[5225] in Central_America
New quotes for Tue Dec 14
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Central America)
Tue Dec 14 05:09:12 1993
Date: Tue, 14 Dec 1993 05:08:26 -0500
From: Central America <root@charon.MIT.EDU>
To: ca-mtg@charon.MIT.EDU
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jtkohl (John T Kohl):
Next performances in the TFC:
Dec N, for 5 versions of N, Christmas with the Pops, at Symphony Hall, Boston
-=-=-=-
Hmm, Avery Fisher Hall is a nice place to perform. Much roomier stage
than Symphony Hall.
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nosaj (Jason M Sachs):
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want
He makes me down to lie
Through pastures green he leadeth me the silent waters by
With bright knives he releaseth my soul
He maketh me to hang on hooks in high places
He converteth me to lamb cutlets
For lo, he hath great power and great hunger
When cometh the day we lowly ones
Through quiet reflection and great dedication
Master the art of karate
Lo, we shall rise up
And then we'll make the bugger's eyes water.
-- Pink Floyd, "Sheep"
That's the whole trouble. You can't ever find a place
that's nice and peaceful, because there isn't any.
You may *think* there is, but once you get there, when
you're not looking, somebody'll sneak up and write
"Fuck you" right under your nose. Try it sometime. I
think, even, if I ever die, and they stick me in a
cemetery, and I have a tombstone and all, it'll say
"Holden Caulfield" on it, and then what year I was
born and what year I died, and then right under that
it'll say "Fuck you." I'm positive, in fact.
-- J. D. Salinger,
"The Catcher in the Rye"
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starflt (Derrick Kong):
61. Carve your name in picnic tables.
62. Leave your thumbprints on photographs.
63. Hold off paying the people who bill you without charging interest.
64. Send anonymous letters.
65. Drink from other people's glasses.
66. Develop a truly tasteless foul mouth.
67. Drum your fingers during other people's presentations.
68. Leave the concert during the solo or before the clapping starts.
69. Leave the price tag on presents.
70. Name drop.
from Life's Little Destruction Book
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therese (Therese):
When I was a girl, I had a favourite story
Of the meadowlark who lived where the rivers wind.
Her voice could match the angels' in it's glory.
But she was blind. The lark was blind.
The king of the rivers took her to his palace
Where the walls were burnished bronze and golden braid
And he fed her fruit and nuts from an ivory chalice
And he prayed...
Sing for me, my meadowlark
Sing for me of the silver morning
Set me free, my meadowlark
And I'll buy you a priceless jewel
And cloth of brocade and crewel
And I'll love you for life, if you will
Sing for me...
Then one day, as the lark sang by the water
The god of the sun heard her in his flight
And her singing moved him so, he came and brought her
The gift of sight. He gave her sight.
And she opened her eyes to the shimmer and the splendour
Of this beautiful young god, so proud and strong
And he called to the lark in a voice both rough and tender
Come along...
Fly with me, my meadowlark
Fly with me on the silver morning
Past the sea where the dolphins bark
We will dance on the coral beaches
Make a feast of the plums and peaches
Just as far as your vision reaches,
Fly with me...
But the meadowlark said no
For the old king loved her so
She couldn't bear to wound his pride
So the sungod flew away
And when the king came down that day
He found his meadowlark had died...
Every time I heard that part, I cried...
--- End of Central America ---
