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	<title>Comments on: I love this poem&#8230;.</title>
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		<title>By: podrock</title>
		<link>https://habitablezone.com/2013/05/13/i-love-this-poem/#comment-23956</link>
		<dc:creator>podrock</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 14 May 2013 22:33:24 +0000</pubDate>
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		<description>[youtube]q7vtWB4owdE[/youtube]
[youtube]D8Q1fDf0GeY[/youtube]</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>[youtube]q7vtWB4owdE[/youtube]<br />
[youtube]D8Q1fDf0GeY[/youtube]</p>
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		<title>By: alcaray</title>
		<link>https://habitablezone.com/2013/05/13/i-love-this-poem/#comment-23953</link>
		<dc:creator>alcaray</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 14 May 2013 20:38:19 +0000</pubDate>
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		<description>&#039;Well, boys ... I haven&#039;t a thing to say.  Played a great game...all of you. Great game.  

I guess we just can&#039;t expect to win ‘em all.  I&#039;m going to tell you something I&#039;ve kept to myself for years -- None of you ever knew George Gipp.  It was long before your time.  But you know what a tradition he is at Notre Dame... 

And the last thing he said to me -- &quot;Rock,&quot; he said - &quot;sometime, when the team is up against it -- and the breaks are beating the boys -- tell them to go out there with all they got and win just one for the Gipper...

I don&#039;t know where I&#039;ll be then, Rock&quot;, he said - &quot;but I&#039;ll know about it - and I&#039;ll be happy.&quot;&#039;
 
Knute Rockne by way of MGM</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>&#8216;Well, boys &#8230; I haven&#8217;t a thing to say.  Played a great game&#8230;all of you. Great game.  </p>
<p>I guess we just can&#8217;t expect to win ‘em all.  I&#8217;m going to tell you something I&#8217;ve kept to myself for years &#8212; None of you ever knew George Gipp.  It was long before your time.  But you know what a tradition he is at Notre Dame&#8230; </p>
<p>And the last thing he said to me &#8212; &#8220;Rock,&#8221; he said &#8211; &#8220;sometime, when the team is up against it &#8212; and the breaks are beating the boys &#8212; tell them to go out there with all they got and win just one for the Gipper&#8230;</p>
<p>I don&#8217;t know where I&#8217;ll be then, Rock&#8221;, he said &#8211; &#8220;but I&#8217;ll know about it &#8211; and I&#8217;ll be happy.&#8221;&#8216;</p>
<p>Knute Rockne by way of MGM</p>
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		<title>By: ER</title>
		<link>https://habitablezone.com/2013/05/13/i-love-this-poem/#comment-23950</link>
		<dc:creator>ER</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 14 May 2013 19:46:13 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://habitablezone.com/?p=32597#comment-23950</guid>
		<description>&lt;a href=&quot;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlfCBX2CwMM&quot; rel=&quot;nofollow&quot;&gt;Surprise is on our side.&lt;/a&gt;</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlfCBX2CwMM" rel="nofollow">Surprise is on our side.</a></p>
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		<title>By: ER</title>
		<link>https://habitablezone.com/2013/05/13/i-love-this-poem/#comment-23936</link>
		<dc:creator>ER</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 14 May 2013 01:45:57 +0000</pubDate>
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		<description>My loving people,


         We have been persuaded by some that are careful of our safety, to take heed how we commit our selves to armed multitudes, for fear of treachery; but I assure you I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people. Let tyrants fear, I have always so behaved myself that, under God, I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and good-will of my subjects; and therefore I am come amongst you, as you see, at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live and die amongst you all; to lay down for my God, and for my kingdom, and my people, my honour and my blood, even in the dust. I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too, and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm; to which rather than any dishonour shall grow by me, I myself will take up arms, I myself will be your general, judge, and rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field. I know already, for your forwardness you have deserved rewards and crowns; and We do assure you in the word of a prince, they shall be duly paid you. In the mean time, my lieutenant general shall be in my stead, than whom never prince commanded a more noble or worthy subject; not doubting but by your obedience to my general, by your concord in the camp, and your valour in the field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over those enemies of my God, of my kingdom, and of my people. 


--Delivered by Elizabeth I to the land forces assembled to repulse the expected landing of the Spanish of the Spanish Armada.

Tilbury, 1588</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>My loving people,</p>
<p>         We have been persuaded by some that are careful of our safety, to take heed how we commit our selves to armed multitudes, for fear of treachery; but I assure you I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people. Let tyrants fear, I have always so behaved myself that, under God, I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and good-will of my subjects; and therefore I am come amongst you, as you see, at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live and die amongst you all; to lay down for my God, and for my kingdom, and my people, my honour and my blood, even in the dust. I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too, and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm; to which rather than any dishonour shall grow by me, I myself will take up arms, I myself will be your general, judge, and rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field. I know already, for your forwardness you have deserved rewards and crowns; and We do assure you in the word of a prince, they shall be duly paid you. In the mean time, my lieutenant general shall be in my stead, than whom never prince commanded a more noble or worthy subject; not doubting but by your obedience to my general, by your concord in the camp, and your valour in the field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over those enemies of my God, of my kingdom, and of my people. </p>
<p>&#8211;Delivered by Elizabeth I to the land forces assembled to repulse the expected landing of the Spanish of the Spanish Armada.</p>
<p>Tilbury, 1588</p>
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		<title>By: FrankC</title>
		<link>https://habitablezone.com/2013/05/13/i-love-this-poem/#comment-23934</link>
		<dc:creator>FrankC</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 13 May 2013 23:14:10 +0000</pubDate>
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		<description>I don&#039;t really have a favorite but this is one I re-read often.

from Henry V (1599) by William Shakespeare


WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!

KING. What’s he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark’d to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say “To-morrow is Saint Crispian.”
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say “These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.”
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I don&#8217;t really have a favorite but this is one I re-read often.</p>
<p>from Henry V (1599) by William Shakespeare</p>
<p>WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here<br />
But one ten thousand of those men in England<br />
That do no work to-day!</p>
<p>KING. What’s he that wishes so?<br />
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;<br />
If we are mark’d to die, we are enow<br />
To do our country loss; and if to live,<br />
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.<br />
God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.<br />
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,<br />
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;<br />
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;<br />
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.<br />
But if it be a sin to covet honour,<br />
I am the most offending soul alive.<br />
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.<br />
God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour<br />
As one man more methinks would share from me<br />
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!<br />
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,<br />
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,<br />
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,<br />
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;<br />
We would not die in that man’s company<br />
That fears his fellowship to die with us.<br />
This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.<br />
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,<br />
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,<br />
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.<br />
He that shall live this day, and see old age,<br />
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,<br />
And say “To-morrow is Saint Crispian.”<br />
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,<br />
And say “These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.”<br />
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,<br />
But he’ll remember, with advantages,<br />
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,<br />
Familiar in his mouth as household words-<br />
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,<br />
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-<br />
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.<br />
This story shall the good man teach his son;<br />
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,<br />
From this day to the ending of the world,<br />
But we in it shall be remembered-<br />
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;<br />
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me<br />
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,<br />
This day shall gentle his condition;<br />
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed<br />
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,<br />
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks<br />
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.</p>
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		<title>By: ER</title>
		<link>https://habitablezone.com/2013/05/13/i-love-this-poem/#comment-23929</link>
		<dc:creator>ER</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 13 May 2013 21:14:21 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://habitablezone.com/?p=32597#comment-23929</guid>
		<description>My mistress&#039; eyes are nothing like the sun
Coral is far more red than her lips&#039; red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damask&#039;d, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

Sonnet 130, W. Shakespeare</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>My mistress&#8217; eyes are nothing like the sun<br />
Coral is far more red than her lips&#8217; red;<br />
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;<br />
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.</p>
<p>I have seen roses damask&#8217;d, red and white,<br />
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;<br />
And in some perfumes is there more delight<br />
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.</p>
<p>I love to hear her speak, yet well I know<br />
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;<br />
I grant I never saw a goddess go;<br />
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:</p>
<p>And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare<br />
As any she belied with false compare.</p>
<p>Sonnet 130, W. Shakespeare</p>
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		<title>By: alcaray</title>
		<link>https://habitablezone.com/2013/05/13/i-love-this-poem/#comment-23927</link>
		<dc:creator>alcaray</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 13 May 2013 20:07:32 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://habitablezone.com/?p=32597#comment-23927</guid>
		<description>dang you beat me to the Macbeth</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>dang you beat me to the Macbeth</p>
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	</item>
	<item>
		<title>By: ER</title>
		<link>https://habitablezone.com/2013/05/13/i-love-this-poem/#comment-23923</link>
		<dc:creator>ER</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 13 May 2013 19:29:48 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://habitablezone.com/?p=32597#comment-23923</guid>
		<description>You will recall I posted his 73rd sonnet here a few weeks ago (&quot;That time of year thou may&#039;st in me behold...&quot;

Here is another one of my favorites, the famous Macbeth soliloquy.  His world is crumbling about him, his castle is beseiged by his enemies, and he has just received the news his mad wife, the only person he loves, has just committed suicide.

She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life&#039;s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing. 

— Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 5, lines 17-28)</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>You will recall I posted his 73rd sonnet here a few weeks ago (&#8220;That time of year thou may&#8217;st in me behold&#8230;&#8221;</p>
<p>Here is another one of my favorites, the famous Macbeth soliloquy.  His world is crumbling about him, his castle is beseiged by his enemies, and he has just received the news his mad wife, the only person he loves, has just committed suicide.</p>
<p>She should have died hereafter;<br />
There would have been a time for such a word.<br />
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,<br />
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,<br />
To the last syllable of recorded time;<br />
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools<br />
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!<br />
Life&#8217;s but a walking shadow, a poor player<br />
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage<br />
And then is heard no more. It is a tale<br />
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury<br />
Signifying nothing. </p>
<p>— Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 5, lines 17-28)</p>
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