Things have to be beautifully made, even if they are full of fun, fantasy and futility
A bird in the boughs sang "June," And "June" hummed a bee In a Bacchic glee As he tumbled over and over Drunk with the honey-dew.
In the under-wood and the over-wood there is murmur and trill this day, For every bird is in lyric mood, And the wind will have its way.
Some must delve when the dawn is nigh; Some must toil when the noonday beams; But when might comes, and the soft winds sigh, Every man is a King of Dreams.
Upon my lips the breath of song, Within my heart a rhyme, Howe'er time trips or lags along, I keep abreast with time!
Mortals, while through the world you go, Hope may succor and faith befriend, Yet happy your hearts if you can but know, Love awaits at the journey's end!
And from the phlox and mignonette Rich attars drift on every hand; And when star-vestured twilight comes The pale moths weave a saraband. And crickets in the aisles of grass With their clear fifing pierce the hush; And somewhere you many hear anear The passion of the hermit thrush.
It is perfectly true, as philosophers say, that life must be understood backwards. But they forget the other proposition, that it must be lived forwards.
You have to run 75 to 100 miles a week if you expect to break the four-minute mile.
I actually did a remix for Katy Perry, and her management didn't respond.
Ah, Eugenie. I know. We will be victorious, you and me. We're the strongest monarchs in this world. You and I will lead this army, and we will conquer the Rowan land. We'll split it between us, adding on to our kingdoms. . . and from there, we can go anywhere. We could rule half this world together - all of this world - you and me. Kingdom after kingdom would fall to us.