<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34319198</id><updated>2011-04-22T05:55:41.159+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sir Gawain and The Knights of the Round Table</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thenightingalesrose.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34319198/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thenightingalesrose.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>The Nightingale's Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244067252104597825</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34319198.post-115814467359716911</id><published>2006-09-13T18:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T19:12:50.116+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Poem: Crestfallen</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Silence became her as she heard the news.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;There was evil in the resistance,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;No warmth nor sincerity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Hostility, suspicion and backbiting aplenty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Where is the love?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Could this be what needs acceptance,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Not want for change?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Serenity, that's what she needed,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;To accept the things she could not change.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Alas, wisdom eluded her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Foolish was she not to have known the difference.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Where were the signs?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Were there?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Yes, in retrospect.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Had she heeded and trusted advice,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Woe would not have befallen her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Then her saviour appeared.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;A bubbly voice and cheerful face,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;So bright and shining. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;It lit up her gloomy face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;She saw the face of Christ then.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;He picked her up when she was Crestfallen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34319198-115814467359716911?l=thenightingalesrose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thenightingalesrose.blogspot.com/feeds/115814467359716911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34319198&amp;postID=115814467359716911' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34319198/posts/default/115814467359716911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34319198/posts/default/115814467359716911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thenightingalesrose.blogspot.com/2006/09/poem-crestfallen.html' title='Poem: Crestfallen'/><author><name>The Nightingale's Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244067252104597825</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34319198.post-115813336354962280</id><published>2006-09-13T15:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-13T15:42:43.556+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What I'm currently reading</title><content type='html'>I found two gems amidst the library of books - Sir Gawain &amp;amp; The Green Knight and Oscar Wilde's Stories For Young People. I liked Sir Gawain for it held values of honour and bravery. Sir Gawain had valour and temperance. Men like him today are few and far between. Oscar Wilde's stories hold much wisdom and melancholy. They teach us what it means to really love. Some stories are poignant but inspiring. It has definitely gotten me thinking about what it means to love someone. According to Wilde, to love is to sacrifice and give until it hurts, or as in the stories The Happy Prince and The Nightingale and the Rose, until death. This reminds me of Jesus who gave his life up so that we may have life in its fullness. Yet how many of us are living it to the fullest? Do we spend our lives meaningfully?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34319198-115813336354962280?l=thenightingalesrose.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thenightingalesrose.blogspot.com/feeds/115813336354962280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34319198&amp;postID=115813336354962280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34319198/posts/default/115813336354962280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34319198/posts/default/115813336354962280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thenightingalesrose.blogspot.com/2006/09/what-im-currently-reading.html' title='What I&apos;m currently reading'/><author><name>The Nightingale's Rose</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16244067252104597825</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
