呵，，，我喜欢的英文歌基本上是听不出来在唱什么的。
Nothing to lose 真的好好听，有些感动！
jmdf009在 2005-6-3 09:54 PM 发表:
至于Sting....
我还是比较喜欢那首..
SHAPE OF MY HEART..
Shape Of My Heart(这个杀手不太冷)
有关职业杀手的故事，古今中外已拍过无限次，不过此片将动作及感情共冶一炉，拍出别树一格的法国式杀手片。人物关系充满戏剧元素，一个孤独杀手与一个十二岁的小女孩之间发生的微妙感情，亦师亦有患难见真情从此相依为命。导演洛比桑将外冷内热的杀手形象塑造得天衣无缝，而主角尚连奴亦将演技发挥得淋漓尽致。面对目标时心狠手辣是冷血性格的表现，与此同时，日常生活却爱喝牛奶种盆栽，如此细节己充伤反映冷面杀手另一面的纯真性情，甚至最後为救小女孩而断送性命，侠义之情表露无遗。女主角妮坦莉宝雯的演出亦不逊色 ，小小年纪已有令人刮目的表现。Sting的\"Shape of My Heart\"作为其幕后插曲而伴随电影结束.
Shape of my heart－sting
he deals the cards as a meditation
and those he plays never suspect
he doesn\'t play for the money he wins
he don\'t play for respect
he deals the cards to find the answer
the sacred geometry of chance
the hidden law of a probable outcome
the numbers lead a dance
i know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
i know that the clubs are weapons of war
i know that diamonds mean money for this art
but that\'s not the shape of my heart
he may play the jack of diamonds
he may lay the queen of spades
he may conceal a king in his hand
while the memory of it fades
i know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
i know that the clubs are weapons of war
i know that diamonds mean money for this art
but that\'s not the shape of my heart
that\'s not the shape......the shape of my heart
and if i told you that i loved you
you\'d maybe think there\'s something wrong
i\'m not a man of too many faces
the mask i wear is one
well, those who speak know nothin\'
and find out to their cost
like those who curse their luck in too many places
and those who fear are lost
i know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
i know that the clubs are weapons of war
i know that diamonds mean money for this art
but that\'s not the shape of my heart
that\'s not the shape of my heart
that\'s not the shape......the shape of my heart
经典!
green fields－the brothers four
once there were green fields
kissed by the sun
once there were valleys
where rivers used to run
once there were blue skies
with white clouds high above
once there were part of
an everlasting love
we were the lovers who strolled
through green fields
green fields are gone now
parched by the sun
gone from the valleys
where rivers used to run
gone with the cold wind
that swept into my heart
gone with the lovers
who let their dreams depart
where are the green fields
that we used to roam?
i\'ll never know
what made you run away
how can i keep searching
when dark clouds hide the day?
i only know
there\'s nothing here for me
nothing in this wide world
left for me to see
but i\'ll keep on waiting
till you return
i\'ll keep on waiting
until the day you learn
you can\'t be happy
while your hearts on the roam
you can\'t be happy
until you bring it home
home to the green fields and me
once again
Sailing－rod stewart
i am sailing, i am sailing home again \'cross the sea.
i am sailing stormy waters, to be near you, to be free.
i am flying, i am flying like a bird \'cross the sky.
i am flying passing high clouds, to be near you, to be free.
can you hear me, can you hear me, through the dark night far away?
i am dying, forever crying, to be with you; who can say?
can you hear me, can you hear me, through the dark night far away?
i am dying, forever, crying to be with you; who can say?
we are sailing, we are sailing home again \'cross the sea.
we are sailing stormy waters, to be near you, to be free.
oh lord, to be near you, to be free.
oh lord, to be near you, to be free.
oh lord, to be near you, to be free.
oh lord
楼上这首没听过
sailing是rod stewart的经典之作，真的可称百听不厌
还有一首他的I Don\'t Want To Talk About It
I Don\'t Want To Talk About It－rod stewart
i can tell by your eyes that you\'ve prob\'bly been cryin\' forever,
and the stars in the sky don\'t mean nothin\' to you, they\'re a mirror.
i don\'t want to talk about it, how you broke my heart.
if i stay here just a little bit longer,
if i stay here, won\'t you listen to my heart, whoa, heart?
if i stand all alone, will the shadow hide the color of my heart;
blue for the tears, black for the night\'s fears.
the star in the sky don\'t mean nothin\' to you, they\'re a mirror.
i don\'t want to talk about it, how you broke my heart.
if i stay here just a little bit longer,
if i stay here, won\'t you listen to my heart, whoa, heart?
i don\'t want to talk about it, how you broke this ol\' heart.
if i stay here just a little bit longer,
if i stay here, won\'t you listen to my heart, whoa, heart?
my heart, whoa,my heart.
喜欢的歌会去留意歌词.....最近喜欢听I WAS BORN TO LOVE YOU
还好在 2005-6-21 09:39 AM 发表:
喜欢的歌会去留意歌词.....最近喜欢听I WAS BORN TO LOVE YOU
I Was Born To Love You
I was born to love you
With every single beat of my heart
Yes, I was born to take care of you
Every single day...
I was born to love you
With every single beat of my heart
Yes, I was born to take care of you
Every single day of my life
You are the one for me
I am the man for you
You were made for me
you´re my ecstasy
If I was give every opportunity
I´d kill for your love
So take a chance with me
Let me romance with you
I´m caught in a dream
And my dream´s come true
It´s so hard to believe
This is happening to me
An amazing feeling
Comin´ through -
I was born to love you
With every single beat of my heart
Yes, I was born to take care of you
Every single day of my life
I wanna love you
I love every little thing about you
I wanna love you, love you, love you
Born - to love you
Born - to love you
Yes I was born to love you
Born - to love you
Born - to love you
Every single day - of my life
An amazing feeling
Comin´ through
I was born to love you
With every single beat of my heart
Yes, I was born to take care of you
Every single day of my life
Yes I was born to love you
Every single day of my life
Go, I love you babe
Yes, I was born to love you
I wanna love you , love you, love you
I wanna love you
I get so lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely
Yeah, I want to love you
Yeah, give it to me
下载好慢啊,楼主~~~~~~~~~~
crying in the rain－a-ha－how can i sleep wit
i\'ll never let you see
the way my broken heart is hurting me.
i\'ve got my pride.
and i know how to hide
all my sorrow and pain
i\'ll do my crying in the rain.
if i wait for stormy skies
you won\'t know the rain from the tears in my eyes
you\'ll never know
that i still love you so
and the heartaches remain
i\'ll do my crying in the rain.
raindrops falling from heaven
could never take away my misery
since we\'re not together
i pray for stormy weather
to hide these tears i hope you\'ll never see
some day my crying\'s done
i gonna wear a smile and walk in the sun
i may be a fool
but \'til then darling you\'ll
never see me complain
i\'ll do my crying in the rain.
i\'ll do my crying in the rain.
i\'ll do my crying in the...
....rain...
[ Last edited by rockwhy on 2005-7-8 at 09:07 ]
放假回家没事干，下载一些来学一下英语咯～
顺便介绍最近喜欢的几首歌
I know I love you(暂时找不到这首的歌词)
pretty boy
I lie awake at night ,See things in black and white .I\'ve only got you inside my mind .You know you have made me blind .I lie awake and pray .that you will look my way .I have all this longing in my heart .I knew it right from the start .Oh my pretty pretty boy I love you .Like I never ever loved no one before you.Pretty pretty boy of mine .Just tell me you love me too .Oh my pretty pretty boy I need you .Oh my pretty pretty boy I do .Let me inside make me stay right beside you ..I used to write your name .And put it in a frame .And sometime I think I hear you call .
Right from my bedroom wall .You stay a little while .And tough me with your smile .And what can I say to make you mine.To tough out for you in time .Oh my pretty pretty boy I love you
Like I never ever loved no one before you.Pretty pretty boy of mine .Just tell me you love me too .Oh my pretty pretty boy I need you .Oh my pretty pretty boy I do .Let me inside make me stay right beside you .Oh pretty boy pretty boy pretty boy .Say you love me too .Oh my pretty pretty boy I love you .Like I never ever loved no one before you.Pretty pretty boy of mine
Just tell me you love me too .Oh my pretty pretty boy I need you .Oh my pretty pretty boy I do
Let me inside make me stay right beside you
As Long As You Love Me
As long as U love me.只要你爱我就好 .Although loneliness has always been a friend of mine.孤独一直是我的朋友 .I\'m leaving my life in Ur hands.自从你离开我的生活 .People say I\'m crazy & that I am blind.朋友说我疯了太盲目 .Risking it all in a glance.激情总是短暂的 .How you got me blind is still a mystery.你为何能使我如此盲目仍是个谜 .I can\'t get U out of my head.我就是无法忘了你 .Don\'t care what is written in Ur history.我不在乎你过去的种种 .As long as U\'re here with me. 只要你陪在我身边 .I don\'t care who U are.我不在乎你是怎样个人 .Where U\'re from.你从那里来 .What U did.你做过什么 .As long as U love me.只要你爱我就好 .Who U are.你是怎样个人 .Where U\'re from.你从那里来. Don\'t care what U did.我不在乎你做过什么 .
As long as U love me.只要你爱我就好 .Every little thing that U have said & done.所有你说过的话和做过的事 .Feels like it\'s deep within me.都深深的烙印在我心里 .Doesn\'t really matter if U\'re on the run.我甚至于不在乎你是否就要逃开 .It seems like we\'re meant be.我以为我们是一对的 .I\'ve tried hide it so that no one knows.我试着把感情隐藏起来不让任何人知道 .But I guess it shows.但我无法不流露真情 When U look in my eyes.当你凝视着我时 What U did & where U\'re comin from.你做过什么从那里来 .I don\'t care,as long as U love me,baby!我不在乎,只要你爱我就好,宝贝! I Don\'t Care.我不在乎
what i want is what i′ve got - westlife - Westlife
all that i want
in my life
is the feeling of peace
deep within me truly
i took a chance
i let go
i promised myself
that it wouldn’t scare me
miracles appear i know
now i an see it show
’cause i
found out what i dreamt of
and i looked it up
at this very moment
what i want it what i’ve got
found out what was missing
and i looked it up
at this very moment
what i want is what i’ve got
life is too short
to hold back
i won’t live live in the past
being lonely now i know
this is the time
of my life
yes i’m sure what i want
is what i’ve got
miracles appear i know
now i can see it show
’cause i
found out what i dreamt of
and i looked it up
at this very moment
what i want it what i’ve got
found out what was missing
and i looked it up
at this very moment
what i want is what i’ve got
now i’ve found out what i’ve
been dreaming of
it’s the feeling of peace deep within me
’cause life is too short to hold back
i made up my mind, i just
found out what i dreamt of
and i looked it up
at this very moment
what i want it what i’ve got
found out what was missing
and i looked it up
at this very moment
what i want is what i’ve got
found out what i dreamt of
and i looked it up
at this very moment
what i want it what i’ve got
found out what was missing
and i looked it up
at this very moment
what i want is what i’ve got
[ Last edited by 可乐pp on 2005-7-15 at 10:28 ]
一下子，全下了．．．
All ofus have read thrilling stories in which the hero had only a limitedand
specified time to live. Sometimes it wasas long as a year; sometimes asshort
as twenty-four hours. But always we were interested in discovering just howthe
doomed man chose to spend his lastdays or his last hours. I speak,of course,
offreemenwhohavea choice,notcondemnedcriminalswhosesphere of
activities is strictly delimited. Suchstories set us thinking, wonderingwhat
we should dounder similar circumstances.What events, whatexperiences, what
associationsshould wecrowd intothose lasthours asmortal beings? What
happiness should we find in reviewing the past, what regrets?
Sometimes I have thought it would be an excellent rule to live each day as if we
should dietomorrow. Suchan attitudewould emphasizesharply thevalues of
life. Weshould liveeach daywith agentleness, avigor, and a keenness of
appreciation which are often lost when time stretches before us in theconstant
panorama of more days and months and years to come. There are those, ofcourse,
who wouldadopt theEpicurean mottoof \"Eat,drink, andbe merry,\" but most
people would be chastened by the certainty of impending death.
In stories the doomed hero is usually saved at the last minute by some stroke of
fortune, butalmost alwayshis senseof valuesis changed.he becomesmore
appreciative of the meaning of lifeand its permanent spiritual values. Itahs
often beennoted thatthose wholive, orhave lived,in the shadow of death
bring a mellow sweetness to everything they do.
Most of us, however, takelife for granted. We knowthat one day we mustdie,
but usually wepicture that dayas far inthe future. Whenwe are in buoyant
health, death is all but unimaginable.We seldom think of it. Thedays stretch
out in anendless vista. Sowe go aboutour petty tasks,hardly aware of our
listless attitude toward life.
The same lethargy, I am afraid,characterizes the use of all ourfaculties and
senses. Only thedeaf appreciate hearing,only the blindrealize the manifold
blessings that lie in sight.Particularly does this observation applyto those
who have lost sight and hearing in adult life. But those who have never suffered
impairment ofsight orhearing seldommake thefullest useof these blessed
faculties. Their eyesand ears takein all sightsand sounds hazily,without
concentration andwith littleappreciation. Itis thesame oldstory of not
being gratefulfor whatwe haveuntil welose it,of not being conscious of
health until we are ill.
I have often thoughtit would be ablessing if each humanbeing were stricken
blind and deaf for a few days at some time during his early adult life. Darkness
would make him moreappreciative of sight; silencewould tech him thejoys of
sound.
Now and them I have tested my seeing friends to discover what they see. Recently
I was visited by a very good friends who hadjust returned from a long walkin
the woods, and I asked her what she had observed.. \"Nothing in particular, \" she
replied.Imight havebeenincredulous hadInot beenaccustomedto such
reposes, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.
How was it possible, I asked myself,to walk for an hour through thewoods and
see nothing worthy of note? I who cannot see find hundreds of things to interest
me through mere touch. I feel thedelicate symmetry of a leaf. I passmy hands
lovingly about the smooth skin of a silver birch, or the rough, shaggy bark of a
pine. In the spring I touch thebranches of trees hopefully in search ofa bud
thefirstsignof awakeningNatureafterher winter\'ssleep.Ifeel the
delightful,velvetytexture ofaflower, anddiscoverits remarkable
convolutions;andsomethingofthe miracleofNatureisrevealed tome.
Occasionally, if I am very fortunate, I place my hand gently on a small tree and
feel the happy quiver ofa bird in full song.I am delighted to havethe cool
waters ofa brookrush thoughtmy openfinger. Tome alush carpet of pine
needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug.To
me thepage antof seasonsis athrilling andunending drama, the action of
which streams through my finger tips.
At times my heart cries out with longingto see all these things. If I canget
so muchpleasure frommere touch,how muchmore beautymust berevealed by
sight. Yet, those who have eyesapparently see little. the panorama ofcolor
and action which fills the world is taken for granted. It is human, perhaps,to
appreciate little that which we have and to long for that which we have not, but
it is a great pity that in the world of light the gift of sight is used onlyas
a mere conveniences rather than as a means of adding fullness to life.
If I were the president ofa university I should establish acompulsory course
in \"How to Use Your Eyes\". Theprofessor would try to show his pupilshow they
could add joy to their lives by really seeing what passes unnoticed before them.
He would try to awake their dormant and sluggish faculties.
Perhaps I can best illustrate by imaginingwhat I should most like to seeif I
weregiven theuse ofmy eyes,say, forjust threedays. Andwhile Iam
imagining, suppose you,too, set yourmind to workon the problemof how you
would use your own eyes if you had onlythree more days to see. If with theon
coming darkness of thethird night you knewthat the sun wouldnever rise for
you again, how would you spend those three precious intervening days? What would
you most want to let your gaze rest upon?
I, naturally, should wantmost to see thethings which have becomedear to me
through my years of darkness. You, too, would want to let your eyes rest onthe
things that have become dearto you so that youcould take the memory ofthem
with you into the night that loomed before you.
If, bysome miracle,I weregranted threeseeing days,to befollowed by a
relapse into darkness, I should divide the period into three parts.
TheFirst Day
On the first day, I should want to see the people whose kindness andgentleness
and companionship have mademy life worth living.First I should liketo gaze
long upon the face of my dearteacher, Mrs. Anne Sullivan Macy, who cameto me
when I was a child and opened the outer world to me. I should want not merely to
see the outline ofher face, so thatI could cherish itin my memory, butto
study that face and find in it the living evidence of the sympathetic tenderness
and patience with which she accomplishedthe difficult task of my education.I
should like to see in her eyes that strength of character which has enabledher
to stand firm in the face of difficulties, and that compassion for allhumanity
which she has revealed to me so often.
I do not know what it is to see into the heart of a friend through that\"Window
of the soul\", the eye. I can only \"see\" through my finger tips the outline ofa
face. I can detect laughter, sorrow, and many other obvious emotions. I knowmy
friendsfromthefeel oftheirfaces.But Icannotreallypicture their
personalities bytouch. Iknow theirpersonalities, ofcourse, through other
means,through thethoughts theyexpress tome, throughwhatever oftheir
actions are revealed tome. But I amdenied that deeper understandingof them
whichIam surewouldcome throughsightof them,throughwatching their
reactions to variousexpressed thoughts andcircumstances, through notingthe
immediate and fleeting reactions of their eyes and countenance.
Friends who arenear to meI know well,because through themonths and years
they reveal themselves to me in alltheir phases; but of casual friends Ihave
onlyan incompleteimpression, animpression gainedfrom ahandclasp, from
spoken words which I take from their lips with my finger tips, or which they tap
into the palm of my hand.
How much easier,how much moresatisfying it isfor you whocan see to grasp
quickly the essential qualities of another person by watching the subtletiesof
expression, thequiver ofa muscle,the flutterof ahand. But does it ever
occur to youto use yoursight to seeinto the innernature of afriends or
acquaintance/Do notmost ofyou seeingpeople graspcasually theoutward
features of a face and let it go at that?
For instance can you describe accurately the faces of five good friends? some of
you can, but many cannot. Asan experiment, I have questioned husbandsof long
standingaboutthecoloroftheirwives\'eyes,andoftentheyexpress
embarrassed confusion and admit that they do not know. And, incidentally, itis
a chronic complaint of wives that their husbands do not notice new dresses,new
hats, and changes in household arrangements.
Theeyes ofseeing personssoon becomeaccustomed tothe routineof their
surroundings, and they actually see only the startling and spectacular. But even
in viewing the most spectacular sightsthe eyes are lazy. Court recordsreveal
every day how inaccurately \"eyewitnesses\" see.A given event will be \"seen\"in
several different ways by as many witnesses. Some see more than others, butfew
see everything that is within the range of their vision.
Oh, the thingsthat I shouldsee if Ihad the powerof sight forjust three
days!
The first day would be a busy one.I should call to me all my dearfriends and
look long into their faces, imprinting upon my mind the outward evidences of the
beauty that is withinthem. I should letmy eyes rest, too,on the face ofa
baby,so thatI couldcatch avision ofthe eager,innocent beautywhich
precedes the individual\'s consciousness of the conflicts which life develops.
And I should like to look into the loyal, trusting eyes of my dogs - thegrave,
canny little Scottie, Darkie, and the stalwart, understanding Great Dane, Helga,
whose warm, tender , and playful friendships are so comforting to me.
On that busy first day I should also view the small simple things of my home.I
want tosee thewarm colorsin therugs undermy feet,the pictures on the
walls, the intimate trifles that transform a house into home. My eyes would rest
respectfully on the booksin raised type whichI have read, butthey would be
more eagerly interested in the printedbooks which seeing people can read,for
during the long night of my life the books I have read and those which have been
read to me have built themselvesinto a great shining lighthouse, revealingto
me the deepest channels of human life and the human spirit.
In the afternoonof that firstseeing day. Ishould take along walk inthe
woods andintoxicate myeyes onthe beautiesof theworld ofNature trying
desperately toabsorb ina fewhours thevast splendorwhich isconstantly
unfolding itself to those who can see. On the way home from my woodland jaunt my
path would lie near a farm sothat I might see the patient horsesploughing in
the field 9perhaps I should see onlya tractor!) and the serene content ofmen
living close to the soil. And I should pray for the glory of a colorful sunset.
When dusk had fallen,I should experience thedouble delight of beingable to
see by artificial light which the genius of man has created to extend thepower
of his sight when Nature decrees darkness.
In the night of that first day of sight, I should not be able to sleep, sofull
would be my mind of the memories of the day.
The Second Day
The next day - the second day ofsight - I should arisewith the dawnand see
the thrilling miracle bywhich night is transformedinto day. I shouldbehold
withawe themagnificent panoramaof lightwith whichthe sunawakens the
sleeping earth.
This day I should devoteto a hasty glimpse ofthe world, past and present.I
should want to see the pageant of man\'s progress, the kaleidoscope of theages.
How canso muchbe compressedinto oneday? Throughthe museums, of course.
Often I havevisited the NewYork Museum ofNatural History totouch with my
hands many of the objects there exhibited, but I have longed to see with my eyes
the condensed history of the earth and its inhabitants displayed there - animals
and the races of men pictured in their native environment; gigantic carcasses of
dinosaurs and mastodonswhich roamed theearth long beforeman appeared, with
his tiny statureand powerful brain,to conquer theanimal kingdom; realistic
presentations of theprocesses of developmentin animals, inman, and inthe
implements whichman hasused tofashion forhimself asecure homeon this
planet; and a thousand and one other aspects of natural history.
I wonder how many readers of this article have viewed this panorama of theface
of living things as pictured in that inspiring museum. Many, of course, have not
had the opportunity, but I am surethat many who have had the opportunityhave
not made use of it. there, indeed, is a place to use your eyes. You who seecan
spend many fruitfuldays there, butI with myimaginary three daysof sight,
could only take a hasty glimpse, and pass on.
My next stop would be the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for just as the Museumof
NaturalHistoryrevealsthematerialaspectsoftheworld,sodoes the
Metropolitan show the myriad facets of the human spirit. Throughout thehistory
of humanity the urge to artisticexpression has been almost as powerfulas the
urge for food, shelter, and procreation. And here , in the vast chambers ofthe
Metropolitan Museum,is unfoldedbefore methe spiritof Egypt,Greece, and
Rome, as expressedin their art.I know wellthrough my handsthe sculptured
gods and goddessesof the ancientNile-land. I havefelt copies ofParthenon
friezes, and Ihave sensed therhythmic beauty ofcharging Athenian warriors.
Apollos andVenuses andthe WingedVictory ofSamothrace arefriends ofmy
finger tips. The gnarled, bearded features of Homer are dear to me, for he, too,
knew blindness.
My hands have lingered upon the living marble of roman sculpture as well as that
oflatergenerations.Ihavepassedmyhandsoveraplastercast of
Michelangelo\'s inspiring and heroic Moses; Ihave sensed the power of Rodin;I
have been awed bythe devoted spirit ofGothic wood carving. Thesearts which
can be touched have meaning for me,but even they were meant to beseen rather
than felt, and I canonly guess at the beautywhich remains hidden from me.I
can admire thesimple lines ofa Greek vase,but its figureddecorations are
lost to me.
So on this, my second day of sight,I should try to probe into the soulof man
throughthis art.The thingsI knewthrough touchI shouldnow see.More
splendid still, the whole magnificent worldof painting would be opened tome,
fromtheItalian Primitives,withtheir serenereligiousdevotion, tothe
Moderns, with their feverishvisions. I should lookdeep into the canvasesof
Raphael, Leonardo da Vinci,Titian, Rembrandt. I shouldwant to feast myeyes
upon the warm colors of Veronese, studythe mysteries of E1 Greco, catch anew
vision of Nature from Corot. Oh, there is so much rich meaning and beauty in the
art of the ages for you who have eyes to see!
Upon myshort visitto thistemple ofart Ishould notbe able to review a
fraction of that great worldof art which is opento you. I should beable to
get onlya superficialimpression. Artiststell methat for deep andtrue
appreciation of art one must educated the eye. One must learn through experience
to weigh the merits of line, ofcomposition, of form and color. If Ihad eyes,
how happily would I embark upon sofascinating a study! Yet I am toldthat, to
many of you who have eyes to see,the world of art is a dark night,unexplored
and unilluminated.
It would be with extreme reluctance that I should leave the Metropolitan Museum,
which containsthe keyto beauty-- abeauty soneglected. Seeingpersons,
however, do notneed a metropolitanto find thiskey to beauty.The same key
lies waitingin smallermuseums, andin bookson theshelves ofeven small
libraries. But naturally, in my limited time of imaginary sight, I should choose
the place where the key unlocks the greatest treasures in the shortest time.
The evening ofmy second dayof sight Ishould spend ata theatre orat the
movies. Even now Ioften attend theatrical performancesof all sorts, butthe
action of the play must be spelled into my hand by a companion. But how I should
like tosee withmy owneyes thefascinating figureof Hamlet, or the gusty
Falstaff amid colorful Elizabethan trappings!How I should like tofollow each
movement of the graceful Hamlet, each strut of the hearty Falstaff! And sinceI
could see only oneplay, I should beconfronted by a many-horneddilemma, for
there are scores of playsI should want to see.You who have eyes cansee any
you like. How many ofyou, I wonder, when yougaze at a play, amovie, or any
spectacle, realize and give thanks for the miracle of sight which enables you to
enjoy its color , grace, and movement?
I cannot enjoy the beauty of rhythmic movement except in a sphere restrictedto
the touch of my hands. I can vision only dimly the grace of a Pavlowa,although
I know somethingof the delightof rhythm, foroften I cansense the beat of
music as it vibrates through the floor. I can well imagine that cadencedmotion
must be one of the most pleasing sights in the world. I have been able to gather
something of this by tracing with my fingers the lines in sculptured marble;if
this static grace can beso lovely, how much moreacute must be the thrillof
seeing grace in motion.
One of my dearestmemories is of thetime when Joseph Jeffersonallowed me to
touch his face and hands as he went through some of the gestures and speeches of
his beloved RipVan Winkle. Iwas able tocatch thus ameager glimpse of the
world of drama, andI shall never forgetthe delight of thatmoment. But, oh,
how muchI mustmiss, andhow muchpleasure youseeing ones can derive from
watching and hearing the interplay of speech and movement in the unfolding ofa
dramatic performance! If I could see only one play, I should know how to picture
in my\\mind the action of a hundred plays which I have read or hadtransferred
to me through the medium of the manual alphabet.
So, through the evening of mysecond imaginary day of sight, thegreat fingers
of dramatic literature would crowd sleep from my eyes.