Resigned comment of the day

“He told us we deserved to win. How is that supposed to make me feel? It makes me feel worse. He’s admitted he cheated. We should have won. He just said, ‘That’s it’. He just said he handled it, he didn’t mean it. Looking at it, it’s quite obvious he did mean it. It’s there for everyone to see and they’re not going to change it now. So what can we do? They’re going to the World Cup and we’re not. That’s it.” ~Ireland defender Richard Dunne on the Thierry Henry “Hand of God” goal in France’s 1-0 win over Ireland.

Wistful comment of the day

“What a charming vision of England,” says Walliams, waving to a skipper.  “You think England’s gone, lost for ever, then some nice people go by on their barge.” The skipper is heavily bearded and pullovered.  “Matt and I would say he’s got The Look. He looks like a character already.” ~David Walliams in his Times London  interview

Inspiring comment of the day

“I’m a striker in everything else I do.  I like to attack things and push, push, push.  Because anyone can do anything, can’t they? World War Two showed us that.  Bankers were made into commandos.  Women were taken from Cheltenham Ladies’ College and put on anti-aircraft batteries.  Everyone can do way more than they think.”

~ British actor/comedian Eddie Izzard

Pithy comment of the day (so far)

“Hoho, just you wait, Rod; a great horde of faux-Hibernian outrage is about to be unleashed in this comments section…” ~ Mr Eugenides in response to the following editorial in the Spectator:

To you Celtic Football Club, I say: Never!

Late August

“Let me enjoy
this late-summer day of my heart
while the leaves are still green
and I won’t look so close
as to see that first tint
of pale yellow slowly creep in.
I will cease endless running
and then look to the sky
ask the sun to embrace me
and then hope she won’t tell
of tomorrows less long than today.
Let me spend just this time
in the slow-cooling glow
of warm afternoon light
and I’d think
I will still have the strength
for just one more
last fling of my heart.”
- John Bohrn

Another goodbye

“While we are mourning the loss of our friend, others are rejoicing to meet him behind the veil.”

~John Taylor

Quotes that spoke to me today

“A garden you can’t see into is as unfriendly as a house with its blinds always drawn.” ~John Hartley

“To expect the unexpected shows a thoroughly modern intellect.” ~Oscar Wilde

“A room should look like it evolved over time. It’s about traveling and collecting personal things. A house should not look decorated or predictable.” ~Amelia Handegan

“Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.” ~Leonardo da Vinci

“The opposite of faith is not heresy, but indifference.” ~Elie Wiesel

“I don’t understand such a ‘perfect’ world where everything in someone’s house is brand-new.” ~Courtney Tilinski

Mourning a loss

Learning of the tragic death of the brilliant and beautiful Natasha Richardson reminded me of the imminent anniversaries of my own family’s devastating losses. This time of year—being the Lenten season—is a somber one in general, but it is all the more so for my children and me. Their father died, unexpectedly, on Good Friday 2003, and two of their dearest friends lost their lives, just four days apart, in late March/early April of 2006. 

As the dates of these sad events creep ever closer, I find myself seeking solace in the comfort of words penned by others. How happy I was to discover this poem written by Keats called “Faery Song”. From what I gather, the words to this poem inspired David N. Childs’s haunting composition “Weep No More,” a beautiful rendition of which can be heard on this video clip.

Shed no tear! oh, shed no tear!
The flower will bloom another year.
Weep no more! oh, weep no more!
Young buds sleep in the root’s white core.
Dry your eyes! oh, dry your eyes!
For I was taught in Paradise
To ease my breast of melodies,–
Shed no tear.

Overhead! look overhead!
‘Mong the blossoms white and red–
Look up, look up! I flutter now
On this fresh pomegranate bough.
See me! ’tis this silvery bill
Ever cures the good man’s ill.
Shed no tear! oh, shed no tear!
The flower will bloom another year.
Adieu, adieu–I fly–adieu!
I vanish in the heaven’s blue,–
Adieu, adieu!

    ~ John Keats

what best friends do

“When we honestly ask which persons in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.” ~ Henri Nouwen

St. Valentine’s Day Requiem

Valentine’s Day is nearly upon us so it’s all about love songs. I prefer the mournful kind, full of longing and loss, unrequited devotion and depleted passion. The you’ve-ripped-my-guts-out-and-now-I’m-just-a-wretch sort of love song. (People with melancholic temperaments are so much fun. No wonder we never get invited to parties.) So when I opened this morning’s email update from NPR’s Music Notes, my first impulse, naturally, was to click on the subheading titled “So Your Tiny Black Heart is Broken“. (The writer’s apt description: ”Each is carefully selected to provide a vivid soundtrack for those moments when alcohol isn’t even necessary, so drunk is the listener on his or her own misery.”) While most of the songs were unfamiliar to me, I was surprised and delighted to see one by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova from the soundtrack to “Once“, one of my favorite films of the decade. Now there’s an album to satisfy the sorrowful, soul-filled music lover in all of us.

I suppose everybody loves a love song, but for me the best love song is a sad love song.

 

“I think I should have no other mortal wants, if I could always have plenty of music. It seems to infuse strength into my limbs, and ideas into my brain. Life seems to go on without effort, when I am filled with music.” ~ George Eliot, The Mill on the Floss