Ea Bucchianeri Quotes

So it’s true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.

Love, like everything else in life, should be a discovery, an adventure, and like most adventures, you don’t know you’re having one until you’re right in the middle of it.

An acquaintance merely enjoys your company, a fair-weather companion flatters when all is well, a true friend has your best interests at heart and the pluck to tell you what you need to hear.

Falling in love is very real, but I used to shake my head when people talked about soul mates, poor deluded individuals grasping at some supernatural ideal not intended for mortals but sounded pretty in a poetry book. Then, we met, and everything changed, the cynic has become the converted, the sceptic, an ardent zealot.

... it’s a blessed thing to love and feel loved in return.

Errors do not cease to be errors simply because they’re ratified into law.

I am an artist you know ... it is my right to be odd.

Poor God, how often He is blamed for all the suffering in the world. It’s like praising Satan for allowing all the good that happens.

It was only high school after all, definitely one of the most bizarre periods in a person’s life. How anyone can come through that time well adjusted on any level is an absolute miracle.

Weirdism is definitely the cornerstone of many an artist's career.

... you’ll have to fall in love at least once in your life, or Paris has failed to rub off on you.

It’s the unknown that draws people.

Well, if it can be thought, it can be done, a problem can be overcome,

...it’s just another one of those things I don’t understand: everyone impresses upon you how unique you are, encouraging you to cultivate your individuality while at the same time trying to squish you and everyone else into the same ridiculous mould. It’s an artist’s right to rebel against the world’s stupidity.

Be wise today so you don't cry tomorrow.

It’s not unpatriotic to denounce an injustice committed on our behalf, perhaps it’s the most patriotic thing we can do.

The most beautiful moments always seemed to accelerate and slip beyond one’s grasp just when you want to hold onto them for as long as possible.

Make your lives a masterpiece, you only get one canvas.

Sometimes, the simple things are more fun and meaningful than all the banquets in the world ...

Love, like Fortune, favours the bold.

It was not curiosity that killed the goose who laid the golden egg, but an insatiable greed that devoured common sense.

Love is supposed to be based on trust, and trust on love, it's something rare and beautiful when people can confide in each other without fearing what the other person will think.

There are times when wisdom cannot be found in the chambers of parliament or the halls of academia but at the unpretentious setting of the kitchen table.

No one messes around with a nerd’s computer and escapes unscathed.

... what you think is right isn't the same as knowing what is right.

You can’t enjoy art or books in a hurry.

If you boil it down, just because someone else does the wrong thing we are not exempt from doing what’s right.

Pops added,"you know, they say if you don't vote, you get the government you deserve." "And if you do, you never get the results you expected," (Katherine) replied.

... how terrible is the pain of the mind and heart when the freedom of mankind is suppressed!

... an artist should paint from the heart, and not always what people expect. Predictability often leads to the dullest work, in my opinion, and we have been bored stiff long enough I think.

Abortion should be listed as a weapon of mass destruction against the voiceless.

...they say if you don't vote, you get the government you deserve, and if you do, you never get the results you expected.

... a true friend has your best interests at heart and the pluck to tell you what you need to hear.

While she could hardly fathom what had just happened to her that night, she reached some conclusions before she fell asleep, certain things now made perfect sense; Moon River didn’t sound so syrupy, mistletoe wasn’t such a bad idea, and perhaps dating was not such a frivolous waste of time after all.

That's it. Love makes us all strong.

It’s an artist’s right to rebel against the world’s stupidity.

Evil influence is like a nicotine patch, you cannot help but absorb what sticks to you.

Theatres are curious places, magician's trick-boxes where the golden memories of dramtic triumphs linger like nostalgic ghosts, and where the unexplainable, the fantastic, the tragic, the comic and the absurd are routine occurences on and off the stage. Murders, mayhem, politcal intrigue, lucrative business, secret assignations, and of course, dinner.

There are some things you can’t learn at any university, except for one, the University of Life... the only college where everyone is a permanent student.

You cannot hinder someone’s free will, that’s the first law of the Universe, no matter what the decision.

Socrates: Have you noticed on our journey how often the citizens of this new land remind each other it is a free country? Plato: I have, and think it odd they do this. Socrates: How so, Plato? Plato: It is like reminding a baker he is a baker, or a sculptor he is a sculptor. Socrates: You mean to say if someone is convinced of their trade, they have no need to be reminded. Plato: That is correct. Socrates: I agree. If these citizens were convinced of their freedom, they would not need reminders.

If you are what you eat, you are what you see and hear.

While art thrives on the blazing colours of scandal, literature blossoms on the dark soil of tragedy.

There has to be a cut-off somewhere between the freedom of expression and a graphically explicit free-for-all.

Sweetheart, darling, dearest, it was funny to think that these endearments, which used to sound exceedingly sentimental in movies and books, now held great importance, simple but true verbal affirmations of how they felt for each other. They were words only the heart could hear and understand, words that could impart entire pentameter sonnets in their few, short syllables.

Art is in the eye of the beholder, and everyone will have their own interpretation.

It is unfortunate that in most cases when the sins of the father fall on the son it is because unlike God, people refuse to forgive and forget and heap past wrongs upon innocent generations.

If Christ is God, He cannot sin, and if suffering was a sin in and by itself, He could not have suffered and died for us. However, since He took the most horrific death to redeem us, He showed us in fact that suffering and pain have great power.

To be, or not to be: what a question!

Ah, the magic of music, with it, all things are possible.

Free time is a terrible thing to waste. Read a book.

It's a shame there has to be a tragedy before the best in people will finally shine.

... the vintage of history is forever repeating ~ same old vines, same old wines!

... food is not simply organic fuel to keep body and soul together, it is a perishable art that must be savoured at the peak of perfection.

You know how creative people are, we have to try everything until we find our niche.

It was exciting to be off on a journey she had looked forward to for months. Oddly, the billowing diesel fumes of the airport did not smell like suffocating effluence, it assumed a peculiar pungent scent that morning, like the beginning of a new adventure, if an adventure could exude a fragrance.

If you cannot judge a book by its cover, surely we should not judge an author by one book alone?

If on thoughts of death we are fed, Thus, a coffin, became my bed.

You staying home all alone on New Year's Eve? Unthinkable. Take my advice ... the countdown should be shared with someone, or it's just another set of numbers passing you by.

The devil has not vanished simply because people refuse to believe he exists, no more than God has...

God Is, Lucifer is a devil, and there is a Hell.

Democracy was supposed to champion freedom of speech, and yet the simple rules of table decorum could clamp down on the rights their forefathers had fought and died for.

Righteous, I like that. Kinda fitting when you think about it. If we danced and shared music, we'd be too busy en-joy-in' life to start a war.

If you want to find out if someone is a true bookworm or not, give them a thousand page novel and see what happens.

Since art is considered a noble field, art should be used to promote all that is good and noble, and in a noble fashion.

We are the sum total of the decisions we have made.

When in doubt, throw doubt out and have a little faith....

A mask you ask? Optional I find! Masks lend appeal of a mysterious kind.

Thus, Marlowe posed the silent question: could aspiring Icarus be happy with a toilsome life on land managing a plough with plodding oxen having once tasted the weightless bliss of flight?

... insanity is never reasonable.

... true evil needs no reason to exist, it simply is and feeds upon itself.

... a man doesn't like to have his ego popped, especially when he prides himself on his sagacity, and then to be proved wrong by a man who claims he doesn't know anything.

There's nothing like a printed book; the weight, the woody scent, the feel, the look.

A new challenge keeps the brain kicking and the heart ticking.

Ah college years, those were the days. Pure freedom ... leaving home for the first time…the parties…” "What about the tutorials, the lectures, the large building with all the books called the ‘library’?” “Is that what those were?” Gerry blithely replied.

... the lofty mind of man can be imprisoned by the artifices of its own making.

If there are damned souls in Hell, it is because men blind themselves.

One piece of wisdom a writer quickly learns ~ typos keep you humble.

... The Book is more important than your plans for it. You have to go with what works for The Book ~ if your ideas appear hollow or forced when they are put on paper, chop them, erase them, pulverise them and start again. Don't whine when things are not going your way, because they are going the right way for The Book, which is more important. The show must go on, and so must The Book.

#Twitter: proudly promoting ghastly grammar and silly misspelling since 2006.

There is much to discover that's not on the back cover!

The gates of Hell are terrible to behold, are they not?

... love for our neighbours does not die the minute we enter heaven, it intensifies.

The simple everyday experiences become the doorway to new thoughts and inspirations.

There are many forms of tyrants, but there are none so terrible as those stifling their own people in the name of freedom.

I believe books should be like a prime rib steak ~ good and thick.

True beauty lies not upon gilded veneers, But found in the soul within.

There's something satisfying about getting your hands in the soil.

You can kill a book quicker by your silence than by a bad review.

She preferred the quiet solitary atmosphere, to create in her own world of paint and colour, the thrill of anticipating how her works would turn out as she eyed the blank sheets of paper or canvas before starting her next masterpiece. How satisfying it was to mess around in paint gear, without having to worry about spills, starch or frills, that was the life!

Editors can be stupid at times. They just ignore that author’s intention. I always try to read unabridged editions, so much is lost with cut versions of classic literature, even movies don’t make sense when they are edited too much. I love the longueurs of a book even if they seem pointless because you can get a peek into the author’s mind, a glimpse of their creative soul. I mean, how would people like it if editors came along and said to an artist, ‘Whoops, you left just a tad too much space around that lily pad there, lets crop that a bit, shall we?’. Monet would be ripping his hair out.

He offered his love ... she could not bother, She gives her love to the other! The other!

Speed is not always a constituent to great work, the process of creation should be given time and thought.

You know something is wrong when the government declares opening someone else’s mail is a felony but your internet activity is fair game for data collecting.

They lived off each other's hypocrisy, fuelling a worthless market of trash.

Stay away from the underground lake I implore, The Siren will see you are heard of no more.

There are so many problems to solve on this planet first before we begin to trash other worlds.

Have you ever felt you were born in the wrong decade, or came just a bit too late and missed out on all the good stuff when it was in its heyday?

The devil did not need to work at all when people were so willing to do his dirty work for him.

You cannot sodomize a Sacrament and expect God to say, 'Well done.

Isn't it strange how people are selective about the truth the want to see or hear?

How often have the greatest thoughts and ideas come to light during conversations with the family over the evening dinner?

What is it about us lady authors and our fascination for the exclamation mark?

Let's always try to paint the truth ... our art must be made to mean something.

Driving someone to insanity is the devil's work.

While you’re singing something romantic, I can’t get the lyrics to ‘Love and Marriage’ out of my head, and that tune always reminds me of the jingle from Jeopardy.

Everyone is in such a good mood when they've eaten well.

When Hitler marched across the Rhine To take the land of France, La dame de fer decided, ‘Let’s make the tyrant dance.’ Let him take the land and city, The hills and every flower, One thing he will never have, The elegant Eiffel Tower. The French cut the cables, The elevators stood still, ‘If he wants to reach the top, Let him walk it, if he will.’ The invaders hung a swastika The largest ever seen. But a fresh breeze blew And away it flew, Never more to be seen. They hung up a second mark, Smaller than the first, But a patriot climbed With a thought in mind: ‘Never your duty shirk.’ Up the iron lady He stealthily made his way, Hanging the bright tricolour, He heroically saved the day. Then, for some strange reason, A mystery to this day, Hitler never climbed the tower, On the ground he had to stay. At last he ordered she be razed Down to a twisted pile. A futile attack, for still she stands Beaming her metallic smile.

I mean really, how could an artistic individual stay grounded in the nitty-gritty of how many minutes per pound meat has to stay in the oven when trying to fathom the creative philosophy behind the greatest artistic minds of the world?

Faustus, who embraced evil and shunned righteousness, became the foremost symbol of the misuse of free will, that sublime gift from God with its inherent opportunity to choose virtue and reject iniquity. “What shall a man gain if he has the whole world and lose his soul,” (Matt. 16: v. 26) - but for a notorious name, the ethereal shadow of a career, and a brief life of fleeting pleasure with no true peace? This was the blackest and most captivating tragedy of all, few could have remained indifferent to the growing intrigue of this individual who apparently shook hands with the devil and freely chose to descend to the molten, sulphuric chasm of Hell for all eternity for so little in exchange. It is a drama that continues to fascinate today as powerfully as when Faustus first disseminated his infamous card in the Heidelberg locale to the scandal of his generation. In fine, a life of good or evil, the hope of Heaven or the despair of Hell, Faustus stands as a reminder that the choice between these two absolutes also falls to us.

That´s the problem with planning a late night supper after the opera, not only does the hero or the heroine die singing, but you end up famished after the last notes of the finale.

Thought for the day: Twitter...140 character limit...must be a great tool for fortune cookie writers...

The show must go on, and so must The Book.

There was something melancholic about that symbol of their nation's promise of freedom, a bell with a chipped mouth and cleft body.

I beg you, help me, in angelic charity, Pray my efforts will reflect your mastery!

Tempted to type meaningless twaddle all the time on Twitter...with alliteration, no less!

In fine, a life of good or evil, the hope of Heaven or the despair of Hell, Faustus stands as a reminder that the choice between these two absolutes also falls to us.

Evil loves to subvert all blame onto the innocent.

Could mankind declare it was truly wise? Did man know everything on earth, or would he ever? Certainly not!

There is nothing like a shared interest to draw people together.

I know, not everyone will like what I write, but writing is not about trying to please everybody.

... if people purposely set out to become your enemies, what an awful place they must be in to be that spiteful.

If a man cannot serve two masters, neither can Christianity, or several thousand of them as the case may be.

I dispute the point that nuclear energy is 'clean' and 'cost-effective'. As I recall, when we first harnessed nuclear power it was to drop an atom bomb on a civilian population, not to save the environment. However, you must admit, the victors are never tried for war crimes.

...Come on let’s see the degree.” Katherine unrolled her scroll displaying a long declaration in Latin affixed with a red seal proclaiming her a Master of Art. “Imagine working for years to obtain a piece of paper we can hardly read ” Katherine joked. “And to officially declare you have talent ” Suzy returned.

Love, what a rare, inexplicable state of being as well as feeling.

Liberace was certainly master and commander of the ivories ~ he is the only pianist I can watch or listen to without suffering a case of 'Stagefright Sympathy Sickness'.

I detect the activist returning with a vengence.

Has father from Heaven Sent the Angel to me?

Yet, beauty cannot be forgotten, Eternal Wisdom can never die ...

Have they known scorn like you Five cellars down?

The Scorpion? The Grasshopper? Which way will she go?

If that's the case, waiter, please bring me another piece of cake," Gramps said as lunch was brought to the table, "I'm all for fighting tyranny and oppression.

I'm all for fighting tyranny and oppression.

If you want to keep people happy, just keep the food and entertainment rolling.

If we danced and shared music, we'd be too busy en-joy-in' life to start a war.

Admiring a creative soul at work is almost as satisfying as making your own paintings.

Opportunities are like fish on a hook, haul them in when you get the chance before they slip away. You'll always be kicking yourself if you let the Big One go.

A conscience without regrets ~ to live life without having to say you're sorry.

You won't do your best unless your creative fire is allowed to burn free.

(The Mona Lisa), that really is the ugliest portrait I’ve seen, the only thing that supposedly makes it famous is the mystery behind it,” Katherine admitted as she remembered her trips to the Louvre and how she shook her head at the poor tourists crowding around to see a jaundiced, eyebrow-less lady that reminded her of tight-lipped Washington on the dollar bill. Surely, they could have chosen a better portrait of the First President for their currency?

If. If. If this all happened! I, F, - he had to hang on to those two little letters, just one tiny two letter word. If. So much hope and dread hung in the balance on those two little blips in the alphabet! A chasm in fact!

The chopping block was not confined to one era, nor one form or country. There were many types of martyrdoms, spiritual as well as physical ones; visible and invisible, the block took on many forms and could be encountered anywhere, any time.

Sometimes we can make our own opportunities, sometimes we can see them coming, but more often than not they are like pop quizzes, they are sprung on you like a challenge to test your skills, almost like a dare to see if you can take that leap of faith to make whatever it is a success. Wait too long, and an excellent opportunity might slip away.

Heaven is not a republic.

I've never seen a nation more quick at finding joy in a sad situation than the Irish at a funeral.

Sometimes there's an element of truth in a smidgeon of sarcasm.

By now, with all our modern technology, there should be no poverty left on earth.

Music helps to forget This forsaken tomb, That is my abode Cellars down Far below Under the ground, ...

No more can this Angel teach her, Yet, this guiding wing shall not forsake ...

Pity that child who was born near Rouen, His only crime, to arrive deformed.

If Erik existed and lived life in despair, We wish him to know we are here and we care.

Sublime wonders lie in store, I am shown a regal residence; a mighty kingdom, an empire with more grandeur than before ...

Now Leroux, what think you Of this twist to the story?

I have been told the best things in life are free ~ I found them very expensive.

... far be it from a French man to interfere with love.

(Marlowe's) Faustus stubbornly reverts to his atheistic beliefs and continues his elementary pagan re-education ~ the inferno to him is a 'place' invented by men.

There's a difference between a blessed increase and greedy oversolicitous hoarding.

A man has not fully lived until he experiences that gentle balmy clime of ancient empires, the land of lemon trees and the genius of Michelangelo.

Mercy is far better than justice, even if it is your right to ask for it.

If you are not noble in your thoughts and actions, no title awarded by any king or queen can make you so.

... if you have the talent and can create, what's stopping you? You're the same creative person whether or not you have a degree in art.

... once evil is invited in, tremendous effort is required to show it to the door and kick its cloven hoof off the threshold.

Victory only comes through wear and tear.

Upon the publication of Goethe’s epic drama, the Faustian legend had reached an almost unapproachable zenith. Although many failed to appreciate, or indeed, to understand this magnum opus in its entirety, from this point onward his drama was the rule by which all other Faust adaptations were measured. Goethe had eclipsed the earlier legends and became the undisputed authority on the subject of Faust in the eyes of the new Romantic generation. To deviate from his path would be nothing short of blasphemy.

... there was one new metallic monstrosity stacked in one corner that she hadn’t seen the last time she was a visitor to his strange chamber, it appeared to be a mass of hard drives all fused together, but they looked too sophisticated to be merely hard drives. “What on earth is that?” “That’s my Kung Fu,” he said proudly, patting the top of the futuristic-looking stack. “Is that what you wanted to show me?” “No, but it’s impressive, isn’t it?” “If you say so.” Steves sighed and shook his head, so few people could appreciate the intellectual complexity of an almost untraceable hacking device.

... Faustus ... dared to confirm he had advanced beyond the level of a scarlet sinner — he was a conscious follower of the Prince of Darkness. The fact he could publicly project an Antichrist image with pride, having no fear of reprisal, and his seeming diabolical art of escaping all punishment when others who were considered heretics had burned at the stake for less, would certainly signal that an unnatural individual walked in their midst. It is true in many respects he assumed the role of the charlatan, yet how apropos, considering his willingness to follow his ‘brother-in-law’ known as the Father of Lies and deception.

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You mean something like ‘truth or dare’? I haven’t played that in a long time.” She didn’t think he would ever get himself entangled in a game like that, but it was addictive, a compromising icebreaker featuring all the strategy of Poker, minus the cards, mixed with a dash of danger from Russian Roulette, without the revolver.

Monsieur, you must be mad! Box Five can never be had For money, love or the world ...

Stop teasing you two,” Suzy jumped in, “not all of Kathy’s ideas are wacky.” “Gee thanks. Was that supposed to be a compliment?

I love the longueurs of a book even if they seem pointless because you can get a peek into the author’s mind, a glimpse of their creative soul.

Life has a cruel way of reminding one and all it stops for no one and simply marches on, dragging everyone with it.

How can you be inspired if you do not surround yourself with the things that inspire you?

Serious matters, especially those involving God, should never be decided upon without invoking God.

It was one of those puzzling facts of life that women either celebrated a happy event or solved their problems with a shopping spree.

Demonic spirits never sleep or take a vacation, always plotting and waiting for the next offensive.

O, elixir of youth, thy name is hair dye.

A lasting happiness cannot be attained by seeking temporary happiness.

Art is not just about revealing beauty, it can also be used to reveal truth.

There is no such thing as a coincidence and there are no accidents in God's creation.

Finally, Charlie gave up the hunt and placed (the puppy) back on the floor, dispatching fleas was not his idea of a romantic evening, unless you happened to be a twisted exterminator, he thought.

Truth and Wisdom are always attractive and beautiful even when they are not attractive and beautiful, or mankind would not be seeking them so much despite the harsh reality they portrayed at times.

Finding a taxi, she felt like a child pressing her nose to the window of a candy store as she watched the changing vista pass by while the twilight descended and the capital became bathed in a translucent misty lavender glow. Entering the city from that airport was truly unique. Charles de Gaulle, built nineteen miles north of the bustling metropolis, ensured that the final point of destination was veiled from the eyes of the traveller as they descended. No doubt, the officials scrupulously planned the airport’s location to prevent the incessant air traffic and roaring engines from visibly or audibly polluting the ambience of their beloved capital, and apparently, they succeeded. If one flew over during the summer months, the visitor would be visibly presented with beautifully managed quilt-like fields of alternating gold and green appearing as though they were tilled and clipped with the mathematical precision of a slide rule. The countryside was dotted with quaint villages and towns that were obviously under meticulous planning control. When the aircraft began to descend, this prevailing sense of exactitude and order made the visitor long for an aerial view of the capital city and its famous wonders, hoping they could see as many landmarks as they could before they touched ground, as was the usual case with other major international airports, but from this point of entry, one was denied a glimpse of the city below. Green fields, villages, more fields, the ground grew closer and closer, a runway appeared, a slight bump or two was felt as the craft landed, and they were surrounded by the steel and glass buildings of the airport. Slightly disappointed with this mysterious game of hide-and-seek, the voyager must continue on and collect their baggage, consoled by the reflection that they will see the metropolis as they make their way into town. For those travelling by road, the concrete motorway with its blue road signs, the underpasses and the typical traffic-logged hubbub of industrial areas were the first landmarks to greet the eye, without a doubt, it was a disheartening first impression. Then, the real introduction began. Quietly, and almost imperceptibly, the modern confusion of steel and asphalt was effaced little by little as the exquisite timelessness of Parisian heritage architecture was gradually unveiled. Popping up like mushrooms were cream sandstone edifices filigreed with curled, swirling carvings, gently sloping mansard roofs, elegant ironwork lanterns and wood doors that charmed the eye, until finally, the traveller was completely submerged in the glory of the Second Empire ala Baron Haussmann’s master plan of city design, the iconic grand mansions, tree-lined boulevards and avenues, the quaint gardens, the majestic churches with their towers and spires, the shops and cafés with their colourful awnings, all crowded and nestled together like jewels encrusted on a gold setting.

Loving someone to the threshold of marriage doesn't mean the difficulties of life are suddenly going to disappear. You're both going to do a lot of forgiving and overlooking each other's faults over the years if you truly want a happy marriage.

There may be some truth (atheists) do not need to believe in a god to be good, but then if they do not believe in a god, who do they believe gives the Universal Law of following good and shunning evil? Obviously, mankind. But then that is a dangerous thing, for if a man does not believe in a god capable of giving perfect laws, he is in the position of declaring all laws come from man, and as man is imperfect, he can declare that as fallible men make imperfect laws, he can pick and choose what he wishes to follow, that which, in his own mind seems good. He does not believe in divine retribution, therefore he can also declare his own morality contrary to what the divine may decree simply because he believes there is no divine decree. He may follow his every whim and passion, declaring it to be good when it may be very evil, for he like all men is imperfect, so how can he tell what is verily good? The atheist is in danger of mistaking vice for good and consequently follow another slave master and tyrant, his own physical and mental weakness. Evil would be wittingly or unwittingly perpetrated, therefore, to recognise the existence of a perfect divine being that gives perfect Universal Laws is much better than not to believe in a god, for if there is a perfect god, they will not allow their laws to be broken with impunity as in the case with many corrupt judges on earth, but will punish accordingly in due time. Therefore, to be pious and reverent is the surest path to true freedom as a perfect god will give perfect laws to prevent all manner of slavery, tyranny and moral wantonness, even if we do not understand why they are good laws at times.

... the reader is probably wondering that if Tolkien did indeed fashion two of his heroic characters from Catholic prophecies, what about the evil protagonists? Were any of them inspired by these little-known revelations concerning future times? The answer is yes, but to discover the links between the myth and the prophecies, we must venture not only into the realm of unnerving revelations, but also into the murky world of secret sects, dark plots, occult signs, bloody revolutions and conspiracy theories ~ we must probe deep into the burning Eye of Sauron.

Having considered Handel's tumultuous opera career and his first term at Covent Garden in the 1730s, perhaps we may dare to suggest he was one of the foremost pioneers in establishing autonomy within the traditional system of music patronage, notwithstanding his efforts to become an independent impressario often proved disappointing.

What was that? Valentine's Day? Her heart gave a little skip at the thought, she had never spent it in a romantic way before, usually the day meant sending and receiving cute Cupid cards and heart shaped sugar candies, but it was all in a platonic celebration of friendship. This time, it would not be like that, it would be ... special.

Handel's yearning for independence from the traditional chains of patronage and his persistence in monitoring his productions resulted with unique developments concerning Baroque 'opera seria'; however, paradoxically his personal obsession to obtain complete artistic freedom generated disastrous side-effects that eventually impeded the progress of opera in London.

Only a fool says in his heart There is no Creator, no King of kings, Only mules would dare to bray These lethal mutterings. Over darkened minds as these The Darkness bears full sway, Fruitless, yet, bearing fruit, In their fell, destructive way. Sterile, though proliferate, A filthy progeny sees the day, When Evil, Thought and Action mate: Breeding sin, rebels and decay. The blackest deeds and foul ideals, Multiply throughout the earth, Through deadened, lifeless, braying souls, The Darkness labours and gives birth. Taking the Lord’s abundant gifts And rotting them to the core, They dress their dish and serve it out Foul seeds to infect thousands more. ‘The Tree of Life is dead!’ they cry, ‘And that of Knowledge not enough, Let us glut on the ashen apples Of Sodom and Gomorrah.’ Have pity on Thy children, Lord, Left sorrowing on this earth, While fools and all their kindred Cast shadows with their murk, And to the dwindling wise, They toss their heads and wryly smirk. The world daily grinds to dust Virtue’s fair unicorns, Rather, it would now beget Vice’s mutant manticores. Wisdom crushed, our joy is gone, Buried under anxious fears For lost rights and freedoms, We shed many bitter tears. Death is life, Life is no more, Humanity buried in a tomb, In a fatal prenatal world Where tiny flowers Are ripped from the womb, Discarded, thrown away, Inconvenient lives That barely bloomed. Our elders fare no better, Their wisdom unwanted by and by, Boarded out to end their days, And forsaken are left to die. Only the youthful and the useful, In this capital age prosper and fly. Yet, they too are quickly strangled, Before their future plans are met, Professions legally pre-enslaved Held bound by mounting student debt. Our leaders all harangue for peace Yet perpetrate the horror, Of economic greed shored up Through manufactured war. Our armies now welter In foreign civilian gore. How many of our kin are slain For hollow martial honour? As if we could forget, ignore, The scourge of nuclear power, Alas, victors are rarely tried For their woeful crimes of war. Hope and pray we never see A repeat of Hiroshima. No more! Crimes are legion, The deeds of devil-spawn! What has happened to the souls Your Divine Image was minted on? They are now recast: Crooked coins of Caesar and The Whore of Babylon. How often mankind shuts its ears To Your music celestial, Mankind would rather march To the anthems of Hell. If humanity cannot be reclaimed By Your Mercy and great Love Deservedly we should be struck By Vengeance from above. Many dread the Final Day, And the Crack of Doom For others the Apocalypse Will never come too soon. ‘Lift up your heads, be glad’, Fools shall bray no more For at last the Master comes To thresh His threshing floor.

So it’s true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.” —E.A. Bucchianeri

When all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.

If typos are God's way of keeping a writer humble, plot holes certainly keeps one on their knees.

Tolkien did admit that, 'As a guide, I had only my own feelings for what is appealing or moving.' In other words ~ he wrote about what interested him ~ and despite his protestation of including anything allegorical into his tale, Catholic history and mystic prophecy obviously received its fair share of attention ...

There was nothing so harrowing as that fiendish sadistic laugh revealing the entity taking gluttonous delight in causing him excruciating pain and fear.

Empires were not built in a day, nor homes in an hour.

Heaven's ways do not always display themselves in a spectacular science-defying manner.

The Darkness was going to take quite some getting used to, if ever.

Ah yes, the joys of free enterprise, which is never free of anything be it taxes, bills, or stress.