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Drinking Buddies [Take a Knee]

Cast: Olivia Wilde, Jake Johnson

clip from Drinking Buddies, directed by Joe Swanberg, screenplay by Joe Swanberg (2013)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Handles Bermuda

bean bag spokane
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b ean bags bulk
bean bag toss tailgate games
bella animal print bag
beresford packaging plastic bags
bean bag store toronto
ben sherman messenger bags
bejui bags
beijo bags

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Luggage Canada

b ean bag stoer
bed liner motorcycle bags
bern aby bag
bed in a bag ty pennington
beetle bags roadstar midnight star
bean bag chairs burbank
bedroom in a bag justine
bean bag guns for purchase
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bed in a bag pink paisley
belt bag tool belt
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bean bag stuffing material
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beijo business bags pastel blue
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bean bag chair indigo denim print
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bean bag shells shotgun

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Wilde Angel....Doc Wilde

Wilde Angel the sun that brightens my every day
Wilde Angel the brightest star that lights up my darkest night

Wilde Angel my divine super hero
Wilde Angel chases away the scary monsters from under my bed

Wilde Angel big soft cuddly teady bear
Wilde Angel with outstreched wings ready to break my every fall

Wilde Angel with invisible wings
Wings that lift my spirits
Make them soar high above the heavens

Wilde Angel you graced my life and made it worth living
You heard my thoughts my inner voice
The silent pain
The deafening silence

Wilde Angel your voice sings a lullaby to my heart
Sweeter than any chocolate kiss
Cradles my pain and rocks my world

Wilde Angel your heart brought forth and did lay before me a gift
A gift of friendship unconditional
Lily white and pure

Wilde Angel you wipe away the tears even before they fall
Turning them into pearls of wisdom

Wilde Angel......you are the answer to my every prayer
You are the love, the blind faith, the healing friend my strenght and my joy

You are Doc Wilde......Leila's very own Wilde Angel
Don't ever tuck away those wings Doc.......Love LeilaXXXX

poem by Leila Kay
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Canto the Eighth

I
Oh blood and thunder! and oh blood and wounds!
These are but vulgar oaths, as you may deem,
Too gentle reader! and most shocking sounds:
And so they are; yet thus is Glory's dream
Unriddled, and as my true Muse expounds
At present such things, since they are her theme,
So be they her inspirers! Call them Mars,
Bellona, what you will -- they mean but wars.

II
All was prepared -- the fire, the sword, the men
To wield them in their terrible array.
The army, like a lion from his den,
March'd forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay, --
A human Hydra, issuing from its fen
To breathe destruction on its winding way,
Whose heads were heroes, which cut off in vain
Immediately in others grew again.

III
History can only take things in the gross;
But could we know them in detail, perchance
In balancing the profit and the loss,
War's merit it by no means might enhance,
To waste so much gold for a little dross,
As hath been done, mere conquest to advance.
The drying up a single tear has more
Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore.

IV
And why? -- because it brings self-approbation;
Whereas the other, after all its glare,
Shouts, bridges, arches, pensions from a nation,
Which (it may be) has not much left to spare,
A higher title, or a loftier station,
Though they may make Corruption gape or stare,
Yet, in the end, except in Freedom's battles,
Are nothing but a child of Murder's rattles.

V
And such they are -- and such they will be found:
Not so Leonidas and Washington,
Whose every battle-field is holy ground,
Which breathes of nations saved, not worlds undone.
How sweetly on the ear such echoes sound!
While the mere victor's may appal or stun
The servile and the vain, such names will be
A watchword till the future shall be free.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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Johnson’s Antidote

Down along the Snakebite River, where the overlanders camp,
Where the serpents are in millions, all of the most deadly stamp;
Where the station-cook in terror, nearly every time he bakes,
Mixes up among the doughboys half-a-dozen poison-snakes:
Where the wily free-selector walks in armour-plated pants,
And defies the stings of scorpions, and the bites of bull-dog ants:
Where the adder and the viper tear each other by the throat,—
There it was that William Johnson sought his snake-bite antidote.
Johnson was a free-selector, and his brain went rather queer,
For the constant sight of serpents filled him with a deadly fear;
So he tramped his free-selection, morning, afternoon, and night,
Seeking for some great specific that would cure the serpent’s bite.
Till King Billy, of the Mooki, chieftain of the flour-bag head,
Told him, “Spos’n snake bite pfeller, pfeller mostly drop down dead;
Spos’n snake bite old goanna, then you watch a while you see,
Old goanna cure himself with eating little pfeller tree.”
“That’s the cure,” said William Johnson, “point me out this plant sublime,”
But King Billy, feeling lazy, said he’d go another time.
Thus it came to pass that Johnson, having got the tale by rote,
Followed every stray goanna, seeking for the antidote.

. . . . .
Loafing once beside the river, while he thought his heart would break,
There he saw a big goanna fighting with a tiger-snake,
In and out they rolled and wriggled, bit each other, heart and soul,
Till the valiant old goanna swallowed his opponent whole.
Breathless, Johnson sat and watched him, saw him struggle up the bank,
Saw him nibbling at the branches of some bushes, green and rank;
Saw him, happy and contented, lick his lips, as off he crept,
While the bulging in his stomach showed where his opponent slept.
Then a cheer of exultation burst aloud from Johnson’s throat;
“Luck at last,” said he, “I’ve struck it! ’tis the famous antidote.

“Here it is, the Grand Elixir, greatest blessing ever known,—
Twenty thousand men in India die each year of snakes alone.
Think of all the foreign nations, negro, chow, and blackamoor,
Saved from sudden expiration, by my wondrous snakebite cure.
It will bring me fame and fortune! In the happy days to be,
Men of every clime and nation will be round to gaze on me—
Scientific men in thousands, men of mark and men of note,
Rushing down the Mooki River, after Johnson’s antidote.
It will cure delirium tremens, when the patient’s eyeballs stare
At imaginary spiders, snakes which really are not there.
When he thinks he sees them wriggle, when he thinks he sees them bloat,
It will cure him just to think of Johnson’s Snakebite Antidote.”

Then he rushed to the museum, found a scientific man—
“Trot me out a deadly serpent, just the deadliest you can;
I intend to let him bite me, all the risk I will endure,

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Johnson, alias Crow

Where the seasons are divided and the bush begins to change,
and the links are rather broken in the Great Dividing Range;
where the atmosphere is hazy underneath the summer sky,
lies the little town of Eton, rather westward of Mackay.
Near the township, in the graveyard, where the dead of Eton go,
lies the body of a sinner known as “Johnson alias Crow”.
He was sixty-four was Johnson, and in other days, lang syne,
was apprenticed to a ship-wright in the land across the Rhine;
but, whatever were his prospects in the days of long ago,
things went very bad with Johnson—Heinrich Johnson (alias Crow).
He, at Eton—where he drifted in his age, a stranded wreck—
got three pounds by false pretences, in connection with a cheque.
But he didn’t long enjoy it, the police soon got to know;
and the lockup closed on Johnson, lonely Johnson alias Crow.
Friday night, and Crow retired, feeling, as he said, unwell;
and the warder heard the falling of a body in the cell.
Going in, the warder saw him bent with pain and crouching low—
Death had laid his hand on Johnson, Heinrich Johnson, alias Crow.
Then the constable bent o’er him—asked him where he felt the pain. Johnson only said, “I’m dying”—and he never spoke again.
They had waited for a witness, and the local people say
Johnson’s trial would have ended on that very Saturday;
but he took his case for judgment where our cases all must go,
and the higher court is trying Heinrich Johnson (alias Crow).

poem by Henry Lawson
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Dr Samuel Johnson's Dictionary Masterpiece

June 1746 deeply dissatisfied
with the dictionaries of the period
London booksellers contracted

Dr Samuel Johnson to write
'A Dictionary of the English Language'
15 April 1755 finally published.

Johnson took nine years to create
an authoritative dictionary of the English language
could finish in three years he claimed?

Preposterous Académie Française employed;
in comparison over forty learned scholars
spending needing forty years to complete;

its dictionary in the French language.
Forty Frenchmen times forty years
is not nine but 1600 years to complete.

Miracle miracle Johnson 1591 years defeats.
For what princely sum did Johnson contract
with William Strahan and printer associates;

a preeminent Dictionary in English to complete?
18 June 1746 in historic morning was signed
a project prestigious contact worth 1,500 guineas?

This sum of 1,500 guineas is
in pounds £1,575 equivalent
in 2012 to about £230,000.

A consortium of London's most
successful printers including Robert
Dodsley, Thomas Longman, would

finance a dictionary none could afford;
on such scale to undertake alone, thus was
contracted to be; a meticulous feat of legend.

Twas said 'the world contemplated
with wonder so stupendous a work achieved
by one man, while other countries

had thought such undertakings
fit only for whole academies'.'
OED took writers 70 years to complete.

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Twist It Feat. Lloyd Banks

[Olivia:] I make it hot...
[Lloyd Banks:] G-Unit
[Olivia:] I make it hot
[Lloyd Banks:]
Olivia, let's go
What's up ladies, I'm back baby
The boy wonder got the club goin' crazy
I'm two-steppin' in my armor in my 80
But I ain't in the VIP unless they pay me
It's like I practice stuntin', ma I have ya matress jumpin'
And I know it sounds like I'm frontin', but I ain't
Jerk jerk ya body, and work work 'em proudly, go and hurt somebody if I don't hit that
If you don't see 'em wit me don't ask bout 50
Cuz if he was here he'd be standin' right here
And if you don't care so much about my fame
Then why you keep starin' at my chain? I'm doin' my thing
From the club to the telly on a late night
Box of Magnums sippin' hen, finna get right
Checkout time ain't til daylight
From the club to the telly on a late night
[Olivia:]
Ooh babe you know I like it when you feel on me
Pullin on my waist I'm feelin energy
Gettin' kinda hard to keep ya hands off me (yeah right there)
So slide a little lower put ya hands on my thigh
Maybe I know you like it if that right
I'ma show you how to make it last all night
Now let me see you shake it
[Hook-Olivia]:
Twist it, shake it, bend but don't break it
Work that body gettin' so crazy
Don't hurt nobody up in this party
Twist it, shake it, bend but don't break it
Twist it, shake it, bend but don't break it
Work that body gettin' butt naked
Don't hurt nobody up in this party
Twist it, shake it, bend but don't break it
[Olivia:]
Mix a little hypno with some hennessey
Like the way this jig goes when it goes through me
Think I need to stop because I'm feelin' tipsy (one more drink)
Baby now I can't stop cuz I'm in the zone
Shorty keep it comin' boy I'm grown
I don't wanna finish this dance alone
Ooh I wanna see ya
[Hook-Olivia]:
Twist it, shake it, bend but don't break it
Work that body gettin' so crazy
Don't hurt nobody up in this party
Twist it, shake it, bend but don't break it

[...] Read more

song performed by Olivia
Added by Lucian Velea
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Look Around (feat. Jimmy Cozier)

feat. Jimmy Cozier)
[Verse1: Olivia]
I feel so lost
This emptiness deep inside me
u might as well just stay with her
Did you lay with her?
'Cause whereever you were
You sure ain't thinking 'bout me
I've been spining around
Thinking about our love
And so far you helped me babe oooh
You've been messin' around
And lettin' me down
Simple lies and alibies
If you walk out the door you should..
[Chorus:]
[Chorus1: Olivia]
Just look around
And see that she ain't me
And she'll never be
[Chorus2: Jimmy]
Take a look around
And know that you're lettin' go
The best love you'll ever know
[Verse2: Jimmy]
It's just those simple things
Like Jealosy, houndin' me
Accusing me of things
I never did yea
And Thursday you're so in love
Then Friday comes you flip again
Tell me does the drama ever end?
I've been spinnin' around
Thinking about our love
And so far it's crazy
And you keep on talking about
I'm messing around
I cheated you, mistreated you
There's nothing in the world for you I won't do
[Chorus2: Jimmy]
Take a look around
And know that you're lettin' go
The best love you'll ever know
[Chorus1: Olivia]
Just look around
And see that she ain't me
And she'll never be
[Verse3: Olivia]
Look around
[Jimmy:]

[...] Read more

song performed by Olivia
Added by Lucian Velea
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Look Around Ft. Jimmy Cozier

[Verse1: Olivia]
I feel so lost
This emptiness deep inside me
u might as well just stay with her
Did you lay with her?
'Cause whereever you were
You sure ain't thinking 'bout me
I've been spining around
Thinking about our love
And so far you helped me babe oooh
You've been messin' around
And lettin' me down
Simple lies and alibies
If you walk out the door you should..
[Chorus:]
[Chorus1: Olivia]
Just look around
And see that she ain't me
And she'll never be
[Chorus2: Jimmy]
Take a look around
And know that you're lettin' go
The best love you'll ever know
[Verse2: Jimmy]
It's just those simple things
Like Jealosy, houndin' me
Accusing me of things
I never did yea
And Thursday you're so in love
Then Friday comes you flip again
Tell me does the drama ever end?
I've been spinnin' around
Thinking about our love
And so far it's crazy
And you keep on talking about
I'm messing around
I cheated you, mistreated you
There's nothing in the world for you I won't do
[Chorus2: Jimmy]
Take a look around
And know that you're lettin' go
The best love you'll ever know
[Chorus1: Olivia]
Just look around
And see that she ain't me
And she'll never be
[Verse3: Olivia]
Look around
[Jimmy:]
Look around and realize

[...] Read more

song performed by Olivia
Added by Lucian Velea
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Batman Combats Oscar Wilde

“Are you serious? ” Frederick asked.

“Yes, Oscar Wilde, the writer”, George Batman said. “We had a conversation in the park.”

“Oh”, said Frederick. “Is he not dead? ”

“We had a conversation in the park”, Batman said.

“I see”, said Frederick.

“You remember that in The Picture of Dorian Gray Wilde argues that books cannot be moral or immoral, only well-written or badly written”, Batman commented.

“So? ”

“Well, I disagreed.”

“And why is that? ” Frederick inquired.

“Look. Wilde confuses content with style. A book with a moral message can either fail or excel in its stylistic presentation, and so can a book with immoral content.”

“I see”, said Frederick. “So what happened? ”

“Nothing special”, Batman said. “We continued to argue. I told Oscar that I am not impressed with some of his witty dictums.”

“Oh”, Frederick said. “What did Wilde say? ”

“He wanted to hear examples”, Batman said.

“Did you give him? ”

“Yes, of course. I started with the ‘The truth is rarely pure, and never simple’, from The Importance of Being Earnest.”

“What is wrong with that? ” Frederick asked.

“I told Wilde that his purified statement is self-contradictory because it is so simple that it cannot be true”.

“I see”, Frederick said. “What else? ”

“Well”, said Batman, “I also told him that I disagreed with the aphorism that ‘Women are meant to be loved, not to be understood’. This is a derogatory and false comment on the psychology of women, belittling female intelligence and dignity. Besides, not only that men also want to be loved, but love and understanding can be overlapping as well.”

“What did Wilde say? ”

“I don’t know. He is dead”.

poem by Paul Hartal
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Tom Johnson's Quit

A passel o' the boys last night--
An' me amongst 'em--kindo got
To talkin' Temper'nce left an' right,
An' workin' up 'blue-ribbon,' _hot_;
An' while we was a-countin' jes'
How many bed gone into hit
An' signed the pledge, some feller says,--
'Tom Johnson's quit!'

We laughed, of course--'cause Tom, you know,
_He's_ spiled more whisky, boy an' man,
And seed more trouble, high an' low,
Than any chap but Tom could stand:
And so, says I '_He's_ too nigh dead.
Far Temper'nce to benefit!'
The feller sighed agin, and said--
'Tom Johnson's quit!'

We all _liked_ Tom, an' that was why
We sorto simmered down agin,
And ast the feller ser'ously
Ef he wa'n't tryin' to draw us in:
He shuck his head--tuck off his hat--
Helt up his hand an' opened hit,
An' says, says he, 'I'll _swear_ to that--
Tom Johnson's quit!'

Well, we was stumpt, an' tickled too,--
Because we knowed ef Tom _had_ signed
Ther wa'n't no man 'at wore the 'blue'
'At was more honester inclined:
An' then and there we kindo riz,--
The hull dern gang of us 'at bit--
An' th'owed our hats and let 'er whizz,--
'_Tom Johnson's quit!_'

I've heerd 'em holler when the balls
Was buzzin' 'round us wus 'n bees,
An' when the ole flag on the walls
Was flappin' o'er the enemy's,
I've heerd a-many a wild 'hooray'
'At made my heart git up an' git--
But Lord!--to hear 'em shout that way!--
'_Tom Johnson's quit!_'

But when we saw the chap 'at fetched
The news wa'n't jinin' in the cheer,
But stood there solemn-like, an' reched
An' kindo wiped away a tear,
We someway sorto' stilled agin,

[...] Read more

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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A Woman Is A Sometime Thing

Jake
(to clara)
What, that chile aint asleep yet? give him to me.
Ill fix him for you.
(jake takes the baby from clara)
Lissen to yo daddy warn you,
fore you start a-travelling,
Woman may born you, love you and mourn you,
But a woman is a sometime thing,
Yes, a woman is a sometime thing.
Mingo
Oh, a woman is a sometime thing.
Jake
Yo mammy is the first to name you,
Then shell tie you to her apron string,
Then shell shame you and shell blame you
Till yo woman comes to claim you,
cause a woman is a sometime thing,
Yes, a woman is a sometime thing.
Sporting life
Oh, a woman is a sometime thing.
Jake
Dont you never let a woman grieve you
Jus cause she got yo weddin ring.
Shell love you and deceive you,
Take yo clothes and leave you
cause a woman is a sometime thing.
All
Yes, a woman is a sometime thing.
Yes, a woman is a sometime thing,
Yes, a woman is a sometime thing.
Jake
There now, what I tells you; hes asleep already.
(baby wails)
(men at crap game laugh).

song performed by Ella Fitzgerald
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jake

The boy gets crazy when he's sittin' at the bar
Don't you mess with Jake don't you push him to far
Rot gut whiskey and home made wine
Make a good country boy just lose his mind
Like a run away train rollin' through the night
The boy ain't got no fear
Like a race car hittin' the wall he gets hard to steer
Waitin' for the smoke to clear
OOOOHH
Betty got caught in the back of Bobby's car
Bobby got caught with his hand in the cookie jar
Her daddy blew a fuse and he went for his gun
EEEEE
Now Bobby and Betty thier on the run
Like a run away train rollin' through the nite
Nothin's gonna stop them now
Gotta keep on movin', coverin' tracks somehow
Like a run away train rollin' through the night
The kids ain't got no fear
Daddy's (wizz?) bang is the last sound Bobby's gonna hear
ooohhh
Waitin for the smoke to clear
Daddy finally caught him in the end of his gun
Put a dead end to all of Bobby's fun
OOhh
Good God almighty, Oh heaven sakes
Betty's Daddy turned out to be Jake
Like a run away train rollin' through the nite
Jake ain't got no fear
Know the hangman judge gonna give the boy 99 years
Here sits Jake at the back of this bar
Sippin' on a nice cold beer
If the law had a clue all they'd do is look right here
When they see Jake..... waitin' for the smoke to clear
Waitin for...OOOOHHHAAA

song performed by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Added by Lucian Velea
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Reaping

You want to know what's the matter with me, do yer?
My! ain't men blinder'n moles?
It ain't nothin' new, be sure o' that.
Why, ef you'd had eyes you'd ha' seed
Me changin' under your very nose,
Each day a little diff'rent.
But you never see nothin', you don't.
Don't touch me, Jake,
Don't you dars't to touch me,
I ain't in no humour.
That's what's come over me;
Jest a change clear through.
You lay still, an' I'll tell yer,
I've had it on my mind to tell yer
Fer some time.
It's a strain livin' a lie from mornin' till night,
An' I'm goin' to put an end to it right now.
An' don't make any mistake about one thing,
When I married yer I loved yer.
Why, your voice 'ud make
Me go hot and cold all over,
An' your kisses most stopped my heart from beatin'.
Lord! I was a silly fool.
But that's the way 'twas.
Well, I married yer
An' thought Heav'n was comin'
To set on the door-step.
Heav'n didn't do no settin',
Though the first year warn't so bad.
The baby's fever threw you off some, I guess,
An' then I took her death real hard,
An' a mopey wife kind o' disgusts a man.
I ain't blamin' yer exactly.
But that's how 'twas.
Do lay quiet,
I know I'm slow, but it's harder to say 'n I thought.
There come a time when I got to be
More wife agin than mother.
The mother part was sort of a waste
When we didn't have no other child.
But you'd got used ter lots o' things,
An' you was all took up with the farm.
Many's the time I've laid awake
Watchin' the moon go clear through the elm-tree,
Out o' sight.
I'd foller yer around like a dog,
An' set in the chair you'd be'n settin' in,
Jest to feel its arms around me,
So long's I didn't have yours.
It preyed on me, I guess,

[...] Read more

poem by Amy Lowell
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Physical

Rosie - we're talkin' to women over 35.
Olivia - you do a self-examination.
Rosie - we got another thing to keep you alive, give your boobs a squeeze!
Olivia - a mammogram makes sure that you have healthy breasts.
Rosie - no different than a cold waffle iron...
Olivia - reminds me of having my blue jeans pressed.
Rosie - so make your move and please.
Together - get a physical, physical, call and get a physical. schedule a physical
Get yourself a mammogram, you'll thank us ma'am. get yourself a mammogram.
Olivia - you can do it 'cause your strong. it only hurts for 5 seconds.
Rosie - uh-huh uh-huh uh-huh... whether they're tiny, big, or long, you know what they need.
Olivia - if you feel a marble, a pea, or a flaw, don't be shy just get it checked.
Rosie - be a trend setter, just whip off your bra! start a health stampede!
Together - get a physical, physical! it's time for your physical. don't say
You're to busyical. get yourself a mammogram, thank you ma'am. get yourself
A mammogram!

song performed by Olivia Newton-John
Added by Lucian Velea
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Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Secundus

Incipit Liber Tercius

Ira suis paribus est par furiis Acherontis,
Quo furor ad tempus nil pietatis habet.
Ira malencolicos animos perturbat, vt equo
Iure sui pondus nulla statera tenet.
Omnibus in causis grauat Ira, set inter amantes,
Illa magis facili sorte grauamen agit:
Est vbi vir discors leuiterque repugnat amori,
Sepe loco ludi fletus ad ora venit.

----------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------

If thou the vices lest to knowe,
Mi Sone, it hath noght ben unknowe,
Fro ferst that men the swerdes grounde,
That ther nis on upon this grounde,
A vice forein fro the lawe,
Wherof that many a good felawe
Hath be distraght be sodein chance;
And yit to kinde no plesance
It doth, bot wher he most achieveth
His pourpos, most to kinde he grieveth,
As he which out of conscience
Is enemy to pacience:
And is be name on of the Sevene,
Which ofte hath set this world unevene,
And cleped is the cruel Ire,
Whos herte is everemore on fyre
To speke amis and to do bothe,
For his servantz ben evere wrothe.
Mi goode fader, tell me this:
What thing is Ire? Sone, it is
That in oure englissh Wrathe is hote,
Which hath hise wordes ay so hote,
That all a mannes pacience
Is fyred of the violence.
For he with him hath evere fyve
Servantz that helpen him to stryve:
The ferst of hem Malencolie
Is cleped, which in compaignie
An hundred times in an houre
Wol as an angri beste loure,
And noman wot the cause why.
Mi Sone, schrif thee now forthi:
Hast thou be Malencolien?
Ye, fader, be seint Julien,
Bot I untrewe wordes use,
I mai me noght therof excuse:
And al makth love, wel I wot,

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poem by John Gower
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The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 15

Ac after my wakynge it was wonder longe
Er I koude kyndely knowe what was Dowel.
And so my wit weex and wanyed til I a fool weere;
And some lakked my lif - allowed it fewe -
And leten me for a lorel and looth to reverencen
Lordes or ladies or any lif ellis -
As persons in pelure with pendaunts of silver;
To sergeaunts ne to swiche seide noght ones,
' God loke yow, lordes!' - ne loutede faire,
That folk helden me a fool; and in that folie I raved,
Til reson hadde ruthe on me and rokked me aslepe,
Til I seigh, as it sorcerie were, a sotil thyng withalle -
Oon withouten tonge and teeth, tolde me whider I sholde
And wherof I cam and of what kynde. I conjured hym at the laste,
If he were Cristes creature for Cristes love me to tellen.
' I am Cristes creature,' quod he, 'and Cristene in many a place,
In Cristes court yknowe wel, and of his kyn a party.
Is neither Peter the Porter, ne Poul with the fauchon,
That wole defende me the dore, dynge I never so late.
At mydnyght, at mydday, my vois is so yknowe
That ech a creature of his court welcometh me faire.'
'What are ye called?' quod I, 'in that court among Cristes peple?'
'The whiles I quykne the cors,' quod he, 'called am I Anima;
And whan I wilne and wolde, Animus ich hatte;
And for that I kan and knowe, called am I Mens;
And whan I make mone to God, Memoria is my name;
And whan I deme domes and do as truthe techeth,
Thanne is Racio my righte name - ''reson'' on Englissh;
And whan I feele that folk telleth, my firste name is Sensus -
And that is wit and wisdom, the welle of alle craftes;
And whan I chalange or chalange noght, chepe or refuse,

Thanne am I Conseience ycalled, Goddes clerk and his notarie;
And whan I love leelly Oure Lord and alle othere,
Thanne is ''lele Love'' my name, and in Latyn Amor;
And whan I flee fro the flessh and forsake the careyne,
Thanne am I spirit spechelees - and Spiritus thanne ich hatte.
Austyn and Ysodorus, either of hem bothe
Nempnede me thus to name - now thow myght chese
How thow coveitest to calle me, now thow knowest alle my names.
Anima pro diversis accionibus diversa nomina sortiturdum
vivificat corpus, anima est; dum vult, animus est; dum scit,
mens est; dum recolit, memoria est; dum iudicat, racio est;
dum sentit, sensus est; dum amat, Amor est ; dum negat vel
consentit, consciencia est; dum spirat, spiritus est.'
'Ye ben as a bisshop,' quod I, al bourdynge that tyme,
' For bisshopes yblessed, thei bereth manye names -
Presul and Pontifex and Metropolitanus,
And othere names an heep, Episcopus and Pastor.'
'That is sooth,' seide he, 'now I se thi wille!

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poem by William Langland
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Johnson's Boy

The world is turned ag'in' me,
And people says, 'They guess
That nothin' else is in me
But pure maliciousness!'
I git the blame for doin'
What other chaps destroy,
And I'm a-goin' to ruin
Because I'm 'Johnson's boy.'

THAT ain't my name--I'd ruther
They'd call me IKE or PAT--
But they've forgot the other--
And so have _I_, for that!
I reckon it's as handy,
When Nibsy breaks his toy,
Or some one steals his candy,
To say 'twas 'JOHNSON'S BOY!'

You can't git any water
At the pump, and find the spout
So durn chuck-full o' mortar
That you have to bore it out;
You tackle any scholar
In Wisdom's wise employ,
And I'll bet you half a dollar
He'll say it's 'Johnson's boy!'

Folks don't know how I suffer
In my uncomplainin' way--
They think I'm gittin' tougher
And tougher every day.
Last Sunday night, when Flinder
Was a-shoutin' out for joy,
And some one shook the winder,
He prayed for 'Johnson's boy.'

I'm tired of bein' follered
By farmers every day,
And then o' bein' collared
For coaxin' hounds away;
Hounds always plays me double--
It's a trick they all enjoy--
To git me into trouble,
Because I'm 'Johnson's boy.'

But if I git to Heaven,
I hope the Lord'll see
SOME boy has been perfect,
And lay it on to me;
I'll swell the song sonorous,

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poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Jake Green isn't just Jake Green. Jake represents all of us. The colour green is the central column of the spectrum and the name Jake has all sorts of numerical values. All things come back to him within the film's world of cons and games.

quote by Guy Ritchie
Added by Lucian Velea
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