I Hope You Dance

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,

You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,

May you never take one single breath for granted,

GOD forbid love ever leave you empty handed,

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,

Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,

Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

I hope you dance....I hope you dance.

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance,

Never settle for the path of least resistance

Livin' might mean takin' chances but they're worth takin',

Lovin' might be a mistake but it's worth makin',

Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter,

When you come close to sellin' out reconsider,

Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance,

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

I hope you dance....I hope you dance.

Carmina Burana

O Fortuna! is a medieval Latin Goliardic poem composed early in the thirteenth century, part of the collection known as the Carmina Burana. It is a complaint about fate, and Fortuna, a goddess in Roman mythology and personification of luck. In 1935–36 O Fortuna was set to music by the German composer Carl Orff for his twenty-four-movement cantata Carmina Burana. It is the most famous movement and opens and closes the cycle. Orff's setting of the poem has become immensely popular and has been performed by countless classical music ensembles as well as popular artists. The composition appears in numerous movies and television commercials and has become a staple in popular culture, setting the mood for dramatic or cataclysmic situations. 

O Fortune,

just as the moon

Stands constantly changing,

always increasing

or decreasing;

Detestable life

now difficult

and then easy

Deceptive sharp mind;

poverty

power

it melts them like ice.

Fate—monstrous

and empty,

you whirling wheel,

stand malevolent,

well-being is vain

and always fades to nothing,

shadowed

and veiled

you plague me too;

now through the game,

my bare back

I bring to your villainy.

Fate, in health

and in virtue,

is now against me

driven on

and weighted down,

always enslaved.

So at this hour

without delay

pluck the vibrating string;

since through Fate

strikes down the strong,

everyone weep with me!

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

“Neither a lofty degree of intelligence nor imagination nor both together go to the making of genius. Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius”

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was a prolific and influential composer of the Classical era. He composed over 600 works, many acknowledged as pinnacles of symphonic, concertante, chamber, piano, operatic, and choral music. He is among the most enduringly popular of classical composers.

“It is a great consolation for me to remember that the Lord, to whom I had drawn near in humble and child-like faith, has suffered and died for me, and that He will look on me in love and compassion”

Mozart showed prodigious ability from his earliest childhood in Salzburg. Already competent on keyboard and violin, he composed from the age of five and performed before European royalty; at 17 he was engaged as a court musician in Salzburg, but grew restless and traveled in search of a better position, always composing abundantly. While visiting Vienna in 1781, he was dismissed from his Salzburg position. He chose to stay in the capital, where he achieved fame but little financial security. During his final years in Vienna, he composed many of his best-known symphonies, concertos, and operas, and the Requiem. The circumstances of his early death have been much mythologized. He was survived by his wife Constanze and two sons.

“Music, even in situations of the greatest horror, should never be painful to the ear but should flatter and charm it, and thereby always remain music”

Mozart learned voraciously from others, and developed a brilliance and maturity of style that encompassed the light and graceful along with the dark and passionate - the whole informed by a vision of humanity "redeemed through art, forgiven, and reconciled with nature and the absolute." His influence on subsequent Western art music is profound. Beethoven wrote his own early compositions in the shadow of Mozart, of whom Joseph Haydn wrote that "posterity will not see such a talent again in 100 years."

“[T]o talk well and eloquently is a very great art, but that an equally great one is to know the right moment to stop”

The Requiem Mass in D minor (K. 626) by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was composed in Vienna in 1791, during the last year of the composer's life. The requiem was Mozart's last composition and is one of his most popular and respected works.

The Magic Flute (K. 620) is an opera in two acts composed in 1791. The work is in the form of a Singspiel, a popular form that included both singing and spoken dialogue. The Magic Flute is noted for its prominent Masonic elements; Schikaneder and Mozart were Masons and lodge brothers. The opera is also influenced by Enlightenment philosophy, and can be regarded as an allegory advocating enlightened absolutism. The Queen of the Night represents a dangerous form of obscurantism or, according to some interpreters, contemporary Roman Catholicism. Her antagonist Sarastro symbolises the enlightened sovereign who rules according to principles based on reason, wisdom, and nature. The story itself portrays the education of mankind, progressing from chaos through superstition to rationalistic enlightenment, by means of trial (Tamino) and error (Papageno), ultimately to make "the Earth a heavenly kingdom, and mortals like the gods" ("Dann ist die Erd' ein Himmelreich, und Sterbliche den Göttern gleich." This couplet is sung in the finales to both acts.) The role of Queen of the Night is famous for being one of the most demanding in technical difficulty. A particularly demanding aria in this clip below is the Queen of the Night's "Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen" ("The vengeance of Hell boils in my heart"), which reaches a high F6, rare in opera. At the low end, the part of Sarastro includes a conspicuous F in a few locations.

Mozart fell ill while in Prague for the premiere of his opera La clemenza di Tito, written in 1791 on commission for the Emperor's coronation festivities. He was able to continue his professional functions for some time, and conducted the premiere of The Magic Flute on 30 September. The illness intensified on 20 November, at which point Mozart became bedridden, suffering from swelling, pain, and vomiting. Mozart died on 5 December 1791 at the age of 35. Mozart was buried in a common grave, in accordance with contemporary Viennese custom, at the St Marx cemetery outside the city on 7 December 1791.

Don Giovanni

I heard the music of true forgiveness filling the theater, conferring on all who sat there, perfect absolution. God was singing through this little man to all the world, unstoppable, making my defeat more bitter with every passing bar.

So rose the dreadful ghost from his next and blackest opera. There, on the stage, stood the figure of a dead commander. And I knew, only I understood that the horrifying apparition was Leopold raised from the dead! Wolfgang had summoned up his own father to accuse his son before all the world! It was terrifying, and wonderful to watch.

And now, the madness began in me. The madness of a man splitting in half. Through my influence, I saw to it that Don Giovanni was played only five times in Vienna. But in secret, I went to every one of those five! Worshipping sounds I alone seemed to hear.

As I stood there understanding how that bitter old man was still possessing his poor son even from beyond the grave, I began to see a way, a terrible way, I could finally triumph over God.

... Amadeus

Amadeus

"On the page it looked nothing. The beginning simple, almost comic. Just a pulse - bassoons, basset horns, like a rusty squeezebox. 

And then suddenly, high above it - an oboe: a single note hanging there unwavering, until a clarinet took it over - and sweetened it into a phrase of such delight! 

This was no composition by a performing monkey! This was a music I'd never heard. Filled with such longing, such unfulfillable longing. It seemed to me that I was hearing the very voice of God"

... taken from Amadeus,

Serenade For Winds K 361, 3rd Movement composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

All Religions Are But One Religion

Since the object of praise is one,

from this point of view,

all religions are but one religion.

Know that all praise belongs to the Light of God

and is only lent to created forms and beings.

Should people praise anyone but the One

who alone deserves to be praised?

But they go astray in useless fantasy.

The Light of God in relation to phenomena

is like light shining upon a wall—

the wall is but a focus for these splendors.

... Mathnawi III: 2124-2127, Mevlana Rumi

Bertol Brecht

On that day in the blue moon of September

Quietly under a young plum tree

Is where I held her, the still pale love

In my arm like a lovely dream.

And above us in the beautiful summer sky

was a cloud, which I saw for a long time

It was very white and immensely high

And when I looked up, it was never more.

Since that day many, many moons have

Quietly swum down and past.

The plum trees probably have been chopped off

And you ask me, how is it with the love?

So I tell you: I cannot remember.

And yet, sure, I do know what you mean

But her face, I really do not know it anymore

I only still know: I once kissed it.

Even the kiss, I would have forgotten it long ago

had the cloud not been there

That I still know and will I always know

Very white it was and came from above.

Perhaps the plum trees are still flowering

And that women now perhaps has her seventh child

But that cloud blossomed only for minutes

And when I looked up, it already was disappearing in the wind.

... Memory of Marie A, Bertol Brecht

this is a translation from German

The Lives Of Others

The state office for statistics on Hans-Beimler street counts everything; knows everything: how many pairs of shoes I buy a year: 2.3, how many books I read a year: 3.2 and how many students graduate with perfect marks: 6,347. But there's one statistic that isn't collected there, perhaps because such numbers cause even paper-pushers pain: and that is the suicide rate.

I have to show you something: "Prison Conditions for Subversive Artists: Based on Character Profile". Pretty scientific, eh? And look at this: "Dissertation Supervisor, A. Grubitz". That's great, isn't it? I only gave him a B. They shouldn't think getting a doctorate with me is easy. But his is first-class. Did you know that there are just five types of artists? Your guy, Dreyman, is a Type 4, a "hysterical anthropocentrist." Can't bear being alone, always talking, needing friends. That type should never be brought to trial. They thrive on that. Temporary detention is the best way to deal with them. Complete isolation and no set release date. No human contact the whole time, not even with the guards. Good treatment, no harassment, no abuse, no scandals, nothing they could write about later. After 10 months, we release. Suddenly, that guy won't cause us any more trouble. Know what the best part is? Most type 4s we've processed in this way never write anything again. Or paint anything, or whatever artists do. And that without any use of force. Just like that. Kind of like a present.

Doctor Who

"Unrequited love. It's fantastic, 'cause it never has to change, it never has to grow up and it never has to die!"

... Doctor Who, 

the longest-running science fiction television show in the world. link

A Time For Us

... Romeo And Juliet

The Candle Is Made Brighter By Its Weeping

Opinions are sometimes wrong,

but what kind of opinion is this

that's blind to the right road?

O eye, you cry for others:

sit down awhile and weep for yourself!

The bough is made green and fresh

by the weeping cloud for the same reason

that the candle is made brighter

by its weeping.

... Mathnawi II: 478-480, Mevlana Rumi

Dear John

No matter where you are in the world,

the moon is never bigger than your thumb.

When Will I See Your Face Again?

I'm a flower, soaking in the rain,

If I could wish one thing, I'd hear you call my name...

I'm a dreamer, waiting for the sun,

When you're coming in, I know my life's begun...

Crashing Down

What am I doing here

If you're not with me?

What have I got to live for, if it's just my own dream

Take it back to the beginning, back to the start

When gravity's pulling, you're still holding my heart

The Man Who Can't Be Moved

Where I Stood

I don't know what I've done

Or if I like what I've begun

But something told me to run

And honey you know me: it's all or none...

'Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you

All I know is that I should

And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you

All I know is that I should

'Cos she will love you more than I could

She who dares to stand where I stood

Leaves Of Grass

I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul,

The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me,

The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into new tongue.

I am the poet of the woman the same as the man,

And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man,

And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men.

I chant the chant of dilation or pride,

We have had ducking and deprecating about enough,

I show that size is only development.

Have you outstript the rest? are you the President?

It is a trifle, they will more than arrive there every one, and still pass on.

I am he that walks with the tender and growing night,

I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night.

Press close bare-bosom'd night--press close magnetic nourishing night!

Night of south winds--night of the large few stars!

Still nodding night--mad naked summer night.

Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth!

Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees!

Earth of departed sunset--earth of the mountains misty-topt!

Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue!

Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!

Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake!

Far-swooping elbow'd earth--rich apple-blossom'd earth!

Smile, for your lover comes.

Prodigal, you have given me love--therefore I to you give love!

O unspeakable passionate love.

... Song Of Myself, Walt Whitman

The View From The Top

"They take pictures of the mountain climbers at the top of the mountain. They are smiling, ecstatic, triumphant. They don’t take pictures along the way cause who wants to remember the rest of it? We push ourselves because we have to, not because we like it. The relentless climb, the pain and anguish of taking it to the next level – nobody takes pictures of that, nobody wants to remember, we just want to remember the view from the top: the breathtaking moment at the edge of the world. That’s what keeps us climbing and it’s worth the pain, that’s the crazy part. It’s worth anything"

... Grey's Anatomy, Season 6

1001 Inventions and The Library of Secrets

Here Comes The Sun

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter

Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun

and I say it's all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces

Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun

and I say it's all right

Whenever Tears Fall...

Sometimes, in order to help, He makes us miserable;

but heartache for His sake brings happiness.

Laughter will come after tears.

Whoever foresees this is a servant blessed by God.

Wherever water flows, life flourishes:

wherever tears fall, Divine mercy is shown.

... Mathnawi I (817-20), Mevlana Rumi

What Do You Make?

What Do Teachers Make?

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life. Mr. Brown decided to explain the problem with education. He argued, "What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"

To stress his point he said to another guest; "You're a teacher, Barbara . Be honest. What do you make?"

Barbara, who had a reputation for honesty and frankness replied, "You want to know what I make? (She paused for a second, then began...)

"Well, I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.

I make a C+ feel like the Congressional Medal of Honor winner.

I make kids sit through 40 minutes of class time when their parents can't make them sit for 5 without an I Pod, Game Cube or movie rental.

You want to know what I make? (She paused again and looked at each and every person at the table)

I make kids wonder.

I make them question.

I make them apologize and mean it.

I make them have respect and take responsibility for their actions.

I teach them to write and then I make them write. Keyboarding isn't everything.

I make them read, read, read.

I make them show all their work in maths. They use their God given brain, not the man-made calculator.

I make my students from other countries learn everything they need to know about English while preserving their unique cultural identity.

I make my classroom a place where all my students feel safe.

Finally, I make them understand that if they use the gifts they were given, work hard, and follow their hearts, they can succeed in life (Barbara paused one last time and then continued.)

Then, when people try to judge me by what I make, with me knowing money isn't everything, I can hold my head up high and pay no attention because they are ignorant.

You want to know what I make?

I make a difference.

What do you make, Mr. Brown?"

Believe Me

Believe me, it was often thus:
In solitary cells, on winter nights
A sudden sense of joy and warmth
And a resounding note of love.
And then, unsleeping. I would know
A-huddle by an icy wall:
Someone is thinking of me now,
Petitioning the Lord for me.
My dear ones, thank you all
Who did not falter, who believed in us!
In the most fearful prison hour
We probably would not have passed
Through everything - from end to end,
Our heads held high, unbowed-
Without your valiant hearts
to light our path.

(Kiev, 10 Oct. 1986)

... Pencil Letters: Poems, Irina Ratushinskaya