Carousel at Lincoln Center

You can spend the next 2 and 1/2 hours doing anything.
Mine as well spending it elevating and aspiring to new inspiration.

Watch Rodgers & Hammerstein's Carousel on PBS. See more from pbs.

The generation of inspiration

We are the generation of inspiration.
We are the creation of dedication.
We are the makers of what's greatest.
We are the cats at 3 a.m. that keep the moonlight safe.
We are the thunderstorms.
We are the believers that know it won't end this way.
We are the believers that know it won't end.
We are the aging who will never grow old.
We are the views of the sky when that most stars are visible.
We are the meteor showers of modernity.
We are the surprise of history.
We are the excitement in activity.
We are the juxtapose of God's love.
We are the chances worth taking.
We are the shooting stars the come at the right time.
We are the respected of the future.
We are the needle spinning the vinyl.
We are the moustache above the smile.
We are the ink pouring from the fountain.
We are the season of what's better than existence.
We are the indelible ones.
We are the junctures of method.
We are the fourth day of the week.
We are the awakening during a tragic time in the Land of Liberty.
We are the empowerment of hope.
We are the other words for art.

To soulmates!

Inspiration can be contagious

Half decade

A stone cold frosty night
In a sporty yellow tiburon
Carried all my fright
Of a love story: 'Once upon'

A tepid kiss we connected
On high school love-hut stages
Our artistic was reflected
Acting through the summery phases

Of glory in the bright limelight
And learning from writings old
Of striving for 'getting it right'
Always being loved, never feeling sold

But at last we thought we lost
Our blushing pop connection
Yet still, even mirrors looked to us
to find their love reflection.

So know that in your soul,
what we had was more than gold
That someday we'll go out
and ride the rousting Roundabout
For that is what I treasure
Five years from our fifth of November.

The New Century.

For years they believed.
And finally, seeing was believing.
He couldn't time travel to see it
in its heyday. He wished he could.
But he took a mental picture.
Because, someday, someone like him or her
will look back — a century from now
and wonder what those nights
must have been like.
2012.
It was a different world back then.
They had cars on wheels.
And computers.
And the first black president.
And only men and women could marry.
And everyone thought the world
would end in December, because of
an ancient Mayan calendar.
But it was only the beginning.
The new century, the 2000s,
was still in its infancy.
For years before they feared how
art would survive through the
next decade.
But there were no more 'next decades'
It was a new century.
A glistening century.
A time a change.
There were still 88 years left.
Those nights were magic.
Many thought the era in which people
went to theaters died with the last century.
But it didn't.
It was alive.
And it was only the beginning.

Rifuto

Il rifiuto era la vita.
Sentendosi respinto era un altro sentimento.
Se non è stato lanciato nel ruolo che volevo, ho spostato in avanti.
Ma, come ci sviluppiamo più vecchi, perdiamo la nostra insensibilità.
Il rifiuto diventa più difficile.
E ci sentiamo più arrabbiato nei confronti delle persone che ci rifiutano.
Potrei gridare.
Potrei dire il mio pubblico a respingere le persone che mi hanno respinto.
Ho alcun talento?
Potrei essere così male?
Rifiuto indugia nel mio corpo come un veleno che si rifiuta di uccidere me.
Rifiuto fa solo arrabbiare.
Ma invece di combattere di nuovo, invece di far loro del male, farò quello che so solo come fare.
Riprodurre la musica sul mio giradischi.
Indossare gli occhiali da sole.
Scrivi.
Appaiono favoloso.