More Things Than Are Dreamt Of: TALES of HOFFMAN: LUDMILLA TCHERINA: Post 3

Friday, December 17, 2010

TALES of HOFFMAN: LUDMILLA TCHERINA: Post 3

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"Will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly;

"'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you may spy.
The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And I have many curious things to show when you are there."
"Oh no, no," said the little fly; "to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."

"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high.
Well you rest upon my little bed?" said the spider to the fly.
"There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest a while, I'll snugly tuck you in!"
"Oh no, no," said the little fly, "for I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again who sleep upon your bed!"

Said the cunning spider to the fly: "Dear friend, what can I do
To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome - will you please to take a slice?"
"Oh no, no," said the little fly; "kind sir, that cannot be:
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"

"Sweet creature!" said the spider, "you're witty and you're wise;
How handsome are your gauzy wings; how brilliant are your eyes!
I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf;
If you'd step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."
"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased to say,
And, bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."

The spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly fly would soon come back again:
So he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready to dine upon the fly;
Then came out to his door again and merrily did sing:
"Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple; there's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer grew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes and green and purple hue,
Thinking only of her crested head. Poor, foolish thing! at last
Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast;
He dragged her up his winding stair, into the dismal den -
Within his little parlor - but she ne'er came out again!

And now, dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words I pray you ne'er give heed;
Unto an evil counselor close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale of the spider and the fly.

Mary Howitt (1799-1888)

THE OWL AND THE PUSSYCAT by EDWARD LEAR (a favorite poem of my childhood)

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!'

Pussy said to the Owl, 'You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?'
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

III

'Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?' Said the Piggy, 'I will.'
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

Quotes

"Trust your instincts. If you have no instincts, trust your impulses." Noel Coward
"I love criticism just so long as it's unqualified praise." Noel Coward
"I am not a heavy drinker. I can sometimes go for hours without touching a drop." Noel Coward
"Style is a simple way of saying complicated things." Jean Cocteau
"The extreme limit of wisdom, that's what the public calls madness." Jean Cocteau
"The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth." Jean Cocteau
“Talking about dreams is like talking about movies, since the cinema uses the language of dreams; years can pass in a second and you can hop from one place to another. It’s a language made of image. And in the real cinema, every object and every light means something, as in a dream.” Federico Fellini
“One person's crazyness is another person's reality.” Tim Burton
"You can be young without money but you can't be old without it." Tennessee Williams
"I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." Tennessee Williams
"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere's Fan, 1892, Act III
"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself." Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray, 1891
"One can always be kind to people about whom one cares nothing." Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray, 1891
"To get back my youth I would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable." Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray, 1891
"The aim of life is self-development. To realize one's nature perfectly - that is what each of us is here for." Oscar Wilde
"Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live." Oscar Wilde
“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.” Oscar Wilde
“Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.” Mahatma Gandhi
"Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears." Edgar Allan Poe
"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream." Edgar Allan Poe,
"Sleep, those little slices of death; Oh how I loathe them." Edgar Allan Poe

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More Things Than Are Dreamt Of