Tuesday, 25 September 2012
Saturday, 18 August 2012
Friday, 3 August 2012
I've designed a new blog!
Just a quick little message to announce that I've created a new blog exclusively for my graphic designs! I shall hopefully be uploading new designs regularly and have plans to display some of my photography too.
Please feel free to click on the link and follow my new blog if you like what you see!!
Thank you!
Wednesday, 1 August 2012
Tuesday, 31 July 2012
Monday, 30 July 2012
Sunday, 29 July 2012
Saturday, 28 July 2012
Monday, 9 July 2012
Sunday, 8 July 2012
Friday, 22 June 2012
Shakespeare's "As You Like It" - Jacques' Monologue - (with Animated Clip)
Act
II: Scene VII
JAQUES:
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
By
William Shakespeare
(1564-1616)
Here's a little clip that I edited from "Shakespeare's Animated Tales"
Tuesday, 12 June 2012
Monday, 11 June 2012
My Sneaking Tears - Mark R. Slaughter
How heavy fell the rain that day
From burdened clouds of mournful grey.
The torrent forced them stay their height -
Composure swayed by onerous might.
My skin wrung wet with icy chill
As mud embraced that sodden hill;
But mind of mine had elsewhere gone -
'Twas clouds abandoned I was on.
The driving drops advanced their gears
To camouflage my sneaking tears -
Whence now did swell such floods of pain
To see me melt into this rain…
On equal bearing now were we:
This rain, myself, in harmony.
Friday, 18 May 2012
Alban Berg to Helene Nahowski - Thursday - spring 1909
And there's no wonder seeing that I myself have become so entirely your 'creation'. All my possessions and even thought are somehow a loan or gift from you. Dressing in the morning, for instance, when I get an idea for a theme, a mood, or sometimes even a single chord, at best a whole extended melody - then I always feel it has come flying in from you. It's the same with everything: if I read something out of the ordinary, with difficult parts in it, I imagine myself understanding those parts and penetrating its mysteries only through you, Helene. I mean this reading in the wildest sense. If I look at nature with the eyes of a sensitive reader, when I hear music or see paintings or - but why go on with a list of all the things which have come to life in me only through you?
Oh, Helene, how can I live without you!
I am completely yours
Monday, 26 March 2012
Monday, 16 January 2012
Sunday, 15 January 2012
'Alice in Wonderland'
The Mouse's Tale
by Lewis Carroll
"Mine is a long and a sad tale!" said the Mouse, turning to Alice, and sighing.
"It is a long tail, certainly," said Alice, looking down with wonder at the Mouse's tail; "but why do you call it sad?" And she kept on puzzling about it while the Mouse was speaking, so that her idea of the tale was something like this:
Fury said to a mouse,
That he met in the
house, 'Let us
both go to law:
I will prosecute
you.-- Come, I'll
take no denial;
We must have
a trial: For
really this
morning I've
nothing to do.'
Said the mouse
to the cur,
'Such a trial,
dear Sir, With
no jury or
judge, would
be wasting
our breath.'
'I'll be
judge, I'll
be jury,'
Said cunning
old Fury:
'I'll try
the whole
cause, and
condemn
you
to
death.'"You are not attending!" said the Mouse to Alice, severely. "What are you thinking of?"
"I beg your pardon," said Alice very humbly, "you had got to the fifth bend, I think?"
"I had not!" cried the Mouse sharply and very angrily.
"A knot!" said Alice, always ready to make herself useful, and looking anxiously about her. "Oh, let me help to undo it!"
"I shall do nothing of the sort,” said the Mouse, getting up and walking away.
"You insult me by talking such nonsense!"
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