F. CHOPIN. OP. 72, N9 1

 by William ShakespeareMusic to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
Why lov’st thou that which thou receiv’st not gladly,
Or else receiv’st with pleasure thine annoy?
If the true concord of well-tunèd sounds,
By unions married, do offend thine ear,
They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds
In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.
Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering,
Resembling sire and child and happy mother,
Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing;
Whose speechless song being many, seeming one,
Sings this to thee: “Thou single wilt prove none.” 

* 

 .

Anne Sexton - Killing The Love

I am the love killer,
I am murdering the music we thought so special,
that blazed between us, over and over.
I am murdering me, where I kneeled at your kiss.
I am pushing knives through the hands
that created two into one.
Our hands do not bleed at this,
they lie still in their dishonor.
I am taking the boats of our beds
and swamping them, letting them cough on the sea
and choke on it and go down into nothing.
I am stuffing your mouth with your
promises and watching
you vomit them out upon my face.
The Camp we directed?
I have gassed the campers.

Now I am alone with the dead,
flying off bridges,
hurling myself like a beer can into the wastebasket.
I am flying like a single red rose,
leaving a jet stream
of solitude
and yet I feel nothing,
though I fly and hurl,
my insides are empty
and my face is as blank as a wall.

Shall I call the funeral director?
He could put our two bodies into one pink casket,
those bodies from before,
and someone might send flowers,
and someone might come to mourn
and it would be in the obits,
and people would know that something died,
is no more, speaks no more, won't even
drive a car again and all of that.

When a life is over,
the one you were living for,
where do you go?

I'll work nights.
I'll dance in the city.
I'll wear red for a burning.
I'll look at the Charles very carefully,
weraing its long legs of neon.
And the cars will go by.
The cars will go by.
And there'll be no scream
from the lady in the red dress
dancing on her own Ellis Island,
who turns in circles,
dancing alone
as the cars go by.

by, Edgar Allan Poe. 

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

.

LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. LOVE IS A MAD DOG FROM HELL. 

The vocal folds, also known commonly as vocal cords, are composed of twin infoldings of mucous membrane stretched horizontally across the larynx. They vibrate, modulating the flow of air being expelled from the lungs during phonation.^[1][2][3]

Open during inhalation, closed when holding one’s breath, and vibrating for speech or singing (oscillating 440 times per second when singing A above middle C), the folds are controlled via the vagus nerve. They are white because of scant blood circulation.

Birds do not produce vocal sounds by means of vocal folds but by oscillations of membranes in the syrinx.

There was a king who had twelve beautiful daughters. They slept in twelve beds all in one room and when they went to bed, the doors were shut and locked up. However, every morning their shoes were found to be quite worn through as if they had been danced in all night. Nobody could find out how it happened, or where the princesses had been.

Down they all went, and at the bottom they found themselves in a most delightful grove of trees; and the leaves were all of silver, and glittered and sparkled beautifully. They came to another grove of trees, where all the leaves were of gold; and afterwards to a third, where the leaves were all glittering diamonds. On the other side of the lake stood a fine, illuminated castle from which came the merry music of horns and trumpets. There they all landed, and went into the castle, and each prince danced with his princess.

They danced on till three o’clock in the morning, and then all their shoes were worn out, so that they were obliged to leave.

 

To read the whole story of the twelve dancing princesses by The Brothers Grimm, visit SurLaLune. You can also check out versions from around the world it’s all so very intriguing!