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Strategies & Market Trends : Paint The Table -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: MulhollandDrive who wrote (1885)	11/14/2001 4:07:44 PM
From: Lost1	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 23786

crispinmusic.org "The Starry Night" is a 19th century painting by the Dutch painter Vincent Van Gogh, and is part of one of the greatest artist portfolios the world has ever known. Though much is known about Van Gogh's personal tragedy of epilepsy and depression, his lifelong search for meaning and consequently, God, is often of little interest to many. For a while, he studied for the ministry where he was defeated by his own intensity. This intensity can be seen, and almost felt, in his paintings. Many critics have implied that it was Van Gogh's irrationality that led him to paint with such intensity, however, irrationality does not accompany the level of control with which he painted. Consider "The Starry Night," and see the care for detail that this master has in every stroke of the brush, culminating in a brilliance that rises far above his own personal struggles. Starry, starry night, paint your palette blue and gray, Look out on a summer’s day with eyes that know the darkness in my soul. Shadows on the hills, sketch the trees and daffodils, Catch the breeze and the winter chills In colors on the snowy linen land. Now, I understand what you tried to say to me, How you suffered for your sanity, How you tried to set them free. They would not listen. They did not know how. Perhaps, they’ll listen now. Starry, starry night, flaming flowers that brightly blaze Swirling clouds in violent haze, reflecting Vincent’s eyes that shine of blue, Colors changing hue, morning fields of amber grain, Weathered faces lined in pain are soothed beneath the artist’s loving hand. Now I understand what you tried to say to me, How you suffered for your sanity, How you tried to set them free. They would not listen. They did not know how. Perhaps, they’ll listen now. For they could not love you but still your love was true. And when no hope was left in sight On that starry, starry night, You took your life as lovers often do. But, I could have told you, Vincent, This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you. Starry, starry night, portraits hung in empty halls, Frameless heads on nameless walls with eyes that watch the world and can’t forget. Like the strangers that you’ve met The ragged men in ragged clothes, The silver thorn, the bloody rose Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow. Now I think I know what you tried to say to me, How you suffered for your sanity How you tried to set them free. They would not listen. They’re not listening still. Perhaps, they never will. pittsfieldcounseling.com