unbillable hours

Jean Cocteau: The actual tragedies of life...

Jean Cocteau: The actual tragedies of life...

The actual tragedies of life bear no relation to one's preconceived ideas. In the event, one is always bewildered by their simplicity, their grandeur of design, and by that element of the bizzare which seems inherent in them.

Jean Cocteau, Les Enfants Terribles
French dramatist, director, & poet (1889 - 1963)

Picture Envy for November 30, 2006

in Saint Jean de Luz
Originally uploaded by Paula Anddrade*.

in Saint Jean de Luz

Lytham St Annes - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Link: Lytham St Annes - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

Fairhaven, another district between Lytham and St Annes, lies between Ansdell and the coast. It is named after Thomas Fair, an early resident of Lytham St Annes. Its main claim to fame is its artificial lake, known as Fairhaven Lake or more formally as the Ashton Marine Park, which is an important wildfowl habitat. Its other famous landmark is the Fairhaven United Reformed Church, which is of unusual design, being built in Byzantine style and faced with glazed white tiles, and commonly known as the White Church, or 'the mosque' due to the dome shaped towers protruding from its sides.

Richard Francis Burton - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Link: Richard Francis Burton - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

Burton was also accused of having murdered a man on his trip to Mecca. The story was that on the journey he had accidentally revealed himself as a European and killed the man (in some versions a boy) to keep his secret. While Burton often denied this, he was also given to baiting gullible listeners. Famously a doctor once asked him coldly, "How do you feel when you have killed a man?" Burton retorted, "Quite jolly, what about you?" When asked by a priest about the same incident Burton is said to have replied "Sir, I'm proud to say I have committed every sin in the Decalogue.".[19]

A sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave

Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears,

While we all sup sorrow with the poor;

There's a song that will linger forever in our ears;

Oh Hard times come again no more.

Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,

Hard Times, hard times, come again no more

Many days you have lingered around my cabin door;

Oh hard times come again no more.

While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay,

There are frail forms fainting at the door;

Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say

Oh hard times come again no more.

There's a pale drooping maiden who toils her life away,

With a worn heart whose better days are o'er:

Though her voice would be merry, 'tis sighing all the day,

Oh hard times come again no more.

Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave,

Tis a wail that is heard upon the shore

Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave

Oh hard times come again no more.

            - Stephen Foster, c. 1859