DragonEagle's Xanga

Twilight the book v. Twilight the movie

Mon, 05 Jan 2009 18:58:42 GMT

Twilight the book v. Twilight the movie

Last Tuesday, my sister and I went to go see Twilight just to use the tickets before the expired and wow I was hooked! The movie was in one word, intense. The panormaic views of such a lush environment only increased my desire to go visit the Pacific Northwest, which has been a great desire of mine over the past 4 years or so. After Watching the awesome movie I HAD to read the book. Tricia, luckily already has the first three of the 5 books.

*Spoiler alert*

The book is full of details, stories, and lovely monements of passion and bantering that simply could not make it into the movie. The movie is magical, saying so much with a look and keeping the story suspensful and yet there is a flow to the movie. While there are parts that I love about the book, the simple conversations and the time spent discribing moments that many of us have had upon falling in love (like sneaking a boy in or running off to be alone for a while into some random place), the movie's version is much more passionate. For those who have known an "Edward" the feeling that are in the story come alive again as he swears he is no good for you and you can't stop yourself from saying falling for him. I love how in the story Edward shly says, " I like to watch you sleep, you are so peaceful when you sleep" which remindied me of one of my favoirte movies, "Untamed Hearts". The fact that, in the movie, Jacob never break's his family's secret promise he just leads Bella in the right direction. Speaks much more than the book version of him spilling the beans as a scary story. Now in the same scene, I would have liked to have seen the various colors of the beach that was desricbed in the book. Oh and I also like the movie verision of Jacob being reintroduced at the very begining of the movie.
The book cover is misleading as it has an apple craddled in two hands, and yet in the book I didn't even notice the word "apple" I love how it alludes to the temptaion that Edward is craddling when he is craddling Bella, and the temptaion that she is playing with fate. I also love the bantering the book and the teasing about her being a magnant for trouble. The little inside jokes, much like *kimchee* and little bunny slippers. :) The book is also filled with a great vocabulary that I would have taken the time to clearly define, just for extra practice, but i was in too much of a rush to finish the book to stop.
The ending of the movie takes the cake over the book without qualms. The director and screenplay writer are phenominal for taking the work of Stephine Meyers and rearranging the dialoge with different scenes that make the story pull at heartstrings and hold your breath with anticipation. Also the music makes the movie amazing. The monment when Bella invites the change and Edward leans into bite her....she is scared and he face show how much he wants her to be with him forever, yet he knows that it will change what he loves about her, the fact that she is human. (Much like Tess from "Tess of d'urbervilles") in that moment of angst he kisses her neck firmly and breathes her in. That moment makes the book "pretty" and the movie "so much more than beatuful" ( quotes from the epilogue: an ocassion of Twilight when Jacob calles Bella "pretty")

The Poem that gave Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind, it's name.

Mon, 31 Mar 2008 16:12:22 GMT

I watched the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind finally. It was an interesting movie, but very good, I am glad that I took the time to watch it.

http://quotations.about.com/b/2004/05/11/eternal-sunshine-of-the-spotless-mind.htm

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind Did you know that the movie title Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is actually a quotation from a popular poem by Alexander Pope Eloisa to Abelard? Since so many of you quotations lovers are also poetry lovers, I think you will enjoy reading the complete poem from which the movie title Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is derived. So here goes (drum rolls), the poem Eloisa to Abelard by Alexander Pope, which is the source of the movie title Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

Eloisa to Abelard

In these deep solitudes and awful cells,
Where heav'nly-pensive contemplation dwells,
And ever-musing melancholy reigns;
What means this tumult in a vestal's veins?
Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat?
Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat?
Yet, yet I love! — From Abelard it came,
And Eloisa yet must kiss the name.

Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd,
Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd.
Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise,
Where mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies:
O write it not, my hand — the name appears
Already written — wash it out, my tears!
In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays,
Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys.

Relentless walls! whose darksome round contains
Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains:
Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn;
Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn!
Shrines! where their vigils pale-ey'd virgins keep,
And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep!
Though cold like you, unmov'd, and silent grown,
I have not yet forgot myself to stone.
All is not Heav'n's while Abelard has part,
Still rebel nature holds out half my heart;
Nor pray'rs nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain,
Nor tears, for ages, taught to flow in vain.

Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose,
That well-known name awakens all my woes.
Oh name for ever sad! for ever dear!
Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear.
I tremble too, where'er my own I find,
Some dire misfortune follows close behind.
Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow,
Led through a sad variety of woe:
Now warm in love, now with'ring in thy bloom,
Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!
There stern religion quench'd th' unwilling flame,
There died the best of passions, love and fame.

Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join
Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine.
Nor foes nor fortune take this pow'r away;
And is my Abelard less kind than they?
Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare,
Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r;
No happier task these faded eyes pursue;
To read and weep is all they now can do.

Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief;
Ah, more than share it! give me all thy grief.
Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid,
Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid;
They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires,
Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires,
The virgin's wish without her fears impart,
Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart,
Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.

Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame,
When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name;
My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind,
Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind.
Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry day,
Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day.
Guiltless I gaz'd; heav'n listen'd while you sung;
And truths divine came mended from that tongue.
From lips like those what precept fail'd to move?
Too soon they taught me 'twas no sin to love.
Back through the paths of pleasing sense I ran,
Nor wish'd an Angel whom I lov'd a Man.
Dim and remote the joys of saints I see;
Nor envy them, that heav'n I lose for thee.

How oft, when press'd to marriage, have I said,
Curse on all laws but those which love has made!
Love, free as air, at sight of human ties,
Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies,
Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame,
August her deed, and sacred be her fame;
Before true passion all those views remove,
Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love?
The jealous God, when we profane his fires,
Those restless passions in revenge inspires;
And bids them make mistaken mortals groan,
Who seek in love for aught but love alone.
Should at my feet the world's great master fall,
Himself, his throne, his world, I'd scorn 'em all:
Not Caesar's empress would I deign to prove;
No, make me mistress to the man I love;
If there be yet another name more free,
More fond than mistress, make me that to thee!
Oh happy state! when souls each other draw,
When love is liberty, and nature, law:
All then is full, possessing, and possess'd,
No craving void left aching in the breast:
Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part,
And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart.
This sure is bliss (if bliss on earth there be)
And once the lot of Abelard and me.

Alas, how chang'd! what sudden horrors rise!
A naked lover bound and bleeding lies!
Where, where was Eloise? her voice, her hand,
Her poniard, had oppos'd the dire command.
Barbarian, stay! that bloody stroke restrain;
The crime was common, common be the pain.
I can no more; by shame, by rage suppress'd,
Let tears, and burning blushes speak the rest.

Canst thou forget that sad, that solemn day,
When victims at yon altar's foot we lay?
Canst thou forget what tears that moment fell,
When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell?
As with cold lips I kiss'd the sacred veil,
The shrines all trembl'd, and the lamps grew pale:
Heav'n scarce believ'd the conquest it survey'd,
And saints with wonder heard the vows I made.
Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew,
Not on the Cross my eyes were fix'd, but you:
Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call,
And if I lose thy love, I lose my all.
Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe;
Those still at least are left thee to bestow.
Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie,
Still drink delicious poison from thy eye,
Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd;
Give all thou canst — and let me dream the rest.
Ah no! instruct me other joys to prize,
With other beauties charm my partial eyes,
Full in my view set all the bright abode,
And make my soul quit Abelard for God.

Ah, think at least thy flock deserves thy care,
Plants of thy hand, and children of thy pray'r.
From the false world in early youth they fled,
By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts led.
You rais'd these hallow'd walls; the desert smil'd,
And Paradise was open'd in the wild.
No weeping orphan saw his father's stores
Our shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors;
No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n,
Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited heav'n:
But such plain roofs as piety could raise,
And only vocal with the Maker's praise.
In these lone walls (their days eternal bound)
These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets crown'd,
Where awful arches make a noonday night,
And the dim windows shed a solemn light;
Thy eyes diffus'd a reconciling ray,
And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day.
But now no face divine contentment wears,
'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears.
See how the force of others' pray'rs I try,
(O pious fraud of am'rous charity!)
But why should I on others' pray'rs depend?
Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend!
Ah let thy handmaid, sister, daughter move,
And all those tender names in one, thy love!
The darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclin'd
Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind,
The wand'ring streams that shine between the hills,
The grots that echo to the tinkling rills,
The dying gales that pant upon the trees,
The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze;
No more these scenes my meditation aid,
Or lull to rest the visionary maid.
But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves,
Long-sounding aisles, and intermingled graves,
Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws
A death-like silence, and a dread repose:
Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene,
Shades ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green,
Deepens the murmur of the falling floods,
And breathes a browner horror on the woods.

Yet here for ever, ever must I stay;
Sad proof how well a lover can obey!
Death, only death, can break the lasting chain;
And here, ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain,
Here all its frailties, all its flames resign,
And wait till 'tis no sin to mix with thine.

Ah wretch! believ'd the spouse of God in vain,
Confess'd within the slave of love and man.
Assist me, Heav'n! but whence arose that pray'r?
Sprung it from piety, or from despair?
Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires,
Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.
I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought;
I mourn the lover, not lament the fault;
I view my crime, but kindle at the view,
Repent old pleasures, and solicit new;
Now turn'd to Heav'n, I weep my past offence,
Now think of thee, and curse my innocence.
Of all affliction taught a lover yet,
'Tis sure the hardest science to forget!
How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense,
And love th' offender, yet detest th' offence?
How the dear object from the crime remove,
Or how distinguish penitence from love?
Unequal task! a passion to resign,
For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost as mine.
Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state,
How often must it love, how often hate!
How often hope, despair, resent, regret,
Conceal, disdain — do all things but forget.
But let Heav'n seize it, all at once 'tis fir'd;
Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd!
Oh come! oh teach me nature to subdue,
Renounce my love, my life, myself — and you.
Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he
Alone can rival, can succeed to thee.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
"Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;"
Desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n,
Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n.
Grace shines around her with serenest beams,
And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams.
For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,
And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes,
For her the Spouse prepares the bridal ring,
For her white virgins hymeneals sing,
To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away,
And melts in visions of eternal day.

Far other dreams my erring soul employ,
Far other raptures, of unholy joy:
When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day,
Fancy restores what vengeance snatch'd away,
Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free,
All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee.
Oh curs'd, dear horrors of all-conscious night!
How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight!
Provoking Daemons all restraint remove,
And stir within me every source of love.
I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms,
And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms.
I wake — no more I hear, no more I view,
The phantom flies me, as unkind as you.
I call aloud; it hears not what I say;
I stretch my empty arms; it glides away.
To dream once more I close my willing eyes;
Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise!
Alas, no more — methinks we wand'ring go
Through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe,
Where round some mould'ring tower pale ivy creeps,
And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.
Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies;
Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise.
I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find,
And wake to all the griefs I left behind.

For thee the fates, severely kind, ordain
A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain;
Thy life a long, dead calm of fix'd repose;
No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows.
Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow,
Or moving spirit bade the waters flow;
Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiv'n,
And mild as opening gleams of promis'd heav'n.

Come, Abelard! for what hast thou to dread?
The torch of Venus burns not for the dead.
Nature stands check'd; Religion disapproves;
Ev'n thou art cold — yet Eloisa loves.
Ah hopeless, lasting flames! like those that burn
To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn.

What scenes appear where'er I turn my view?
The dear ideas, where I fly, pursue,
Rise in the grove, before the altar rise,
Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes.
I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thee,
Thy image steals between my God and me,
Thy voice I seem in ev'ry hymn to hear,
With ev'ry bead I drop too soft a tear.
When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll,
And swelling organs lift the rising soul,
One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight,
Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight:
In seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd,
While altars blaze, and angels tremble round.

While prostrate here in humble grief I lie,
Kind, virtuous drops just gath'ring in my eye,
While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll,
And dawning grace is op'ning on my soul:
Come, if thou dar'st, all charming as thou art!
Oppose thyself to Heav'n; dispute my heart;
Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes
Blot out each bright idea of the skies;
Take back that grace, those sorrows, and those tears;
Take back my fruitless penitence and pray'rs;
Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode;
Assist the fiends, and tear me from my God!

No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole;
Rise Alps between us! and whole oceans roll!
Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me,
Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee.
Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign;
Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine.
Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view!)
Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu!
Oh Grace serene! oh virtue heav'nly fair!
Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care!
Fresh blooming hope, gay daughter of the sky!
And faith, our early immortality!
Enter, each mild, each amicable guest;
Receive, and wrap me in eternal rest!

See in her cell sad Eloisa spread,
Propp'd on some tomb, a neighbour of the dead.
In each low wind methinks a spirit calls,
And more than echoes talk along the walls.
Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around,
From yonder shrine I heard a hollow sound.
"Come, sister, come!" (it said, or seem'd to say)
"Thy place is here, sad sister, come away!
Once like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd,
Love's victim then, though now a sainted maid:
But all is calm in this eternal sleep;
Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep,
Ev'n superstition loses ev'ry fear:
For God, not man, absolves our frailties here."

I come, I come! prepare your roseate bow'rs,
Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flow'rs.
Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go,
Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic glow:
Thou, Abelard! the last sad office pay,
And smooth my passage to the realms of day;
See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll,
Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul!
Ah no — in sacred vestments may'st thou stand,
The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand,
Present the cross before my lifted eye,
Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.
Ah then, thy once-lov'd Eloisa see!
It will be then no crime to gaze on me.
See from my cheek the transient roses fly!
See the last sparkle languish in my eye!
Till ev'ry motion, pulse, and breath be o'er;
And ev'n my Abelard be lov'd no more.
O Death all-eloquent! you only prove
What dust we dote on, when 'tis man we love.

Then too, when fate shall thy fair frame destroy,
(That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy)
In trance ecstatic may thy pangs be drown'd,
Bright clouds descend, and angels watch thee round,
From op'ning skies may streaming glories shine,
And saints embrace thee with a love like mine.

May one kind grave unite each hapless name,
And graft my love immortal on thy fame!
Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er,
When this rebellious heart shall beat no more;
If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings
To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs,
O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads,
And drink the falling tears each other sheds;
Then sadly say, with mutual pity mov'd,
"Oh may we never love as these have lov'd!"

From the full choir when loud Hosannas rise,
And swell the pomp of dreadful sacrifice,
Amid that scene if some relenting eye
Glance on the stone where our cold relics lie,
Devotion's self shall steal a thought from Heav'n,
One human tear shall drop and be forgiv'n.
And sure, if fate some future bard shall join
In sad similitude of griefs to mine,
Condemn'd whole years in absence to deplore,
And image charms he must behold no more;
Such if there be, who loves so long, so well;
Let him our sad, our tender story tell;
The well-sung woes will soothe my pensive ghost;
He best can paint 'em, who shall feel 'em most.

What was the first album you bought?

Mon, 31 Mar 2008 16:09:05 GMT

I just answered this Featured Question, you can answer it too!

I don't remember that, but the first one ever bought for me was All-4-One, "and the music sings"

Romance Junkie

Sun, 02 Mar 2008 21:15:45 GMT

Sunday January, 14 2007 1:11am

It is obvious that I am a Romance Junkie and that I need attention in that, "some me that you missed me in the simplest and sweet way" and the occasional surprise sort of way. I don't need the countless roses and the showers of jewelry. I want to hear his voice, more than during the worst times. It has been icy here for two days now, since it is impossible to be curled up next to his warm body a long phone conversation would have been nice. Even when he was home for Christmas I felt a little negecticed. Unfortunantly I waited a week to say something and when I did, I overreacted that he didn't fix it right away. Tears were shed. Maybe I am overreacting now. zawj qumaash ana yaqool laa, aw huwa' taghyeer. The previous statement is not grammaticaly correct, but it was only for me anyways. The phone calls where he is talking to everyone eles. I wrote a letter inspired by Steffan that I have displayed at the Gift Shop at work.

Dearest Love,
This is hour that has doth seperated our hands has now grown exponentially. Alas, these hundreds of thousands of miles cannot seperate our love for it is true. My fears be fulfilled of promises unfulfilled and of the vast pool which ripples speak, "unknown". You have asked me to decide our fate, but dost thou not know how cruel fate can be and that my greatest fear is never holding thee in my arms again.
Speak once more of truest feelings and vows for 'morrows evermore. Let's sweet words echo to the stars so that they, distant angels, may shine brightly upon us. Bid me adieu till no miles exsists between our hearts.
~ Your Heart

So yeah, I wrote that and now, over these past few weeks, I am full of fear again. Fear of our friendship not being strong enough to withstand this growing distance and years before we can actually be dating. If only I knew the answer to all of this junk. I don't want to be "smoothering" nor do I want to feel neglected.
Enough of the whinning, it's not going to help the solution, but I feel a little better (not).

More story ideas

Mon, 18 Feb 2008 00:35:32 GMT

Rumbling growls pour over the country side. The birds do not fly off, rather they brace themselves to the branches as a corvette blazes by. Blue as the night itself. Two glowing orbs cut through the crisp air. Leaving a vicious trail of dust. One might mistake this growling beauty for a ghost, but ghost don't have engines. Gravel is tossed on a fence with a sharp turn. A loud roar and the road gives way to the ghost, " ____, are you there?" You whisper.
8:12 April 22, 2005.

Dragon Story after Tony + Plus

Mon, 11 Feb 2008 03:14:23 GMT

The dragons flee from the battle at first there were only little groups of friends retreating. As the battle grew more intense the sky turned green. The silhouette of the warriors danced across the night sky. Herds of dragon ran home to the south where they could grow strong again safely. More importantly together. For it is not the blade of a warrior or the stupidity and greed of a man that scares dragons, it is the thought of being alone. The last of the dragons retreats. The fires of the warriors still burn in the east night sky. Flickering. Bright. Ice. Hope. Dark goes the night sky.The sky paints my emotions. The battle the fleeing, the loneliness. If only the sky could say those painful words, I would not have said them.

No more secrets need be told to the world.

June 27 2006 3:30 am
It's not a one-way road that connects us.

Here we are. We are in this moment of pain and joy.

Lyta Aran~a #2 (Ielf...):     Breaking the skin
I swore I'd never hurt myself
Temptation is so near
The blade runs across my wrist
The endomorphisms trickle
    through my body
I know my skin is the only barrier
Between me and a rush
    of pleasure.

This goes with the picture of the eyes and the grave. Part of the dream with the grim reaper.
I remember when his touch was a gentle caress, now he brings me heartbreaking pain.

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness

Tue, 08 Jan 2008 05:57:25 GMT

I watched Freedom Writers just know; it is a beautiful story. The score from the movie hosts a sound clip of Martian Luther King, Jr's "I Have a Dream Speech" which is of course is reminiscent of Abraham Licoln's "Gettysburg Address" Both beautiful and well designed speeches. So I decided to post them both. Please take the time to read them out loud and enjoy the rhythm and the eloquence of each. Also if you find any other great speeches I'd love to hear them. Have a beautiful day.

Lincoln's Gettysburg Address, given November 19, 1863 on the battlefield near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, USA

Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation: conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war. . .testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated. . . can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war.

We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate. . .we cannot consecrate. . . we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.

It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us. . .that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion. . . that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain. . . that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom. . . and that government of the people. . .by the people. . .for the people. . . shall not perish from the earth.

http://libertyonline.hypermall.com/Lincoln/gettysburg.html

On the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, Martin Luther King, Jr. evoked the name of Lincoln in his "I Have a Dream" speech, which is credited with mobilizing supporters of desegregation and prompted the 1964 Civil Rights Act. The next year, King was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

The following is the exact text of the spoken speech, transcribed from recordings.

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

http://www.usconstitution.net/index.html

Old song: Big, big world

Sat, 21 Jul 2007 17:51:03 GMT

BIG BIG WORLD
Emilia

CHORUS:
I'm a big big girl
In a big big world
It's not a big big thing if you leave me
But I do do feel
That I do do will
Miss you much
Miss you much

I can see the first leaves falling
It's all yellow and nice
It's so very cold outside
Like the way I'm feeling inside

CHORUS:
I'm a big big girl
In a big big world
It's not a big big thing if you leave me
But I do do feel
That I do do will
Miss you much
Miss you much

Outside it's no raining
And tears are falling from my eyes
Why did it have to happen
Why did it all have to end

CHORUS:
I'm a big big girl
In a big big world
It's not a big big thing if you leave me
But I do do feel
That I do do will
Miss you much
Miss you much

I have your arms around me
Warm like fire
But when I open my eyes......
Your gone

CHORUS:
I'm a big big girl
In a big big world
It's not a big big thing if you leave me
But I do do feel
That I do do will
Miss you much
Miss you much

I'm a big big girl
In a big big world
It's not a big big thing if you leave me
But I do do feel
That I do do will
Miss you much
Miss you much

I'm a big big girl
In a big big world
It's not a big big thing
If you leave me
But I do
Feel I will
Miss you much
Miss you much

My Religion

Sat, 21 Jul 2007 16:20:32 GMT

About 10 minutes ago I came to this relization, that my religion is not the way most people think of religion. So here are my thoughts:

"My Religion" By Summer H.

My Religion is lead by an ever changing face.

My Commandments are not in stone, but on paper with erasable ink.

My Angels wear camoflage.

My Saints are people who had a dream, a vision, and the stamina to do what was right, in the face of adversity.

My churches are places that help those in need and promote the advancment of society.

My hymns are the lyrics of a patriot.

My Religion is in the hands of many, both competent and not.

There it is, I'll leave you with the words of a great lyricist, "Hate me if you want to; love me if you can".

The 4th and such

Thu, 12 Jul 2007 03:40:41 GMT

For the fouth my sister, Paul, and I went to the "I Love America" deal that was held in Elemer Thomas Park here in Lawton. The Canadian Armed Forces Parachute Team did two different shows from only 3,500 ft. My Canadian friend, Patrick, along with several other people, were a little confussed about why the Canadian team was jumping to celebrate America's Independance. *laughs* I guess we out source quiet a bit. It works tough, if I were a parachute team I'd want to be off on the 4th and would gladly do a jump in November for Cananda's Independance.
I finally found a book that I've been looking for called "Consumed: How Markets Corrupt Children, Infantize Adults, and Swallow Citizens Whole" by Benjamin R. Barber. Aperently it is a squel to Jihad vs. McWorld that I never knew about, much less read so I am just going to skip it and hopefully won't get too confussed about the references to the first book.
My friends and I drove up to Norman, which is about an hour, hour and fifteen minute drive, to go see Harry Potter last night at the midnight priemer. While I am actually not a huge fan of Harry Potter this film is by far my favorite. My original reason for going to see the movie was to see some people that I haven't seen in a while. I just wish I had known that it was going to played on the imax screen I would have waited and gone to see it in the Omnidome. Other than that I have been getting ready to start school in about a month though it hardly feels like summer. If I remember the stats correctly we had more rainfall in the month of June than 50 years out of the 100 years of recorded weather had annually. There is a little town near here called Medicine Park, which has done a lot of work to make their town beautiful and since the Lawtonka Dam had to be opened before it broke there was quite a bit of damage to the recent work that has been done.