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The tropical romanticism
20 Nov 2008
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Have a taste of Mikhail Rudy’s ‘Masters of Romanticism’ upcoming concerts at Kings Place (18, 19 February 2009) In this video Rudy plays Chopin’s Nocturne opus 27 No2.
17 Jan 2009
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This boatsman got his oar stuck on a bridge and just splashed in the water, making the passengers laugh!
29 Jul 2019
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hard times for romanticism
15 Feb 2008
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From Album - 1979 - Morning Dance ...By STUDIO DELTA Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favour of fair use."
7 Apr 2019
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At Milanoo**** we have various wedding dresses such as Minimalism,Romanticism,Luxury,Elegant styles. Come to here and choose your own wedding dress.
1 Jan 2010
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Until 15 January 2012 the special exhibition "Medieval Art Treasures" is taking place at the Tyrolean State Museum Ferdinandeum Innsbruck. On an area of 800 m² late Romanticism's as well as early and late Gothic's masterpieces are exposed. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Bis zum 15. Jänner 2012 zeigt das Tiroler Landesmuseum Ferdinandeum die Sonderausstellung "Kunstschätze des Mittelalters". Auf 800 m² Ausstellungsfläche werden Meisterwerke der Spätromantik sowie der Früh- und Spätgotik präsentiert.
22 Jun 2011
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The animation points at the enthusiasm when city inhabitants are about to face a natural scenery in their spare time. Spectators, when entering the animated scene join a journey trough the forest. They experience nature, which is about to be vanish. Spherical shape of the ground plan implies that we are confronted with a journey around the world. The nature we experience is no longer pure. Forests are being compacted to protected reserves. Natural environment becomes designed in the form of post-natural parks and recreational areas. Time passes with the clouds changing dynamically. As we walk forward we see no change of the present state. The animation traps a viewer in a loop.
4 Apr 2007
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Music is the space between the notes Claude Debussy First Video of classical contemporary darknez by BW RECKNAGEL with "Requiem For A Friend" ***********/watch?v=ivJNxQq0yRw
21 Jul 2009
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Classical Contemporary Darknezz by German Composer BW RECKNAGEL. Taken from the Album BW RECKNAGEL "Nihilum" www.bwrecknagel****
24 Jul 2009
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Ya Rabba Full Song- Salam E Ishq -Sad Song
19 Sep 2009
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The chilean pianist Javier Malebrán plays Scriabin Etude No.12 Op.8 in a concert at the ULS - Chile.
19 Sep 2010
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A short love story in 1 minute 20 seconds based on a Tennyson poem. A film about talking to those you've lost and finding solace in their memory. Shot over the course of four days in Los Angeles as my thesis project from film school. Writer/Director/Editor/Sound/Visual Effects: JOHN X. CAREY -- JOHNXCAREY.COM
10 Aug 2011
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John Keats - A Thing Of Beauty - From Endymion - Book I - Read by Douglas Hodge A Thing Of Beauty From Endymion - Book I by John Keats (1795-1821) A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing A flowery band to bind us to the earth, Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon For simple sheep; and such are daffodils With the green world they live in; and clear rills That for themselves a cooling covert make 'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake, Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms: And such too is the grandeur of the dooms We have imagined for the mighty dead; All lovely tales that we have heard or read: An endless fountain of immortal drink, Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink. Nor do we merely feel these essences For one short hour; no, even as the trees That whisper round a temple become soon Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon, The passion poesy, glories infinite, Haunt us till they become a cheering light Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast That, whether there be shine or gloom o'ercast, They always must be with us, or we die.
9 Sep 2011
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William Wordsworth - Tintern Abbey - Lines Composed A Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey On Revisting The Banks Of The Wye During A Tour, 13 July 1798 - Read by Michael Sheen Tintern Abbey by William Wordsworth (1770-1850) Five years have past; five summers, with the length Of five long winters! and again I hear These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs With a soft inland murmur. Once again Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, That on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky. The day is come when I again repose Here, under this dark sycamore, and view These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts, Which at this season, with their unripe fruits, Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves 'Mid groves and copses. Once again I see These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms, Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke Sent up, in silence, from among the trees! With some uncertain notice, as might seem Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire The Hermit sits alone. These beauteous forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye: But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind With tranquil restoration: - feelings too Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence On that best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered, acts Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust, To them I may have owed another gift, Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood, In which the burthen of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world, Is lightened: - that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us on-- Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things. If this Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft-- In darkness and amid the many shapes Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart-- How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee! And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought, With many recognitions dim and faint, And somewhat of a sad perplexity, The picture of the mind revives again: While here I stand, not only with the sense Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts That in this moment there is life and food For future years. And so I dare to hope, Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first I came among these hills; when like a roe I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, Wherever nature led: more like a man Flying from something that he dreads, than one Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then (The coarser pleasures of my boyish days And their glad animal movements all gone by) To me was all in all. - I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye. - That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts Have followed; for such loss, I would believe, Abundant recompense. For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes The still sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue. And I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man: A motion and a spirit, that impels All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods And mountains; and of all that we behold From this green earth; of all the mighty world Of eye, and ear, - both what they half create, And what perceive; well pleased to recognize In nature and the language of the sense The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul Of all my moral being. Nor perchance, If I were not thus taught, should I the more Suffer my genial spirits to decay: For thou art with me here upon the banks Of this fair river; thou my dearest Friend, My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart, and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once, My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon Shine on thee in thy solitary walk; And let the misty mountain-winds be free To blow against thee: and, in after years, When these wild ecstasies shall be matured Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance-- If I should be where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence - wilt thou then forget That on the banks of this delightful stream We stood together; and that I, so long A worshipper of Nature, hither came Unwearied in that service: rather say With warmer love - oh! with far deeper zeal Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget, That after many wanderings, many years Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs, And this green pastoral landscape, were to me More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!
11 Sep 2011
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Cambridge researcher Ruth Abbott takes us on a journey into William Wordsworth's mind and the process of creation.
13 Sep 2011
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