Quotes

Quote - Men who find themselves in receipt of unasked-for luck become either benign, believing themselves unworthy, or dangerous

 

I did not know him before his rush to power, but
what I saw in him then was a man overhorsed by the glory
fate had handed him, riding by sheer force of will, knowing
he must be thrown sometime, and that it would hurt.

In my experience, men who find themselves in receipt of
unasked-for luck become either benign, believing themselves
unworthy, or dangerous, believing everyone else sees them as
unfit.

 

An excerpt from

Poem - Days of Kindness

Days of Kindness

(Stranger Music, 1993)

Protect ALL of the people from the will of SOME of the people. Democracy not electoral dictatorship, majority rule within framew

In 1997, when I tutored on the Constitutional Law course at Liverpool Uni and was only ever a chapter of the book ahead of my students, the chapter on “Conventions” floored me. Coming from Germany, this way of securing democracy seemed positively insane.

Poem - Ech day me comëth tydinges thre

 

Ech day me comëth tydinges thre,
For wel swithë sore ben he:
The on is that Ich shal hennë,
That other that Ich not whennë,
The thriddë is my mestë carë,
That Ich not whider Ich shal farë.

Poem - Somer is y-comen in

 

Sing cuckóu, nou! Sing cuckóu!

Sing cuckóu! Sing cuckóu nou!

Somer is y-comen in,

Loudë sing, cuckóu!

Growëth sed and blowëth med

And springth the wodë nou

Sing cuckóu!

Ewë bletëth after lamb,

Lowth after cálve cóu;

Bullok stertëth, bukkë vertëth,

Merye sing, cuckóu!

Cuckóu, cuckóu,

Wél singést thou, cuckóu,

Ne swik thou never nou!

Poem - Miri it is while sumer i-last With foulës song

 

Miri it is while sumer i-last

With foulës song;

Oc now neghëth windës blast

And weder strong.

Ei, ei, what this night is long,

And Ich with wel michel wrong

Sorwe and murne and fast.

Poem - Foulës in the frith, The fishës in the flod

 

Foulës in the frith,

The fishës in the flod,

And I mon waxë wod;

Much sorwe I walkë with

For beste of bon and blod.

Poem - Westron wynde, when wylt thow blow The smalle rayne downe can rayne?

Old poem - mediaeval or even older.

'Westron wynde, when wilt thou blow,
The small raine down can raine.
Cryst, if my love were in my armes
And I in my bedde again!'

 

Westron wynde, when wylt thow blow
The smalle rayne downe can rayne?
Cryst yf my love were in my armys
And I yn my bed agayne!

Quoted in The Lie of the Land

Poem - The Last Time

Through hazy years and memories faded, I see a glimmer of your smile,
how I wish I'd changed my plans and stayed with you a while,

will you be ok I asked, as we parted ways that day,
you told me not to worry, that all would be ok

I wish I'd held you longer, I wish there'd been a sign,
I wish I'd known as we said goodbye that this was the last time

last time I'd hear your voice, last time our eyes would meet,
the last time I'd feel whole again, the last time I'd be free

Free to laugh without constraint, that lightness now diminished,
the joy in every moment curbed, the day your story finished

Free from the torment of things unsaid, of leaving you behind,
of every way I hurt you, of wasting so much time

Time I took for granted, time I thought we had,
time to do all the crazy things that we'd always planned

 


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