I’m a maker of ballads right pretty I write them right here in the street You can buy them all over the cityyours for a penny a sheet I’m a word pecker out of the printersout of the dens of Gin LaneI’ll write up a scene on a counter- confessions and sins in the main, boysconfessions and sins in the main Then you’ll find me in Madame Geneva’skeeping the demons at bay There’s nothing like gin for drowning them inbut they’ll always be back on a hanging day, on a hanging day They come rattling over the cobblesthey sit on their coffins of black Some are struck dumb, some gabbletop-heavy on brandy or sack The pews are all full of fine fellowsand the hawker has set up her shop As they’re turning them off at the gallowsshe’ll be selling right under the drop, boysselling right under the drop Then you’ll find me in Madame Geneva’skeeping the demons at bay There’s nothing like gin for drowning them inbut they’ll always be back on a hanging day, on a hanging day . Mark Knopfler
It isn't possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.
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E.m. Forster
Maybe you could be mine / or maybe we’ll be entwined / aimless in this sexless foreplay.
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Jess C. Scott
When Great Trees FallWhen great trees fall, rocks on distant hills shudder, lions hunker downin tall grasses, and even elephantslumber after safety. When great trees fallin forests, small things recoil into silence, their senseseroded beyond fear. When great souls die, the air around us becomeslight,...
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Maya Angelou
Blessed are the weird people: poets, misfits, writersmystics, painters, troubadoursfor they teach us to see the world through different eyes.
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Jacob Nordby
Even if you are alone you wage war with yourself.
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Dejan Stojanovic
More Quotes By Mark Knopfler
We prayed these wars would end all wars --In war we know is no romance.")
There's so many different worlds, so many different suns. And we have just one world, but we live in different ones.
We prayed these wars would end all wars --In war we know is no rom
The drinking dens are spilling out There's staggering in the square There's lads and lasses falling about And a crackling in the air Down around the dungeon doors The shelters and the queues Everybody's looking for Somebody's arms to fall into And it's what it...
This empty kitchen's where I'd while away the hours Just next to my old chair You'd usually have some flowers The shelves of books Even the picture hooks Everything is gone But my heart is hanging on If this old neighborhood Survived us both alright...
