Whahamijn motto voor meisjes is :
liever een stevige B dan een hangende C
Lijfspreuk/levensmotto
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junior
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max
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- Lid geworden op: 17 jan 2005, 23:25
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Hoe meer mensen je onderschatten, hoe meer je er zal verbazen is mijn motto, mijn moto is een BMW
Aprés moi, le déluge
http://www.dambusters.be
http://www.dambusters.be
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Marc 82 Recon
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- Lid geworden op: 14 aug 2004, 17:46
- Locatie: Arendonk België
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junior
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- Locatie: Heaven on Earth
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pieter_pba
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- Lid geworden op: 02 mar 2005, 19:31
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Is ook de titel van een gedicht van Wilfred Owen. Hij heeft als Engelse officier in WO1 gevochten. Toen hij in een hospitaal terecht kwam ontmoette hij Siegfried Sassoon, een andere dichter uit de Eerste Wereldoorlog.Peter schreef:Hier de mijne:
Dulce Et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori. ( Het is goed en zoet te sterven voor het vaderland )
Dulce et Decorum Est
[...]
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Whoever saves one life, saves the world entire. Whoever destroys one life, destroys the whole universe.
Zeer mooi gedicht, ik kende het niet! Gezien de tijdsgeest ( en eigenlijk tegenwoordig nog... ) absoluut waar. De heldendood bestaat niet.pieter_pba schreef:Is ook de titel van een gedicht van Wilfred Owen. Hij heeft als Engelse officier in WO1 gevochten. Toen hij in een hospitaal terecht kwam ontmoette hij Siegfried Sassoon, een andere dichter uit de Eerste Wereldoorlog.Peter schreef:Hier de mijne:
Dulce Et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori. ( Het is goed en zoet te sterven voor het vaderland )
Dulce et Decorum Est
[...]
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Daar is 'ie weer!
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pieter_pba
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- Lid geworden op: 02 mar 2005, 19:31
- Locatie: Barendrecht
Misschien voor de liefhebbers (:lol:) het complete gedicht 'Dulce et decorum est' van Wilfred Owen.
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys -- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys -- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Whoever saves one life, saves the world entire. Whoever destroys one life, destroys the whole universe.
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wittmann
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- Berichten: 1451
- Lid geworden op: 20 okt 2004, 17:11
Re: Lijfspreuk/levensmotto
dat betekend trouwens:wittmann schreef:
--->Si vis Pacem, Parabellum<---
-----> I'ff you want peace, prepare for war! <--------
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Boroskov
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- Lid geworden op: 18 feb 2005, 12:23
- Locatie: Vlaardingen
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