Bruce Paltrow
Television and film producer Bruce Paltrow (November 26, 1943 - October 3, 2002) was born in Brooklyn, New York and studied at Tulane University in New Orleans, Louisiana. In the late 1960s he began directing stage productions in New York City, where he met actress Blythe Danner, whom he married in 1970.He is probably best known as the producer of the television series The White Shadow[?] and St. Elsewhere[?]. He also worked on the critically-acclaimed Homicide: Life on the Street[?]. His last production was the film Duets[?], which starred his daughter, Oscar-winning actress Gwyneth Paltrow.
Bruce Paltrow died at age 58 while vacationing in Rome to celebrate his daughter's 30th birthday. He had suffered from throat cancer for several years, and his death was apparently due to complications from pneumonia. He is survived by his wife, daughter, and son Jake Paltrow, also an actor.
A faint sweet scent in the unlit gloom.
And this was the worst of all to bear,
KHRISTNA AND HIS FLUTE
Be still, my heart.html">heart.html">heart, and listen,
I hear the wistful music.html">music
Across the cool, blue evenings,
Persuasive and beguiling,
Resistant to its charms,
And cold the husband's arms.
To seek, in vain pursuit,
The sweetness of that flute.html">flute!
In linked and liquid sequence,
Divinely tender secrets
O Khristna, I am coming,
"My heart has flown to join thee,"
The wish is in my mind
And left no leaf behind, -
And made their music mute, -
Of Khristna and his flute.
Laurence Hope [1865-1904]
I would not reck of length of days, nor crave for things to be;
Grant me to see.html">see and touch once more and nothing more to see!
"For, Lord, I was free of all Thy flowers, but I chose the world's sad.html">sad roses,
But at Thy terrible judgment seat, when this my tired life closes,
Give me a grace.html">grace and cast aside the veil of dolorous years,
Her pure and pitiful eyes shine out, and bathe her feet with tears."
Her pitiful hands should calm and her hair stream down.html">down and blind me,
And her eyes should be my light whilst the sun went out behind me,
And Thine anger cleave me through, as a child cuts down a flower,
For the last sad sight of her face and the little grace of an hour.
Ernest Dowson [1867-1900]
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
.
On
wordlookup.net
All is still licensed under the GNU FDL.
It uses material from the wikipedia.
|
|