08-08-2005, 01:38 PM | #21 |
of the House of Fëanor
Join Date: Apr 2005
Location: Los Angeles
Posts: 6,150
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Folk music! Neat thread. Bob Dylan refused to let the press label him as folk, I remember hearing him say something to this effect when I watched that old Bob Dylan movie - rats, now I forget the name of that movie! But Joni Mitchell, oh my god, what an amazing "folk" singer! What an amazing singer & poet, period.
The Secret of Roan Inish soundtrack goes on my "to buy" list. I just saw it yesterday, when I was music shopping at an electronics store; can't believe I didn't buy it then. Oh, well - yesterday's music budget was craving Hendrix and Marvin Gaye, so I guess Roan Inish is for another day...
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Few people have the imagination for reality.
~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe |
08-08-2005, 02:02 PM | #22 | |
Advocatus Diaboli
Join Date: Dec 2001
Location: Reality
Posts: 3,767
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Quote:
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Your reality, sir, is lies and balderdash and I'm delighted to say that I have no grasp of it whatsoever. |
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08-11-2005, 03:35 AM | #23 | |
Lady of Letters
Join Date: Jan 2002
Location: Either Oxford or Kent, England
Posts: 2,476
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Quote:
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And all the time the waves, the waves, the waves Chase, intersect and flatten on the sand As they have done for centuries, as they will For centuries to come, when not a soul Is left to picnic on the blazing rocks, When England is not England, when mankind Has blown himself to pieces. Still the sea, Consolingly disastrous, will return While the strange starfish, hugely magnified, Waits in the jewelled basin of a pool. |
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08-12-2005, 08:58 AM | #24 |
Elf Lord
Join Date: Sep 2003
Location: In me taters
Posts: 3,288
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You going up the road to Cropredy this weekend, then, sun-star?
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08-12-2005, 10:48 AM | #25 |
Lady of Letters
Join Date: Jan 2002
Location: Either Oxford or Kent, England
Posts: 2,476
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I probably would if I were in Oxford, but I'm at home at the moment. You?
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And all the time the waves, the waves, the waves Chase, intersect and flatten on the sand As they have done for centuries, as they will For centuries to come, when not a soul Is left to picnic on the blazing rocks, When England is not England, when mankind Has blown himself to pieces. Still the sea, Consolingly disastrous, will return While the strange starfish, hugely magnified, Waits in the jewelled basin of a pool. |
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