eat us instantly. But if we kiss it without fear, it'll take us through the garden, through the gate, to the other side. Ride the snake... until the end of time."-Jim Morrison

"Why do I have to control everything?...once you understand yourself there will no longer be need for control"-conversation with myself(dmt experience)

 

[magickstar]

From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.

Edvard Munch

 

[ararat]

too bad it's german, but nonetheless, it's my favourite poem. at least some here can read it.


Mondnacht

Es war, als hätt' der Himmel
Die Erde still geküsst,
Dass sie im Blütenschimmer
Von ihm nun träumen müsst'.

Die Luft ging durch die Felder,
Die Ähren wogten sacht,
Es rauschten leis' die Wälder,
So sternklar war die Nacht.

Und meine Seele spannte
Weit ihre Flügel aus,
flog durch die stillen Lande,
Als flöge sie nach Haus.

 

[GOD]

Ist schone , von wem ist das ?

 

[ararat]

Joseph von Eichendorff

 

[Psyolopher]

From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.

Edvard Munch

Always liked his name! :lol:

 

[magickpencil]

"he who fucks nuns will later join the church" - Joe Strummer

"just make your bedroom goddamn great!" - Al Johnson

 

[Psyolopher]

"he who fucks nuns will later join the church" - Joe Strummer

Hahaha fucking brilliant, i didnt get the paradox as first!

 

[druglessdouglas]

See the smoking bowl before us,
Mark our jovial ragged ring!
Round and round take up the chorus,
And in raptures let us sing-

A fig for those by law protected!
Liberty's a glorious feast!
Courts for cowards were erected,
Churches built to please the priest.

a bit of "Air" by Robbert Burns

 

[restin]

Mondnacht

Es war, als hätt' der Himmel
Die Erde still geküsst,
Dass sie im Blütenschimmer
Von ihm nun träumen müsst'.

Die Luft ging durch die Felder,
Die Ähren wogten sacht,
Es rauschten leis' die Wälder,
So sternklar war die Nacht.

Und meine Seele spannte
Weit ihre Flügel aus,
flog durch die stillen Lande,
Als flöge sie nach Haus.

Mondnacht is wunderschön. Neben "Hymnen an die Nacht" mein Liebnings-
gedicht.

German:
"Der Vogel kämpft sich aus dem Ei. Wer geboren werden will, muss eine Welt zerstören." (Hermann Hesse, "Demian")

("The bird fights itself out of the Egg. Who wants to be born, must destroy a world")

English:
"To See a World in a Grain of Sand
And Heaven in a wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the Palm of your Hand
And Eternity in an Hour." (William Blake) (Blake kills Shakespeare. I really dislike him.)

"Art is long and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums are beating
Funeral marches to the Grave." (Longfellow)

 

[FluidDruid]

The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge but imagination.
-
Albert Einstein.

 

[Guest]

The poet is a faker
Who’s so good at his act
He even fakes the pain
Of pain he feels in fact.

And those who read his words
Will feel in his writing
Neither of the pains he has
But just the one they’re missing.

And so around its track
This thing called the heart winds,
A little clockwork train
To entertain our minds.

-Fernando Pessoa

 

[magickmumu]

Hymn to Pan

Thrill with lissome lust of the light,
O man! My man!
Come careering out of the night
Of Pan! Io Pan!
Io Pan! Io Pan! Come over the sea
From Sicily and from Arcady!
Roaming as Bacchus, with fauns and pards
And nymphs and satyrs for thy guards,
On a milk-white ass, come over the sea
To me, to me,
Come with Apollo in bridal dress
(Shepherdess and pythoness)
Come with Artemis, silken shod,
And wash thy white thigh, beautiful God,
In the moon of the woods, on the marble mount,
The dimpled dawn of the amber fount!
Dip the purple of passionate prayer
In the crimson shrine, the scarlet snare,
The soul that startles in eyes of blue
To watch thy wantonness weeping through
The tangled grove, the gnarled bole
Of the living tree that is spirit and soul
And body and brain --- come over the sea,
(Io Pan! Io Pan!)
Devil or god, to me, to me,
My man! my man!
Come with trumpets sounding shrill
Over the hill!
Come with drums low muttering
From the spring!
Come with flute and come with pipe!
Am I not ripe?
I, who wait and writhe and wrestle
With air that hath no boughs to nestle
My body, weary of empty clasp,
Strong as a lion and sharp as an asp ---
Come, O come!
I am numb
With the lonely lust of devildom.
Thrust the sword through the galling fetter,
All-devourer, all-begetter;
Give me the sign of the Open Eye,
And the token erect of thorny thigh,
And the word of madness and mystery,
O Pan! Io Pan!
Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan Pan! Pan,
I am a man:
Do as thou wilt, as a great god can,
O Pan! Io Pan!
Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! I am awake
In the grip of the snake.
The eagle slashes with beak and claw;
The gods withdraw:
The great beasts come, Io Pan! I am borne
To death on the horn
Of the Unicorn.
I am Pan! Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan!
I am thy mate, I am thy man,
Goat of thy flock, I am gold, I am god,
Flesh to thy bone, flower to thy rod.
With hoofs of steel I race on the rocks
Through solstice stubborn to equinox.
And I rave; and I rape and I rip and I rend
Everlasting, world without end,
Mannikin, maiden, Maenad, man,
In the might of Pan.
Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan! Io Pan!

 

[Forkbender]

I won't post the entire Waste Land by T.S. Eliot, but just the start of it:

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

One of his competitors (William Carlos Williams) published this poem in reaction to the Waste Land:

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

I like them both.

 

[Forkbender]

History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.

- Ulysses by James Joyce.

 

[GOD]

Milk , milk , lemonade ,
round the corner chocolate is made........

Or

If i had the wings of a sparrow ,
if i had the arse of a crow ,
I`d fly over george bush tomorow ,
and shit on the bastard below .

I think both were written by Shakesdick.........

 

[magickstar]

I won't post the entire Waste Land by T.S. Eliot ...

I had to study this poem in school, age 16. Totally wasted on the young - I had no conception about what it meant. Now I can appreciate it. Thanks for posting.

 

[magickstar]

Milk , milk , lemonade ,
round the corner chocolate is made........
quote]

I cant believe you know this one. We used to chant it in the school playground to upset the dinner ladies.

 

[magickstar]

Please, does anyone know the origin of the quote:

The mind is like a parachute, it only works when it is open.

 

[GOD]

Maybe i was that dinner lady ??????