The wit of Oscar Wilde

Feeling the need for an Oscar Wilde break...

I have the simplest tastes. I am always satisfied with the best.

Be warned in time, James, and remain, as I do, incomprehensible: to be great is to be misunderstood.

A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it.

Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative.

Most modern calendars mar the sweet simplicity of our lives by reminding us that each day that passes is the anniversary of some perfectly uninteresting event.

A simile committing suicide is always a depressing spectacle.

Art finds her own perfection within, and not outside of herself. She is not to be judged by any external standard of resemblance. She is a veil, rather than a mirror.

He is really not so ugly after all, provided, of course, that one shuts one's eyes, and does not look at him.

le mystère de l'amour est plus grand que le mystère de la mort.
The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death.

Hard work is simply the refuge of people who have nothing whatever to do.

Life imitates art far more than art imitates Life.

Art persists, it timelessly continues.

Truth, in the matters of religion, is simply the opinion that has survived.

I am but too conscious of the fact that we are born in an age when only the dull are treated seriously, and I live in terror of not being misunderstood.

As long as war is regarded as wicked, it will always have its fascination. When it is looked upon as vulgar, it will cease to be popular.

To be good, according to the vulgar standard of goodness, is obviously quite easy. It merely requires a certain amount of sordid terror, a certain lack of imaginative thought, and a certain low passion for middle-class respectability.

I am the only person in the world I should like to know thoroughly.

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

What is a cynic? A man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.

What a pity that in life we only get our lessons when they are of no use to us.

The English country gentleman galloping after a fox — the unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable.

Kelvil: May I ask, Lord Illingworth, if you regard the House of Lords as a better institution than the House of Commons?
Lord Illingworth: A much better institution of course. We in the House of Lords are never in touch with public opinion. That makes us a civilised body.

Lord Illingworth: The Book of Life begins with a man and a woman in a garden.
Mrs. Allonby: It ends with Revelations.

Men marry because they are tired; women because they are curious. Both are disappointed.

I am always astonishing myself. It is the only thing that makes life worth living.

The English are always degrading truths into facts. When a truth becomes a fact it loses all its intellectual value.

To be really mediæval one should have no body. To be really modern one should have no soul. To be really Greek one should have no clothes.

The only thing that can console one for being poor is extravagance. The only thing that can console one for being rich is economy.

If one tells the truth, one is sure, sooner or later, to be found out.

One should always be a little improbable.

The only way to atone for being occasionally a little over-dressed is by being always absolutely over-educated.

The amount of women in London who flirt with their own husbands is perfectly scandalous.

My dear fellow, the truth isn't quite the sort of thing one tells to a nice, sweet, refined girl.

Ah! That must be Aunt Augusta. Only relatives, or creditors, ever ring in that Wagnerian manner.

I have invented an invaluable permanent invalid called Bunbury, in order that I may be able to go down into the country whenever I choose.

It is absurd to have a hard and fast rule about what one should read and what one shouldn't. More than half of modern culture depends on what one shouldn't read.

Relations are simply a tedious pack of people, who haven’t got the remotest knowledge of how to live, nor the smallest instinct about when to die.

I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.

I hope you have not been leading a double life, pretending to be wicked and being really good all the time. That would be hypocrisy.

Well, I can't eat muffins in an agitated manner. The butter would probably get on my cuffs. One must eat muffins quite calmly, it is the only way to eat them.

Thirty-five is a very attractive age. London society is full of women of the very highest birth who have, of their own free choice, remained thirty-five for years.

Oh, I love London society! It is entirely composed now of beautiful idiots and brilliant lunatics. Just what society should be.

Science can never grapple with the irrational. That is why it has no future before it, in this world.

I always pass on good advice. It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use to oneself.

Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast.

All sins, except a sin against itself, Love should forgive. All lives, save loveless lives, true Love should pardon.

Lord Caversham: No woman, plain or pretty, has any common sense at all, sir. Common sense is the privilege of our sex.
Lord Goring: Quite so. And we men are so self-sacrificing that we never use it, do we, father?

Disobedience, in the eyes of any one who has read history, is man's original virtue. It is through disobedience that progress has been made, through disobedience and through rebellion.

High hopes were once formed of democracy; but democracy means simply the bludgeoning of the people by the people for the people.

Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live.

The fact is, that civilisation requires slaves. The Greeks were quite right there. Unless there are slaves to do the ugly, horrible, uninteresting work, culture and contemplation become almost impossible. Human slavery is wrong, insecure, and demoralizing. On mechanical slavery, on the slavery of the machine, the future of the world depends.

Closed eyes listen, afraid to see on their own. Easily influenced and simply conformed.

Art is the most intense mode of individualism that the world has known.

Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!

And all, but Lust, is turned to dust
In Humanity's machine.

A thing is, according to the mode in which one looks at it.

We are the zanies of sorrow. We are clowns whose hearts are broken.

Where there is sorrow there is holy ground.
And alien tears will fill for him
Pity's long-broken urn,
For his mourners will be outcast men,
And outcasts always mourn.

The Last Song of the Night

Two or three times a week, I sing on my back deck. I imagine that I'm singing to the stars or to the trees or to the moon or to the spirit world, and I'm convinced that this practice has kept me sane for at least 25 years. Reading and humor have helped a lot, but it's the singing that I can't do without for very long.

Since I've had an iPod, an element of randomness has been introduced to this ritual of mine. Now, I can shuffle my collection and skip along until I find something that appeals to my mood. There are some songs that I keep coming back to, but it's usually a mix that covers a range of thoughts and emotions so I don't get stuck in one style the way I sometimes used to do.

I don't put a time limit on the singing and I never know how long it's going to last. Tonight I sang for over an hour, but sometimes I sing only three or four songs, or I can go on for two hours or more. Some songs are sung softly, others projected. I've confused the bats more than once.

It tends to be the song itself that announces the end. When I feel happy and satisfied, then I know it's a wrap for the night.

This evening the song was "Julia," which was written by John Lennon. "Julia" was written for John's mother Julia Lennon who was run over and killed by a drunk driver (an off-duty policeman) in 1958. Some of the imagery seems to suggest Yoko Ono as well.

The version of the song I prefer is performed by his son Sean during a special event honoring his father. The show went on, even though it was in New York not too long after the tragedy of 9/11. This event - "Come Together" - brought out the best from the performers and the audience, and it still touches me to watch the video and hear the brilliant loving performances. And it reminds me of what we - as Americans - can be.

Tonight, I made that song my own. It was the perfect goodnight to the moon. It is a wistful lullaby song of love and longing and sweetness and sadness. Enjoy.

Half of what I say is meaningless
But I say it just to reach you
Julia

Julia, Julia
ocean child, calls me
So I sing a song of love
Julia

Julia, sea shell eyes,
windy smile, calls me
So I sing a song of love
Julia

Her hair of floating sky
is shimmering, glimmering
In the sun

Julia, Julia,
morning moon, touch me
So I sing a song of love
Julia

When I cannot sing my heart
I can only speak my mind
Julia

Julia, sleeping sand,
silent cloud, touch me
So I sing a song of love
Julia

Don't You Know that I Love You

Spirit, prayer, heat, passion, drive, body, MUSIC! - A gadda-da-vida for real.

"Music is the mediator between the spiritual and the sensual life." ~ Ludwig van Beethoven

"There is nothing in the world so much like prayer as music is." ~ William P. Merrill

"Music, once admitted to the soul, becomes a sort of spirit, and never dies." ~ Edward Bulwer-Lytton

"Its language is a language which the soul alone understands, but which the soul can never translate." ~ Arnold Bennett

Beam me on and on and on and on and on....

"In A Gadda Da Vida," Iron Butterfly

Two-part digital remaster of the original 17 minute song:

in a gadda da vida honey
don't you know that I
love you

in a gadda a vida baby
don't you know that I'll
always be true

Oh won't you
come with me
and take my
hand

Oh, won't you
come with me
and walk this
land

Please
take my
hand

A short version~

Reach you with heart and soul

Give Me Love (Give Me Peace On Earth), George Harrison

Give me love
Give me love
Give me peace on earth
Give me light
Give me life
Keep me free from birth
Give me hope
Help me cope, with this heavy load
Trying to, touch and reach you with,
heart and soul

OM M M M M M M M M M M M M M
M M M My Lord . . .

PLEASE take hold of my hand, that
I might understand you

Won't you please
Oh won't you

Give me love
Give me love
Give me peace on earth
Give me light
Give me life
Keep me free from birth
Give me hope
Help me cope, with this heavy load
Trying to, touch and reach you with,
heart and soul

OM M M M M M M M M M M M M M
M M M My Lord . . .

PLEASE take hold of my hand, that
I might understand you

I See the Moon

In honor of the supermoon tonight, a traditional song that expresses both longing and communion.

I SEE THE MOON

I see the moon and the moon sees me
The moon sees the one I long to see
God bless the moon and God bless me
And God bless the one I love

Over the mountain over the sea
Back where my heart is longing to be
Please let the light that shines on me
Shine on the one I love

I see the moon the moon sees me
Down through the leaves of the old oak tree
Please let the light that shines on me
Shine on the one I love

Over the mountain over the sea
Back where my heart is longing to be
Please let the light that shines on me
Shine on the one I love

I hear the lark; the lark hears me,
Singing a song with a melody.
Please let the lark that sings for me
Sing for the one I love.

Over the mountain over the sea
Back where my heart is longing to be
Please let the light that shines on me
Shine on the one I love

I kissed the rose the rose kissed me
Fragrant as only a rose can be
Please take the kiss that comforts me
Back to the one I love

Over the mountain over the sea
Back where my heart is longing to be
Please let the light that shines on me
Shine on the one I love.

Wild Horse

"Wild Horse" by Deb Talan (of The Weepies)

I keep thinking about your eyes
And the shape of your lips
I keep tasting your kiss
And the touch of your hand
Is still on my hip

It's a wild horse and I can't break it... alone
Tosses his head like he knows me - been waiting
It's a wild horse but I can take it
I can take it, I can take it down...

This hunger for you
It's near enough to have
And it's an open door
Not like what I had before
Always wanting more... more

It's a wild horse and I can't break it... alone
Tosses his head like he knows me - been waiting
It's a wild horse but I can take it
I can take it, I can take it down
Take it down, take it down
I want to take you down with me...

Keep hearing your voice
Like the ocean in a shell
Deep inside my heart I feel it
And it echoes... it echoes

It's a wild horse and I can't break it... alone
Tosses his head like he knows me - been waiting
It's a wild horse but I can take it
I can take it, I can take it down
Take it down, take it down
I want to take you down with me...

I keep thinking about your eyes
and the shape of your lips
I keep tasting your kiss
And the touch of your hand
Is still on my hip

By Itself Alone

Always insights from the dear lady of Amherst...

Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924.

Part Five: The Single Hound
CXVI

LOVE reckons by itself alone,
“As large as I” relate the Sun
To one who never felt it blaze,
Itself is all the like it has.

Waiting, like an animal, for poetry

"That Everything's Inevitable" by Katy Lederer

That everything's inevitable.
That fate is whatever has already happened.
The brain, which is as elemental, as sane, as the rest of the processing universe is.
In this world, I am the surest thing.
Scrunched-up arms, folded legs, lovely destitute eyes.
Please insert your spare coins.
I am filling them up.
Please insert your spare vision, your vigor, your vim.
But yet, I am a vatic one.
As vatic as the Vatican.
In the temper and the tantrum, in the well-kept arboretum
I am waiting, like an animal,
For poetry.

And Sometimes, Just a Good Cry

"Winter" by Tori Amos

Snow can wait
I forgot my mittens
Wipe my nose
Get my new boots on
I get a little warm in my heart
When I think of winter
I put my hand in my father's glove
I run off
Where the drifts get deeper
Sleeping beauty trips me with a frown
I hear a voice
"Your must learn to stand up for yourself
Cause I can't always be around"
He says
When you gonna make up your mind
When you gonna love you as much as I do
When you gonna make up your mind
Cause things are gonna change so fast
All the white horses are still in bed
I tell you that I'll always want you near
You say that things change my dear

Boys get discovered as winter melts
Flowers competing for the sun
Years go by and I'm here still waiting Withering where some snowman was
Mirror mirror where's the crystal palace
But I only can see myself
Skating around the truth who I am
But I know dad the ice is getting thin

When you gonna make up your mind
When you gonna love you as much as I do
When you gonna make up your mind
Cause things are gonna change so fast
All the white horses are still in bed
I tell you that I'll always want you near
You say that things change my dear

Hair is grey
And the fires are burning
So many dreams
On the shelf
You say I wanted you to be proud of me
I always wanted that myself

He says
When you gonna make up your mind
When you gonna love you as much as I do
When you gonna make up your mind
Cause things are gonna change so fast
All the white horses have gone ahead
I tell you that I'll always want you near
You say that things change
My dear

Won't You Come out to Play?

This is one of my very favorite songs to sing. It's more strident than the original, but it suits me.

Performance From the Night of John Lennon Music & Lyrics - in New York, not long after 9/11.

Dear Prudence
Won't you come out to play
Dear Prudence
Greet the brand new day
The sun is up the sky is blue
It's beautiful and so are you
Dear Prudence
Won't you come out to play

Dear Prudence
Open up your eyes
Dear Prudence
See the sunny skies
The wind is low, the birds will sing
That you are part of everything
Dear Prudence
Won't you open up your eyes

Look around, around
Look around, round, round, round, round
Look around ~

Dear Prudence
Let me see you smile
Dear Prudence
Like a little child
The clouds will be a daisychain
So let me see you smile again
Dear Prudence
Won't you let me see you smile

Dear Prudence
Won't you come out to play
Dear Prudence
Greet the brand new day
The sun is up
the sky is blue
It's beautiful
And so are you

Dear Prudence
Won't you come out to play

Look around, round, round, round, round
Look around, round, round, round, round
Look around, round, round, round, round
Look around, round, round, round, round

mahh ahhhh ohhhh-ahh aaa-oh
mahh ahhhh ohhhh-ahh aaa-oh

We can work it out
We can work it out
We can work it out

Some things you do for money and some you do for love love love

"Love Love Love" - The Mountain Goats

King Saul fell on his sword
when it all went wrong
and Joseph's brother sold him down the river for a song
and Sonny Liston rubbed some tiger balm into his glove

Some things you do for money
and some you do for Love Love Love

Raskalnikov felt sick
and he couldn't say why
when he saw his face reflected
in his victim's twinkling eye

Some things you'll do for money
some you'll do for fun
but the things you do for love are gonna come back
one by one

Love love is gonna lead you be the hand
into a white and soundless place

Now we see things
as in a mirror dimly
then we shall see each other
face
to face

And way out in Seattle,
young Kurt Cobain
snuck out to the greenhouse
and put a bullet in his brain

Snakes in the grass beneath our feet
rain in the clouds above
some moments last forever
but some flair out
with love love love

Mameen

Mameen – David Whyte

Be infinitesimal under that sky, a creature
even the sailing hawk misses, a wraith
among the rocks where the mist parts slowly.

Recall the way mere mortals are overwhelmed
by circumstance, how great reputations
dissolve with infirmity and how you,
in particular, live a hairsbreadth from losing
everyone you hold dear.

Then, look back down the path as if seeing
your past and then south over the hazy blue
coast as if present to a wide future.

Remember the way you are all possibilities
you can see and how you live best
as an appreciator of horizons,
whether you reach them or not.

Admit that once you have got up
from your chair and opened the door,
once you have walked out into the clean air
toward that edge and taken the path up high
beyond the ordinary, you have become
the privileged and the pilgrim,
the one who will tell the story
and the one, coming back
from the mountain,
who helped to make it.

from River Flow
©2007 Many Rivers Press

Thanks, Cyndi.

Feet on the Ground

Sleep to Dream by Fiona Apple is my song for the day. Strength that is all female, all the time.

I tell you how I feel, but you don't care
I say tell me the truth, but you don't dare
You say love is a hell you cannot bear
And I say gimme mine back and then go there - for all I care

I got my feet on the ground
And I don't go to sleep to dream
You got your head in the clouds
And you're not at all what you seem
This mind, this body
And this voice cannot be stifled by your deviant ways
So don't forget what I told you
Don't come around, I got my own hell to raise

I have never been so insulted in all my life
I could swallow the seas to wash down all this pride
First you run like a fool just to be at my side
And now you run like a fool
But you just run to hide, and I can't abide

I got my feet on the ground
And I don't go to sleep to dream
You got your head in the clouds
And you're not at all what you seem
This mind, this body
And this voice cannot be stifled by your deviant ways
So don't forget what I told you
Don't come around, I got my own hell to raise

Don't make it a big deal, don't be so sensitive
We're not playing a game anymore
You don't have to be so defensive
Don't you plead me your case, don't bother to explain
Don't even show me your face, 'cause it's a crying shame
Just go back to the rock from under which you came
Take the sorrow you gave and all the stakes you claim -
And don't forget the blame

I got my feet on the ground
And I don't go to sleep to dream
You got your head in the clouds
And you're not at all what you seem
This mind, this body
And this voice cannot be stifled by your deviant ways
So don't forget what I told you
Don't come around, I got my own hell to raise