Архива за 'English' категорију
Upon upgrade of my debian machine on which the websites are running i figured that Typo doesnt really work well. After short investigation, i figured that the version of Typo that I was using failed due to the fact that my machine now has rails1.1 on which Typo doesn’t work.
Ok, no problem – I downloaded the latest Typo and replaced the code and everything. I first tried to upgrade the DB schema using the Typo upgrade manager (during configuration) but that was failing constantly. Instead, I dumped the db and went on with a clean db. After initial configuration of Typo (as you can see, it now works), I tried to restore the db contents from the previous installation – you can figure out yourself the result. :(
I will try to restore the previous articles as soon as possible. In the meantime, I will move on, like nothing happened.
What better way to start up this category than with a poem dedicated to my love of my life, Ingibjorg.
She Walks In BeautyShe walks in Beauty, like the night Or cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meat in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellowed to that tender light Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o’er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express, How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!
by George Gordon Lord Byron.
I love you, baby.
What better way to start up this category than with a poem dedicated to my love of my life, Ingibjorg.
She Walks In BeautyShe walks in Beauty, like the night Or cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meat in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellowed to that tender light Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o’er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express, How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!
by George Gordon Lord Byron.
I love you, baby.