This site is dedicated to the memory of Dr. Alan William Smolowe who gave birth to the creation of this database.
Songs of Innocence (Introduction) - Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: ‘Pipe a song about a Lamb!’ So I piped with merry cheer. ‘Piper, pipe that song again;’ So I piped; he wept to hear. ‘Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy songs of happy cheer:’ So I sang the same again, While he wept with joy to hear. ‘Piper, sit thee down and write In a book, that all may read.’ So he vanish’d from my sight, And I pluck’d a hollow reed, And I made a rural pen, And I stain’d the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear.
Angels | Comfort | Darkness | Day | Death | Eternal | Family | Grave | Heaven | Joy | Light | Little | Mother | Nature | Silence | Sin | Sorrow | Soul | Sound | Space | Spirit | Tears | Thinking | Woman | World | Youth | Youth |
William Dement, fully William Charles Dement
The biological clock is responsive to light at certain times... Bright light in the morning will tend to advance the clock. In other words, alertness will occur earlier and sleep will occur earlier.
Children | Eternal | Faith | God | Happy | Heart | Hope | Joy | Music | People | Rule | Scandal | Shame | Smile | Soul | Will | Work | God |
Man’s own form in space – his body – was a private prison; and that it was because of this imprisoning misery – because he was hungry and overworked and went to a horrid place called home late at night in the rain, and his bones ached and his head was heavy.
Watercolors is the first and the last thing an artist does.
In the Italian Renaissance… there was no ‘subject-matter’. What we call subject matter now, was then painting itself. Subject matter came later on when parts of those works were taken out arbitrarily, when a man for no reason is sitting, standing or ling down. He became a bather, she became a bather; she was reclining; he just stood there looking ahead. That is when the posing in panting began… For really, when you think of all the life and death problems in the art of Renaissance, who cares if a Chevalier is laughing or that a young girl has a red blouse on.
Angels | Art | Change | Cost | Depression | Extravagance | Man | Money | Music | Relationship | Art | Friends |
In conclusion, I have endeavored, with what success has been already determined by the voice of my own country, to give a panorama of Irish life among the people … and in doing this, I can say with solemn truth that I painted them honestly and without reference to the existence of any particular creed or party.
Adventure | Appetite | Battle | Beauty | Consciousness | Consequences | Father | Fighting | Friend | Influence | Love | Man | Means | Mirth | Nothing | Sense | Silence | Spirit | Vengeance | Will | Woe | Beauty | Friends |
How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude; but grant me still a friend in my retreat, whom I may whisper--solitude it sweet.
Wilkie Collins, fully William Wilkie Collins
Life is a comedy to those who think, and a tragedy to those who feel.
We declare war with the wages system, which demoralizes alike the hirer and the hired, cheats both, and enslaves the workingman.
Music |
You beg for happiness in life, but security is more important to you, even if it costs you your spine or your life. Your life will be good and secure when aliveness will mean more to you than security; love more than money; your freedom more than party line or public opinion; when your thinking will be in harmony with your feelings; when the teachers of your children will be better paid than the politicians; when you will have more respect for the love between man and woman than for a marriage license.
Body | Children | Little | Music | Woman | Learn | Think | Understand |
Walt Whitman, fully Walter "Walt" Whitman
All space, all time, the stars, the terrible perturbations of the suns, Swelling, collapsing, ending, serving their longer, shorter use, fill'd with eidolons only. The noiseless myriads, the infinite oceans where the rivers empty, the separate countless free identities, like eyesight, the true realities, eidolons. Not this the world, nor these the universes, they the universes, purport and end, ever the permanent life of life, eidolons, eidolons...
Music |
Walt Whitman, fully Walter "Walt" Whitman
Hushed be the camps to-day. No more for him life's stormy conflicts, nor victory, nor defeat ? no more time's dark events.
Walt Whitman, fully Walter "Walt" Whitman
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love if you want me again look for me under your boot-soles. You will hardly know who I am or what I mean but I shall be good health to you nonetheless and filter and fibre your blood.
Argument | Custom | God | Knowledge | Little | Men | Mind | Music | Peace | Promise | Spirit | God |