Open your door, let me in.
"Hey rabbit, hey rabbit
Can you read the stars?
I get distracted
Sleeping in my coat again."
Who killed the Kennedy's?Can't let today go by without my small, humble remembrance. It was a day everything changed and don't ask me to explain, because if you were not there, you will never understand. If you were, there is nothing else to say. That we have let the questions go on so long without answers, it is our bad. The killers walk among us.
When after all, it was you and me.
Every year, without fail, the president dies all over again. For a few days every autumn, the entire media is overwhelmed by those haunting photos from Dallas. Those cruelly happy and innocent pictures of a young president smiling and waving at bystanders, the first lady clutching a bouquet of roses. With their soft, prelapsarian colors, they seem to hail from another universe—one that has been stolen from us.
Perhaps it is that feeling of loss that explains the lingering sense of grief over John F. Kennedy’s assassination year after year, when the anniversaries of other, equally shocking events—from Pearl Harbor to 9/11—are generally quieter affairs. But there is also something unfinished about Kennedy’s death, a lingering suspicion that no one has ever been able to banish.
Why are you here?
Why are you taking this course?
"I came here in ’62. The curriculum then was drawing, painting, design — period,” Manupelli said. “I tried to get them to do sound as design. You don’t need to be a musician to make music. I didn’t get to teach film for nine years, and (I worked) without pay; I took the deal because I wanted to get at the students.”
George Manupelli died in Bethlehem, New Hampshire, where he lived, on Sunday, Sept. 14 at age 82. He was a filmmaker, artist and professor at the University of Michigan School of Art and Design.
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm
Yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new
In city and in forest, they smiled like me and you
But now it's come to distances and both of us must try
Your eyes are soft with sorrow
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye
"I was just, I mean there was a lot about the way I was living at the time that just wasn't working and I was really feeling that and that's pretty much the song. You know, I don't think those feelings were unique to me, or unique to that time and place, they're, they're feelings that everybody, I think, well as its says in the song: sooner or later it's going to get ya. Um, hopefully not for long and not often, you know but...."
Sandy Denny (6 January 1947 – 21 April 1978)
"I will never, ever give a woman my dignity. When a woman is taking advantage of my kindness, when she is taking me for granted, when she thinks that her mere presence is enough for me, I will walk away. Absolutely no woman can treat me in any other way than I believe I should be treated. No matter where I am in life, no matter whom I’m with, dignity will be a part of my spirit, until the very end."