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beliebste motivationsrede.
Where true Love burns Desire is Love’s pure flame; It is the reflex of our earthly frame, That takes its meaning from the nobler part, And but translates the language of the heart.
Desire:Coleridge
#fasterthanyourmaster
The two trees
“Beloved, gaze in thine own heart, The holy tree is growing there; From joy the holy branches start, And all the trembling flowers they bear. The changing colours of its fruit Have dowered the stars with merry light; The surety of its hidden root Has planted quiet in the night; The shaking of its leafy head Has given the waves their melody, And made my lips and music wed, Murmuring a wizard song for thee. There, through bewildered branches, go Winged Loves borne on in gentle strife, Tossing and tossing to and fro The flaming circle of our life. When looking on their shaken hair, And dreaming how they dance and dart, Thine eyes grow full of tender care: Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.
Gaze no more in the bitter glass The demons, with their subtle guile, Lift up before us when they pass, Or only gaze a little while; For there a fatal image grows, With broken boughs, and blackened leaves, And roots half hidden under snows Driven by a storm that ever grieves. For all things turn to barrenness In the dim glass the demons hold, The glass of outer weariness, Made when God slept in times of old. There through the broken branches, go The ravens of unresting thought; Peering and flying to and fro To see men's souls bartered and bought. When they are heard upon the wind, And when they shake their wings; alas! Thy tender eyes grow all unkind: Gaze no more in the bitter glass.
No, you are not the nameless master of the world, the one on whom history had lost its hold, the one who no longer felt the rain falling, who did not see the approach of night. You are no longer the inaccessible, the limpid, the transparent one. You are afraid, you are waiting. You are waiting, on Place Clichy, for the rain to stop falling.
This is John Maus's (presumed) first release, and it's an EP. The first two tracks haven't been located, and the album art is unknown as well. This is presum...
The song "Mack the Knife" was witten by Kurt Weill for his wife Lotte Lenya. Here Ms Lenya sings "Mack the Knife" in its original German.
It is from this hesitation also that the Romantic inclination toward the tragic, the sublime, and the uncanny stem, aesthetic categories lingering between pro- jection and perception, form and the unformable, coherence and chaos, corruption and innocence.
Might just be one of the most beautiful songs ever.
Other Suhrkamp allies have been less diplomatic. Author Peter Handke has called Barlach "an abyss of evil", fellow writer Rainald Goetz has described him as acting like a "blunt automaton", while former culture minister Michael Naumann said Barlach was to Suhrkamp as a bicycle bell was to a Bach fugue.