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jfp

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About jfp

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  • Birthday February 20

core_pfieldgroups_99

  • Biography
    jfp = John from Paris [where I've now been "from" for over 28 years]
  • Location
    Paris
  • Interests
    Reading (mainly fiction, in English and French...); baritone in semi-professional choir; pianist.
  • How did you hear about this site?
    Thanks to my Aussie friend Kimberley

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    Male

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  1. EDGAR Draw thy sword, That, if my speech offend a noble heart, Thy arm may do thee justice. Here is mine. Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours, My oath, and my profession. I protest- Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence, Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune, Thy valour and thy heart- thou art a traitor; False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father; Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince; And from th' extremest upward of thy head To the descent and dust beneath thy foot, A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou 'no,' This sword,
  2. I Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of the blackbird. II I was of three minds, Like a tree In which there are three blackbirds. III The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds. It was a small part of the pantomime. IV A man and a woman Are one. A man and a woman and a blackbird Are one. V I do not know which to prefer, The beauty of inflections Or the beauty of innuendoes, The blackbird whistling Or just after.
  3. ORSINO If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before. O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou, That, notwithstanding thy capacity Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, Of what validity and pitch soe'er, But falls into abatement and low price, Even in a minute: so full of shapes is
  4. KATHERINA The more my wrong, the more his spite appears. What, did he marry me to famish me? Beggars that come unto my father's door Upon entreaty have a present alms; If not, elsewhere they meet with charity; But I, who never knew how to entreat, Nor never needed that I should entreat, Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep; With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed; And that which spites me more than all these wants- He does it under name of perfect love; As who should say, if I should sleep or eat, 'Twere deadly sickness or else present death. I prit
  5. I studied 'East Coker' (and 'Little Gidding') for English literature A-level. We had an excellent teacher, and it all seemed to make sense. Over forty years later, I'm again mystified. I That is no country for old men. The young In one another's arms, birds in the trees, —Those dying generations—at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing intellect. II An aged man is but a paltr
  6. Hereto I come to view a voiceless ghost; Whither, O whither will its whim now draw me? Up the cliff, down, till I'm lonely, lost, And the unseen waters' ejaculations awe me. Where you will next be there's no knowing, Facing round about me everywhere, With your nut-coloured hair, And gray eyes, and rose-flush coming and going. Yes: I have re-entered your olden haunts at last; Through the years, through the dead scenes I have tracked you; What have you now found to say of our past - Scanned across the dark space wherein I have lacked yo
  7. I'm still here, Meg and Heather! I've been rather busy of late... They that have power to hurt and will do none, That do not do the thing they most do show, Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow: They rightly do inherit heaven's graces And husband nature's riches from expense; They are the lords and owners of their faces, Others but stewards of their excellence. The summer's flower is to the summer sweet Though to itself it only live and die, But if that flower with base infection meet, The bas
  8. Meg: I echo Luna's sentiments. I also share her disappointment and her resentment. Common courtesy is not often a feature of on-line relationships, alas. When I decided last year, to stop posting completely, I mentioned the fact on the Poetic Wanderings thread, and you wondered if it was anything you had done... I gave a brief explanation to Nick/MisterHobgoblin in a Facebook message, assuming he would pass it on to other moderators. But he too has disappeared from BGO. A few months ago I returned to the Poetic Wanderings thread, having found I missed it. In
  9. I stand by my opinion.
  10. Distinctly sorry to read the above observations. Especially that Hazel, as it seems, just f*cked off without a with-your-leave or a by-your leave. I'd (vaguely) understood she had more integrity than that. But of course one never knows. Sorry to have been disappointed in that respect. John
  11. ROSALIND Alas, what danger will it be to us, Maids as we are, to travel forth so far! Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. CELIA I'll put myself in poor and mean attire, And with a kind of umber smirch my face; The like do you; so shall we pass along, And never stir assailants. ROSALIND Were it not better, Because that I am more than common tall, That I did suit me all points like a man? A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh, A boar spear in my hand; and - in my heart Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will - We'll have a swashing and a m
  12. CLAUDIUS 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, To give these mourning duties to your father; But you must know, your father lost a father; That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound In filial obligation for some term To do obsequious sorrow. But to persever In obstinate condolement is a course Of impious stubbornness. 'Tis unmanly grief; It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, A heart unfortified, a mind impatient, An understanding simple and unschool'd; For what we know must be, and is as common As any the most vulgar thing to sense, Why s
  13. GERTRUDE There is a willow grows aslant a brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream. There with fantastic garlands did she come Of crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them. There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke, When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up; Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes, As one inca
  14. Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes, Nibble their toast and cool their tea with sighs; Or else forget the purpose of the night, Forget their tea, forget their appetite. See, with cross'd arms they sit -- Ah! hapless crew, The fire is going out and no one rings For coals, and therefore no coals Betty brings. A fly is in the milk-pot. Must he die Circled by a humane Society? No, no; there, Mr. Werter takes his spoon, Inverts it, dips the handle, and lo! soon The little struggler, sav'd from perils dark, Across the teaboard draws a long wet mark.
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