Mamma Mia to the flower power!

I just watched the new musical Mamma Mia. Has all those ABBAs songs... At one point I used to find them a little cheesy. But then they are terribly hummable and sorta cute. But I actually like the movie's OST than ABBAs. And I just loved the film! I was totally stunned by Meryl Streeps performance. Especially her rendition of Winner Takes It All. I mean it comes so easy to her and the song has some vocal somersaults really... She was totally amazing at it. Her Donna is around fortyish but still has that fun and innocent side to her which Streep brings out beautifully. Few people can age that gracefully.
But the real discovery for me was Pierce Brosnan. I never really liked his Bond and I hadn't see any of his other work. But he was amazing in the movie. Matching vocal chords with Streep must have been a task but he did it perfectly. (Mmmmm.. and imagine Pierce Brosnan with a stubble, in all earnest SOSing you.What more would you want?!)
Colin Firth was a delight too. He did a nice job with Our Last Summer. He has a clear voice. Also Christina Baranski doin that 'Does Your Mother Know' bit is perfectly outrageously funny!

Overall it was very fresh, very new, wonderful performances by everyone and totally fun!

Let us speak not of you or me
Of what has been said or unspoken yet..
Lest it violate that which is sacred

But with each step forward
Reminisce awhile
For memories time reclaims with every dusty mile

And maybe in a moment or an eternity
You will see...

A thousand adieus
But in vain my dear friend
For in your deepest
You know
We ll meet again.

The preface to 'The picture of Dorian Grey' by Oscar Wilde.

The artist is the creator of beautiful things.

To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim.

The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.

The highest as the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography. Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming.

This is a fault.

Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope.

They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only beauty.

There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written.

That is all.

The nineteenth century dislike of realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass.

The nineteenth century dislike of romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in a glass.

The moral life of man forms part of the subject-matter of the artist, but the morality of art consists in the perfect use of an imperfect medium. No artist desires to prove anything. Even things that are true can be proved.

No artist has ethical sympathies.

An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style. No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything.

Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art.

Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art.

From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art of the musician.

From the point of view of feeling, the actor's craft is the type.

All art is at once surface and symbol.

Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.

Those who read the symbol do so at their peril.

It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.

Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital.

When critics disagree, the artist is in accord with himself.

We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely.

All art is quite useless.

Calvin & Hobbes

Just take a look at these gems... I cant help but admire him! heh.

“Why isn’t my life like a situation comedy? Why don’t I have a bunch of friends with nothing better to do but drop by and instigate wacky adventures? Why aren’t my conversations peppered with spontaneous witticisms? Why don’t my friends demonstrate heartfelt concern for my well being when I have problems? …I gotta get my life some writers.”

“Well, it just seemed wrong to cheat on an ethics test.”

People think it must be fun to be a super genius, but they don’t realize how hard it is to put up with all the idiots in the world.”

Leave it to a girl to take the fun out of sex discrimination.

Why should I have to WORK for everything?! It’s like saying I don’t deserve it!

If you do the job badly enough, sometimes you don’t get asked to do it again.

From 'Out of Africa'...
Meryl Streep as Karen Blixen...

"If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Will the air over the plain quiver with a color that I have had on, or the children invent a game in which my name is, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or will the eagles of the Ngong Hills look out for me? "

Found this poem in a movie calles 'In her shoes'...d movie was kinda cute. Loved the poem.


I carry your heart with me
(I carry it in
my heart)
I am never without it
(anywhere I go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
I fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

-E.E.Cummings

I remember the days I used to be an athlete... Practising everyday. You know, its not just about winning medals. I mean of course, that IS the whole point. I sure liked to wear one around my neck,standing on the podium. Actually gives you a high!But more than winning, I always loved the working hard part.

Like the travels better than the destination.

Practising hard. To reach the limit when your body cant take anymore.... but you ve got to go just a little more.To jump just a little bit higher or run a little more further. Just a bit more. And you ll be there.And when you re so terribly tired, when all you want is to crash in a nice cosy bed,wen you cant take a step further, THEN you feel alive.... technically too, coz your hearts doing an overtime. The beats echo through your whole body.Pulse soundin in your head.The nerve in your forehead is throbbin and about to explode.

And after months of pushing on, you reach the field. Just before the heat starts...
You are in the startin position, spikes firmly in the startin block.A slight tingle in your heart. Weight on fingers, trembling under the pressure.And then look up from there, see the red track. A straight line.With white rectangles.... one inside the other.Eight hurdles. And the finish line.

THAT is divine.

Gah. Does it really matter?! Who gives a damn anyway.