Desire, at the end, was malady, or a madness, or both. I grew careless of the lives of others, I took pleasure where it pleased me, and passed on. I forgot that every little action of the common day makes or unmakes character, and that therefore what one has done in the secret chamber one has someday to cry aloud on the house-tops.
De Profundis, Oscar Wilde

Charlie Chaplin’s beautiful and moving speech on humanity and the fight for a free and united world, from his film The Great Dictator (1940). 

Utterly stunning. Never have his words rang more true than today. Listen and hear!


Alexandre Desplat - Core Ngrato (Ungrateful Heart) Orchestral Version
571 plays

- ‘Core ‘Ngrato’ (‘Ungrateful Heart’), Enrico Caruso (1911 recording) with orchestral accompaniment by Alexandre Desplat, La Fille du Puisatier OST

- Italian tenor Enrico Caruso c.1907

- Italian tenor Enrico Caruso c.1907

One cannot always keep an adder in one’s breast to feed on one, nor rise up every night to sow thorns in the garden of one’s soul.
De Profundis, Wilde
But dreams come through stone walls, light up dark rooms, or darken light ones, and their persons make their exits and their entrances as they please, and laugh at locksmiths.
Carmilla, Sheridan LeFanu
109 plays

- ‘The Funeral’, Frankenweenie OST (2012), Danny Elfman

- Death on a Pale Horse (c.1825-30), Joseph Mallord William Turner

- Death on a Pale Horse (c.1825-30), Joseph Mallord William Turner

Why waste sensation, she seemed to ask, why waste a single drop that can be pressed out of this ripe, this melting, this adorable world?
Between the Acts, Virginia Woolf

We’ll go no more a-roving by the light of the moon.
November glooms are barren beside the dusk of June.
The summer flowers are faded, the summer thoughts are sere.
We’ll go no more a-roving, lest worse befall, my dear.

We’ll go no more a-roving by the light of the moon.
The song we sang rings hollow, and heavy runs the tune.
Glad ways and words remembered would shame the wretched year.
We’ll go no more a-roving, nor dream we did, my dear.

We’ll go no more a-roving by the light of the moon.
If yet we walk together, we need not shun the noon.
No sweet thing left to savour, no sad thing left to fear,
We’ll go no more a-roving, but weep at home, my dear.

'We'll Go No More A-Roving', William Ernest Henley