Hiatus interruptus

Herewith it is anounced that I have not moved to my probably last dwelling six feet under, yet.
I felt but the wish to prove myself I could do without internet for at least four weeks, and still happily survive.
"Surprise": It's possible.
Good to know.
Tomorrow, or one of the following days, I shall answer the comments I received since end of April.
And I am looking forward to "visit my friends".
The peace of the night.

Saturday Night Music – Martha Argerich

Martha Argerich *5 June 1941

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (27 January 1756 – 5 December 1791)

Beers & Books LXXXIX – Federico García Lorca

The day we stop resisting our instincts,
we'll have learned how to live.

Federico García Lorca (5 June 1898 – 19 August 1936)

Beers & Books LXXXIII – Philippe Dijan

...

Philippe Dijan * 3 June 1949

Beers & Books LXXXVII – Danielle McLaughlin

Dinosaurs on Other Planets

Danielle McLaughlin

Beers & Books LXXXVI – Zoran Feric

Death of the Little Match Girl

Zoran Ferić * 2 June 1961

Beers & Books LXXXV –Thomas Hardy

Time changes everything
except something within us
which is always surprised by change.

Thomas Hardy (2 June 1840 – 11 January 1928)
 

Saturday Night Music – Joachim Raff

Joachim Raff (27 May 1822 – 24 or 25 June 1882)

Daniel Müller-Schott * 2 November 1976

At The Mid Hour Of Night

At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly
To the lone valley we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye;
And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air
To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there
And tell me our love is remember'd even in the sky!
Then I sing the wild song it was once rapture to hear
When our voices, commingly, breathed like one on the ear;
And as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison rolls, I think,
O my Love! 'tis thy voice, from the Kingdom of Souls
Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear.

Thomas Moore (28 May 1779 – 25 February 1852)

At the Mid Hour of Night

At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly
To the lone valley we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye;
And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air
To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there
And tell me our love is remember'd even in the sky!
Then I sing the wild song 'twas once such pleasure to hear
When our voices, commingly, breathed like one on the ear;
And as Echo far off through the vale my said orison rolls,
I think, O my Love! 'tis thy voice, from the Kingdom of Souls
Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear.

Thomas Moore (28 May 1779 – 25 February 1852)

Beers & Books LXXXIV – Louis Ferdinand Céline

Journey to the End of the Night
*
"The poetry of heroism
appeals irresistibly to those
who don't go to a war,
and even more to those
whom the war is making
enormously wealthy.
It's always so."

Louis Ferdinand Céline (27 May 1894 – 1 July 1961)

Beers & Books LXXXIII – Raymond Carver

Woke up this morning with a terrific urge
to lie in bed all day and read.

Raymond Carver (25 May 1938 – 2 August 1988)

Beers & Books LXXXII – William Trevor

I read hungrily and delightedly,
and have realized since
that you can’t write unless you read.

William Trevor (24 May 1928 – 20 November 2016)