“If high stream of dreams and truth be told
and our intentions be entwined
then from these high flung tower walls
let healing grace and blessings fall
over all this cracked and broken land
from northern crag to southern down
from Universal Hall to Camden town
from city square to village green
from parliament to housing scheme
from Iona to the the Hill of Dreams
I sacrifice my power on the altar of your love
that it may be born again on another world.”

— Mike Scott

"Universal Hall" (co-written with Steve Wickham)
Universal Hall (2003)

Adopted from Wikiquote. Last update June 3, 2021. History

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Mike Scott 41

songwriter, musician 1958

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“I sacrifice my power on the altar of your love
that it may be born again on another world.”

Mike Scott (1958) songwriter, musician

"Universal Hall" (co-written with Steve Wickham)
Universal Hall (2003)
Context: I sacrifice my power on the altar of your love
that it may be born again on another world.
Come friend, let us climb the winding flights of stairs
through the narrow door into the chamber bare
a single candle burns as we seat ourselves
words take form in our minds and repeat themselves :
"My beloved and I are one…"

“From high black walls, gleaming vaguely with rain,
Each yellow light looked down like a golden eye.
They trembled from coign to coign, and tower to tower,
Along high terraces quicker than dream they flew.
And some of them steadily glowed, and some soon vanished,
And some strange shadows threw.”

Conrad Aiken (1889–1973) American novelist and poet

The House of Dust (1916 - 1917)

“A fall from the third floor hurts as much as a fall from the hundredth. If I have to fall, may it be from a high place.”

Paulo Coelho (1947) Brazilian lyricist and novelist

“This is the day, which down the void abysm
At the Earth-born’s spell yawns for Heaven’s despotism
And Conquest is dragged captive through the deep:
Love, from its awful throne of patient power
In the wise heart, from the last giddy hour
Of dread endurance, from the slippery, steep,
And narrow verge of crag-like agony, springs
And folds over the world its healing wings.”

Percy Bysshe Shelley Prometheus Unbound

Demogorgon, Act IV, l. 554–561
Prometheus Unbound (1818–1819; publ. 1820)

“If I must fall, may it be from a high place.”

Paulo Coelho book By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept

Source: By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept

“Across the silent stream
Where the dream-shadows go,
From the dim blue Hill of Dream
I have heard the west wind blow.”

William Sharp (writer) (1855–1905) Scottish writer

From the Hills of Dream, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).

“Your highness is forgetting that I see as clearly in your heart what is going on now as I saw your carriage coming from the Carmelite convent, traversing the town and stopping under the trees fifty paces off from my house.”

Alessandro Cagliostro (1743–1795) Italian occultist

Balsamo the Magician (or The Memoirs of a Physician) by Alex. Dumas (1891)

“There, in the high bright window he dreams, and sees
What we are blind to,—we who mass and crowd
From wall to wall in the darkening of a cloud.”

Conrad Aiken (1889–1973) American novelist and poet

The House of Dust (1916 - 1917)

“It is from their foes, not their friends, that cities learn the lesson of building high walls and ships of war.”

Aristophanés The Birds

Birds (414 BC)
Context: Epops: You're mistaken: men of sense often learn from their enemies. Prudence is the best safeguard. This principle cannot be learned from a friend, but an enemy extorts it immediately. It is from their foes, not their friends, that cities learn the lesson of building high walls and ships of war. And this lesson saves their children, their homes, and their properties.
Chorus [leader]: It appears then that it will be better for us to hear what they have to say first; for one may learn something at times even from one's enemies.
(tr. Anon. 1812 rev. in Ramage 1864, p. 45 http://books.google.com/books?id=AoUCAAAAQAAJ&pg;=PA45)

“Over the darkened city, the city of towers,
The city of a thousand gates,
Over the gleaming terraced roofs, the huddled towers,
Over a somnolent whisper of loves and hates,
The slow wind flows, drearily streams and falls,
With a mournful sound down rain-dark walls.”

Conrad Aiken (1889–1973) American novelist and poet

The House of Dust (1916 - 1917)

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