Arts & Humanities - 9 August 2007

I really wish that then I'd name my kid the first name of the famous person does anyone here have a famous person's last name (especially if it was Simpson, LOL Homer Simpson) please name your kid that but if your wondering how is this a questions its do you have a famous person's last name?

2007-08-09 11:46:47 · 11 answers · asked by Anonymous in Genealogy

I think it were the Gurkhalis from Nepal who served British in the two world wars. They fought with their daggers against guns of enemies. People even say that even Samurai's were afraid of Gurkha. They still serve the British and Indian army and are one of hte strongest batallion in the whole army even in these days where there are a lot of modern weapons.

2007-08-09 11:45:57 · 12 answers · asked by aerorabins 2 in History

Was he an important person what made him disappear

2007-08-09 11:45:40 · 10 answers · asked by El Greco 2 in History

I read the book because it is a classic, and I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. I don't understand it. I just thought it was a story of the boy that ended really weird. Can someone help me out?

2007-08-09 11:42:15 · 12 answers · asked by Anonymous in Books & Authors

2007-08-09 11:40:20 · 16 answers · asked by mstrywmn 7 in Philosophy

My vote is for the Aeneid.

2007-08-09 11:38:02 · 3 answers · asked by Anonymous in History

In this hypothetical Q., you are auctioning yourself off to the highest bidder for life, if they pay the reserve. The winning bidder agrees not to harm you according to the laws by which parents can raise their children e.g. the winner could, if he/she so wished, feed you only on cornflakes, stop you from seeing anyone, control how you spend your time, when you must sleep, how much money you shall have (if any), etc. Also, if they wish, you would be their 'partner' according to the legal guidelines for a married couple.

2007-08-09 11:37:27 · 9 answers · asked by Anonymous in Philosophy

The most shocking moment for me was when Dumbledore died. I thought he would make it until the end. Sirius' death was also shocking.

DISCLAIMER: For those who have not read the final Harry Potter book, do not answer this question. Somebody might give away the ending.

2007-08-09 11:33:47 · 30 answers · asked by jcl32791 2 in Books & Authors

What to colors go together!! Like brown and yellow

2007-08-09 11:31:55 · 10 answers · asked by Anonymous in Other - Visual Arts

hi this is nichole's friend, vanessa =]

and i was just wondering, what's the origin of the last name vandiver? me father says its dutch, but i think it might be german. . .?

2007-08-09 11:30:44 · 4 answers · asked by Anonymous in Genealogy

Something along the lines of Donnie Darko. A male lead and that sort of vibe would be ideal, although any recommendations are welcome.

2007-08-09 11:17:54 · 10 answers · asked by Anonymous in Books & Authors

I need answers to this question ASAP please!

2007-08-09 11:17:32 · 1 answers · asked by Anonymous in Other - Visual Arts

2007-08-09 11:17:14 · 7 answers · asked by mashamontago 1 in Poetry

When you read a fantasy novel, do you want the author to go on for several pages describing how beautiful the scenery is, so that you get a clear picture of how it looks? Or do you think that this makes the story drag on unnecessarily?

Or do you prefer descriptions that are short and concise, so that you are allowed to use your imagination to visualize how to rest of the scenery looks. And do you think that short descriptions help your story to flow and keep a good pace?

2007-08-09 11:16:25 · 10 answers · asked by Anonymous in Books & Authors

Just incase that link got cut off here it is http://www-atdp.berkeley.edu/Studentpages/dgomez/OldEng.gif

2007-08-09 11:02:42 · 2 answers · asked by Anonymous in Other - Visual Arts

It's by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

2007-08-09 11:01:17 · 1 answers · asked by Dani 2 in Books & Authors

Mine's Siddhartha. Ugh. Worst, most crappy, boring book ever!

2007-08-09 10:58:38 · 29 answers · asked by hottiecj *~♥~*~♥~* 4 in Books & Authors

May be there is a sacrifice in both. Should life have sense to be lived?

2007-08-09 10:57:26 · 11 answers · asked by Maximo A 3 in Philosophy

2007-08-09 10:57:22 · 16 answers · asked by Daniel R 2 in Philosophy

If so, why? Serious answers, no religious crap.

2007-08-09 10:55:48 · 28 answers · asked by Anonymous in Philosophy

2007-08-09 10:52:34 · 5 answers · asked by ccmogan 1 in History

Ive got various questions regarding this school. I'm wanting to attend this school and take some acting classes at a professional studio to begin my acting career. What are the requirements to get into this school. I know you have to audition, but is that it?Just audition? Also, how much does it cost to get into that school?

2007-08-09 10:51:34 · 2 answers · asked by xist2spire 1 in Performing Arts

i dont want to like fail in life if i dont get in or make it to tv or movies and such. but im also scared that it would be way too hard what should i do?

2007-08-09 10:51:03 · 4 answers · asked by Anonymous in Performing Arts

2007-08-09 10:49:54 · 1 answers · asked by Lee V 1 in History

Looking for this font (or something similar), I want to to the number 11 in it. Thanks!

http://blog.sub-studio.com/images/2007/0108anthropologie.jpg

2007-08-09 10:48:57 · 3 answers · asked by Daniel L 1 in Other - Visual Arts

why do we fall in love,,,,,and its yet so hard to get out of it?

2007-08-09 10:48:00 · 8 answers · asked by ? 2 in Philosophy

2007-08-09 10:47:42 · 6 answers · asked by dani 2 in Performing Arts

*****
Speak Up!

Small voices trembling,
Bringing forward offerings of verse,
Laid before the minion, a clipped council,
Cloaked, with their terse bursts of malcontent,

Then a maiden fair,
With shining jewel of prose profound,
At the sepulcher of mediocrity,
Shows a light quite rare and beautiful,

Crackling cheeks fight back smiles,
Gathering stars and thumbs, dusty, unspent,
As she speaks her rhyming crescendo,
Cold hearts deny their joy no more, in tears.

*****

2007-08-09 10:42:56 · 12 answers · asked by TD Euwaite? 6 in Poetry

"ELEGY WRITTEN IN
A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD"

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The ****'s shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care:
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share,

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the Poor.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike th' inevitable hour:-
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Nor you, ye Proud, impute to these the fault
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre:

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.

Th' applause of list'ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes,

Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,

The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.

Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?

On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, --

Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn;

'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high.
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.

'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove;
Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.

'One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his favourite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;

'The next with dirges due in sad array
Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne,-
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'

The Epitaph

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melacholy marked him for her own.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Misery all he had, a tear,
He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.

No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
(There they alike in trembling hope repose),
The bosom of his Father and his God.

By Thomas Gray (1716-71).

2007-08-09 10:40:42 · 18 answers · asked by Anonymous in History

2007-08-09 10:36:33 · 10 answers · asked by 32characters 1 in Philosophy