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The fact of the matter is right now politicians and insurance companies are making decisions. We're saying we want doctors to be making decisions. And I think that will lead to a higher-quality, lower-cost system over time.

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The Magic in Right Now

I'd pray for tomorrow,
if I thought that it'd be better
I'd wish for yesterday,
if I thought that it could measure
But I don't want to lose the magic in right now.
in this moment, in this time,
the glitter of hope
and the beauty of the rhyme
the feeling of amusement
and the wonder of it all,
there's a magic in right now.

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Whats The Matter Here

[ robert buck/natalie merchant ]
That young boy without a name Id know his face.
In this city the kids my favorite.
Ive seen him. I see him every day.
Seen him run outside looking for a place to hide from his father,
The kid half naked and said to myself o, whats the matter here?
Im tired of the excuses everbody uses, hes their kid I stay out of it,
But who gave you the right to do this?
We live on morgan street;
Just ten feet between and his mother, I never see her,
But her screams and cussing, I hear them every day.
Threats like: if you dont mind I will beat on your behind,
Slap you, slap you silly.
Made me say, o, whats the matter here?
Im tired of the excuses everybody uses, hes your kid, do as you see fit,
But get this through that I dont approve of what you did to you own flesh and blood.
If you dont sit on this chair straight
Ill take this belt from around my waist and dont think that I wont use it!
Answer me and take your time,
What could be the awful crime he could do at such young an age?
If Im the only witness to your madness offer me some words to balance out what I see and what I hear.
All these cold and rude things that you do I suppose you do because he belongs to you
And instead of love, the feel of warmth youve given him these cuts and sores wont heal with time or age.
I want to say whats the matter here?
But I dont dare say.

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The Heart Of The Matter

Real love is the only thing I know
Teh changes of everything at touches
It gets you and its gentle clutches
But thats not really the heart of the matter
Everbody, every now and then
Well say that they can use
Some side of two
Even though youre setting
Kind of roam
Thats not really the heart of the matter
I think Im really the heart of the matter
Isnt it natural going away to think Ill be alone
I think of you
Your love for me is gone
I think thats really the heart of the matter after all
Darling, I know every now and then
Some nights I lay really easy on my mind
You might hold your billow in my cry
Thats not the heart of the matter

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Till The Wind Gets Right

OH the breeze is blowin' balmy
And the sun is in a haze;
There's a cloud jest givin' coolness,
To the laziest of days.
There are crowds upon the lakeside,
But the fish refuse to bite,
So I'll wait and go a-fishin'
When the wind gets right.
Now my boat tugs at her anchor,
Eager now to kiss the spray,
While the little waves are callin'
Drowsy sailor come away,
There's a harbor for the happy,
And its sheen is just in sight,
But I won't set sail to get there,
Till the wind gets right.
That's my trouble, too, I reckon,
I've been waitin' all too long,
Tho' the days were always
Still the wind is always wrong.
An' when Gabriel blows his trumpet,
In the day o' in the night,
I will still be found waitin',
Till the wind gets right.

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The pain goes right through me

The pain goes right through me
when I find Tinkie smashed,
lying with popped out eyes,
in blood on her side.

Still this morning she played and barked
and impertinent, undaunted and somewhat silly
jumped up and down in front of the other dogs
and now I dig her grave.

The pain goes right through me
and my small white dog is gone and smashed by a car
and taken from life
and my head and hart burn while she stays in a hole.

I wonder if my small innocent dog child
also will find a paradise on the other side
and the pain doesn’t want to disappear while the sun hangs bright in the sky
and I strike my despair up to the heavens and I am dumb, and bend and blind
as I cannot comprehend the deed from up high to allow it.

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The Odyssey: Book 24

Then Mercury of Cyllene summoned the ghosts of the suitors, and in
his hand he held the fair golden wand with which he seals men's eyes
in sleep or wakes them just as he pleases; with this he roused the
ghosts and led them, while they followed whining and gibbering
behind him. As bats fly squealing in the hollow of some great cave,
when one of them has fallen out of the cluster in which they hang,
even so did the ghosts whine and squeal as Mercury the healer of
sorrow led them down into the dark abode of death. When they had
passed the waters of Oceanus and the rock Leucas, they came to the
gates of the sun and the land of dreams, whereon they reached the
meadow of asphodel where dwell the souls and shadows of them that
can labour no more.
Here they found the ghost of Achilles son of Peleus, with those of
Patroclus, Antilochus, and Ajax, who was the finest and handsomest man
of all the Danaans after the son of Peleus himself.
They gathered round the ghost of the son of Peleus, and the ghost of
Agamemnon joined them, sorrowing bitterly. Round him were gathered
also the ghosts of those who had perished with him in the house of
Aeisthus; and the ghost of Achilles spoke first.
"Son of Atreus," it said, "we used to say that Jove had loved you
better from first to last than any other hero, for you were captain
over many and brave men, when we were all fighting together before
Troy; yet the hand of death, which no mortal can escape, was laid upon
you all too early. Better for you had you fallen at Troy in the
hey-day of your renown, for the Achaeans would have built a mound over
your ashes, and your son would have been heir to your good name,
whereas it has now been your lot to come to a most miserable end."
"Happy son of Peleus," answered the ghost of Agamemnon, "for
having died at Troy far from Argos, while the bravest of the Trojans
and the Achaeans fell round you fighting for your body. There you
lay in the whirling clouds of dust, all huge and hugely, heedless
now of your chivalry. We fought the whole of the livelong day, nor
should we ever have left off if Jove had not sent a hurricane to
stay us. Then, when we had borne you to the ships out of the fray,
we laid you on your bed and cleansed your fair skin with warm water
and with ointments. The Danaans tore their hair and wept bitterly
round about you. Your mother, when she heard, came with her immortal
nymphs from out of the sea, and the sound of a great wailing went
forth over the waters so that the Achaeans quaked for fear. They would
have fled panic-stricken to their ships had not wise old Nestor
whose counsel was ever truest checked them saying, 'Hold, Argives, fly
not sons of the Achaeans, this is his mother coming from the sea
with her immortal nymphs to view the body of her son.'
"Thus he spoke, and the Achaeans feared no more. The daughters of
the old man of the sea stood round you weeping bitterly, and clothed
you in immortal raiment. The nine muses also came and lifted up
their sweet voices in lament- calling and answering one another; there
was not an Argive but wept for pity of the dirge they chaunted. Days
and nights seven and ten we mourned you, mortals and immortals, but on
the eighteenth day we gave you to the flames, and many a fat sheep
with many an ox did we slay in sacrifice around you. You were burnt in
raiment of the gods, with rich resins and with honey, while heroes,
horse and foot, clashed their armour round the pile as you were
burning, with the tramp as of a great multitude. But when the flames
of heaven had done their work, we gathered your white bones at
daybreak and laid them in ointments and in pure wine. Your mother
brought us a golden vase to hold them- gift of Bacchus, and work of
Vulcan himself; in this we mingled your bleached bones with those of
Patroclus who had gone before you, and separate we enclosed also those
of Antilochus, who had been closer to you than any other of your
comrades now that Patroclus was no more.
"Over these the host of the Argives built a noble tomb, on a point
jutting out over the open Hellespont, that it might be seen from far
out upon the sea by those now living and by them that shall be born
hereafter. Your mother begged prizes from the gods, and offered them
to be contended for by the noblest of the Achaeans. You must have been
present at the funeral of many a hero, when the young men gird
themselves and make ready to contend for prizes on the death of some
great chieftain, but you never saw such prizes as silver-footed Thetis
offered in your honour; for the gods loved you well. Thus even in
death your fame, Achilles, has not been lost, and your name lives
evermore among all mankind. But as for me, what solace had I when
the days of my fighting were done? For Jove willed my destruction on
my return, by the hands of Aegisthus and those of my wicked wife."
Thus did they converse, and presently Mercury came up to them with
the ghosts of the suitors who had been killed by Ulysses. The ghosts
of Agamemnon and Achilles were astonished at seeing them, and went
up to them at once. The ghost of Agamemnon recognized Amphimedon son
of Melaneus, who lived in Ithaca and had been his host, so it began to
talk to him.
"Amphimedon," it said, "what has happened to all you fine young men-
all of an age too- that you are come down here under the ground? One
could pick no finer body of men from any city. Did Neptune raise his
winds and waves against you when you were at sea, or did your
enemies make an end of you on the mainland when you were
cattle-lifting or sheep-stealing, or while fighting in defence of
their wives and city? Answer my question, for I have been your
guest. Do you not remember how I came to your house with Menelaus,
to persuade Ulysses to join us with his ships against Troy? It was a
whole month ere we could resume our voyage, for we had hard work to
persuade Ulysses to come with us."
And the ghost of Amphimedon answered, "Agamemnon, son of Atreus,
king of men, I remember everything that you have said, and will tell
you fully and accurately about the way in which our end was brought
about. Ulysses had been long gone, and we were courting his wife,
who did not say point blank that she would not marry, nor yet bring
matters to an end, for she meant to compass our destruction: this,
then, was the trick she played us. She set up a great tambour frame in
her room and began to work on an enormous piece of fine needlework.
'Sweethearts,' said she, 'Ulysses is indeed dead, still, do not
press me to marry again immediately; wait- for I would not have my
skill in needlework perish unrecorded- till I have completed a pall
for the hero Laertes, against the time when death shall take him. He
is very rich, and the women of the place will talk if he is laid out
without a pall.' This is what she said, and we assented; whereupon
we could see her working upon her great web all day long, but at night
she would unpick the stitches again by torchlight. She fooled us in
this way for three years without our finding it out, but as time
wore on and she was now in her fourth year, in the waning of moons and
many days had been accomplished, one of her maids who knew what she
was doing told us, and we caught her in the act of undoing her work,
so she had to finish it whether she would or no; and when she showed
us the robe she had made, after she had had it washed, its splendour
was as that of the sun or moon.
"Then some malicious god conveyed Ulysses to the upland farm where
his swineherd lives. Thither presently came also his son, returning
from a voyage to Pylos, and the two came to the town when they had
hatched their plot for our destruction. Telemachus came first, and
then after him, accompanied by the swineherd, came Ulysses, clad in
rags and leaning on a staff as though he were some miserable old
beggar. He came so unexpectedly that none of us knew him, not even the
older ones among us, and we reviled him and threw things at him. He
endured both being struck and insulted without a word, though he was
in his own house; but when the will of Aegis-bearing Jove inspired
him, he and Telemachus took the armour and hid it in an inner chamber,
bolting the doors behind them. Then he cunningly made his wife offer
his bow and a quantity of iron to be contended for by us ill-fated
suitors; and this was the beginning of our end, for not one of us
could string the bow- nor nearly do so. When it was about to reach the
hands of Ulysses, we all of us shouted out that it should not be given
him, no matter what he might say, but Telemachus insisted on his
having it. When he had got it in his hands he strung it with ease
and sent his arrow through the iron. Then he stood on the floor of the
cloister and poured his arrows on the ground, glaring fiercely about
him. First he killed Antinous, and then, aiming straight before him,
he let fly his deadly darts and they fell thick on one another. It was
plain that some one of the gods was helping them, for they fell upon
us with might and main throughout the cloisters, and there was a
hideous sound of groaning as our brains were being battered in, and
the ground seethed with our blood. This, Agamemnon, is how we came
by our end, and our bodies are lying still un-cared for in the house
of Ulysses, for our friends at home do not yet know what has happened,
so that they cannot lay us out and wash the black blood from our
wounds, making moan over us according to the offices due to the
"Happy Ulysses, son of Laertes," replied the ghost of Agamemnon,
"you are indeed blessed in the possession of a wife endowed with
such rare excellence of understanding, and so faithful to her wedded
lord as Penelope the daughter of Icarius. The fame, therefore, of
her virtue shall never die, and the immortals shall compose a song
that shall be welcome to all mankind in honour of the constancy of
Penelope. How far otherwise was the wickedness of the daughter of
Tyndareus who killed her lawful husband; her song shall be hateful
among men, for she has brought disgrace on all womankind even on the
good ones."
Thus did they converse in the house of Hades deep down within the
bowels of the earth. Meanwhile Ulysses and the others passed out of
the town and soon reached the fair and well-tilled farm of Laertes,
which he had reclaimed with infinite labour. Here was his house,
with a lean-to running all round it, where the slaves who worked for
him slept and sat and ate, while inside the house there was an old
Sicel woman, who looked after him in this his country-farm. When
Ulysses got there, he said to his son and to the other two:
"Go to the house, and kill the best pig that you can find for
dinner. Meanwhile I want to see whether my father will know me, or
fail to recognize me after so long an absence."
He then took off his armour and gave it to Eumaeus and Philoetius,
who went straight on to the house, while he turned off into the
vineyard to make trial of his father. As he went down into the great
orchard, he did not see Dolius, nor any of his sons nor of the other
bondsmen, for they were all gathering thorns to make a fence for the
vineyard, at the place where the old man had told them; he therefore
found his father alone, hoeing a vine. He had on a dirty old shirt,
patched and very shabby; his legs were bound round with thongs of
oxhide to save him from the brambles, and he also wore sleeves of
leather; he had a goat skin cap on his head, and was looking very
woe-begone. When Ulysses saw him so worn, so old and full of sorrow,
he stood still under a tall pear tree and began to weep. He doubted
whether to embrace him, kiss him, and tell him all about his having
come home, or whether he should first question him and see what he
would say. In the end he deemed it best to be crafty with him, so in
this mind he went up to his father, who was bending down and digging
about a plant.
"I see, sir," said Ulysses, "that you are an excellent gardener-
what pains you take with it, to be sure. There is not a single
plant, not a fig tree, vine, olive, pear, nor flower bed, but bears
the trace of your attention. I trust, however, that you will not be
offended if I say that you take better care of your garden than of
yourself. You are old, unsavoury, and very meanly clad. It cannot be
because you are idle that your master takes such poor care of you,
indeed your face and figure have nothing of the slave about them,
and proclaim you of noble birth. I should have said that you were
one of those who should wash well, eat well, and lie soft at night
as old men have a right to do; but tell me, and tell me true, whose
bondman are you, and in whose garden are you working? Tell me also
about another matter. Is this place that I have come to really Ithaca?
I met a man just now who said so, but he was a dull fellow, and had
not the patience to hear my story out when I was asking him about an
old friend of mine, whether he was still living, or was already dead
and in the house of Hades. Believe me when I tell you that this man
came to my house once when I was in my own country and never yet did
any stranger come to me whom I liked better. He said that his family
came from Ithaca and that his father was Laertes, son of Arceisius.
I received him hospitably, making him welcome to all the abundance
of my house, and when he went away I gave him all customary
presents. I gave him seven talents of fine gold, and a cup of solid
silver with flowers chased upon it. I gave him twelve light cloaks,
and as many pieces of tapestry; I also gave him twelve cloaks of
single fold, twelve rugs, twelve fair mantles, and an equal number
of shirts. To all this I added four good looking women skilled in
all useful arts, and I let him take his choice."
His father shed tears and answered, "Sir, you have indeed come to
the country that you have named, but it is fallen into the hands of
wicked people. All this wealth of presents has been given to no
purpose. If you could have found your friend here alive in Ithaca,
he would have entertained you hospitably and would have required
your presents amply when you left him- as would have been only right
considering what you have already given him. But tell me, and tell
me true, how many years is it since you entertained this guest- my
unhappy son, as ever was? Alas! He has perished far from his own
country; the fishes of the sea have eaten him, or he has fallen a prey
to the birds and wild beasts of some continent. Neither his mother,
nor I his father, who were his parents, could throw our arms about him
and wrap him in his shroud, nor could his excellent and richly dowered
wife Penelope bewail her husband as was natural upon his death bed,
and close his eyes according to the offices due to the departed. But
now, tell me truly for I want to know. Who and whence are you- tell me
of your town and parents? Where is the ship lying that has brought you
and your men to Ithaca? Or were you a passenger on some other man's
ship, and those who brought you here have gone on their way and left
"I will tell you everything," answered Ulysses, "quite truly. I come
from Alybas, where I have a fine house. I am son of king Apheidas, who
is the son of Polypemon. My own name is Eperitus; heaven drove me
off my course as I was leaving Sicania, and I have been carried here
against my will. As for my ship it is lying over yonder, off the
open country outside the town, and this is the fifth year since
Ulysses left my country. Poor fellow, yet the omens were good for
him when he left me. The birds all flew on our right hands, and both
he and I rejoiced to see them as we parted, for we had every hope that
we should have another friendly meeting and exchange presents."
A dark cloud of sorrow fell upon Laertes as he listened. He filled
both hands with the dust from off the ground and poured it over his
grey head, groaning heavily as he did so. The heart of Ulysses was
touched, and his nostrils quivered as he looked upon his father;
then he sprang towards him, flung his arms about him and kissed him,
saying, "I am he, father, about whom you are asking- I have returned
after having been away for twenty years. But cease your sighing and
lamentation- we have no time to lose, for I should tell you that I
have been killing the suitors in my house, to punish them for their
insolence and crimes."
"If you really are my son Ulysses," replied Laertes, "and have
come back again, you must give me such manifest proof of your identity
as shall convince me."
"First observe this scar," answered Ulysses, "which I got from a
boar's tusk when I was hunting on Mount Parnassus. You and my mother
had sent me to Autolycus, my mother's father, to receive the
presents which when he was over here he had promised to give me.
Furthermore I will point out to you the trees in the vineyard which
you gave me, and I asked you all about them as I followed you round
the garden. We went over them all, and you told me their names and
what they all were. You gave me thirteen pear trees, ten apple
trees, and forty fig trees; you also said you would give me fifty rows
of vines; there was corn planted between each row, and they yield
grapes of every kind when the heat of heaven has been laid heavy
upon them."
Laertes' strength failed him when he heard the convincing proofs
which his son had given him. He threw his arms about him, and
Ulysses had to support him, or he would have gone off into a swoon;
but as soon as he came to, and was beginning to recover his senses, he
said, "O father Jove, then you gods are still in Olympus after all, if
the suitors have really been punished for their insolence and folly.
Nevertheless, I am much afraid that I shall have all the townspeople
of Ithaca up here directly, and they will be sending messengers
everywhere throughout the cities of the Cephallenians."
Ulysses answered, "Take heart and do not trouble yourself about
that, but let us go into the house hard by your garden. I have already
told Telemachus, Philoetius, and Eumaeus to go on there and get dinner
ready as soon as possible."
Thus conversing the two made their way towards the house. When
they got there they found Telemachus with the stockman and the
swineherd cutting up meat and mixing wine with water. Then the old
Sicel woman took Laertes inside and washed him and anointed him with
oil. She put him on a good cloak, and Minerva came up to him and
gave him a more imposing presence, making him taller and stouter
than before. When he came back his son was surprised to see him
looking so like an immortal, and said to him, "My dear father, some
one of the gods has been making you much taller and better-looking."
Laertes answered, "Would, by Father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo,
that I were the man I was when I ruled among the Cephallenians, and
took Nericum, that strong fortress on the foreland. If I were still
what I then was and had been in our house yesterday with my armour on,
I should have been able to stand by you and help you against the
suitors. I should have killed a great many of them, and you would have
rejoiced to see it."
Thus did they converse; but the others, when they had finished their
work and the feast was ready, left off working, and took each his
proper place on the benches and seats. Then they began eating; by
and by old Dolius and his sons left their work and came up, for
their mother, the Sicel woman who looked after Laertes now that he was
growing old, had been to fetch them. When they saw Ulysses and were
certain it was he, they stood there lost in astonishment; but
Ulysses scolded them good-naturedly and said, "Sit down to your
dinner, old man, and never mind about your surprise; we have been
wanting to begin for some time and have been waiting for you."
Then Dolius put out both his hands and went up to Ulysses. "Sir,"
said he, seizing his master's hand and kissing it at the wrist, "we
have long been wishing you home: and now heaven has restored you to us
after we had given up hoping. All hail, therefore, and may the gods
prosper you. But tell me, does Penelope already know of your return,
or shall we send some one to tell her?"
"Old man," answered Ulysses, "she knows already, so you need not
trouble about that." On this he took his seat, and the sons of
Dolius gathered round Ulysses to give him greeting and embrace him one
after the other; then they took their seats in due order near Dolius
their father.
While they were thus busy getting their dinner ready, Rumour went
round the town, and noised abroad the terrible fate that had
befallen the suitors; as soon, therefore, as the people heard of it
they gathered from every quarter, groaning and hooting before the
house of Ulysses. They took the dead away, buried every man his own,
and put the bodies of those who came from elsewhere on board the
fishing vessels, for the fishermen to take each of them to his own
place. They then met angrily in the place of assembly, and when they
were got together Eupeithes rose to speak. He was overwhelmed with
grief for the death of his son Antinous, who had been the first man
killed by Ulysses, so he said, weeping bitterly, "My friend, this
man has done the Achaeans great wrong. He took many of our best men
away with him in his fleet, and he has lost both ships and men; now,
moreover, on his return he has been killing all the foremost men among
the Cephallenians. Let us be up and doing before he can get away to
Pylos or to Elis where the Epeans rule, or we shall be ashamed of
ourselves for ever afterwards. It will be an everlasting disgrace to
us if we do not avenge the murder of our sons and brothers. For my own
part I should have no mote pleasure in life, but had rather die at
once. Let us be up, then, and after them, before they can cross over
to the mainland."
He wept as he spoke and every one pitied him. But Medon and the bard
Phemius had now woke up, and came to them from the house of Ulysses.
Every one was astonished at seeing them, but they stood in the
middle of the assembly, and Medon said, "Hear me, men of Ithaca.
Ulysses did not do these things against the will of heaven. I myself
saw an immortal god take the form of Mentor and stand beside him. This
god appeared, now in front of him encouraging him, and now going
furiously about the court and attacking the suitors whereon they
fell thick on one another."
On this pale fear laid hold of them, and old Halitherses, son of
Mastor, rose to speak, for he was the only man among them who knew
both past and future; so he spoke to them plainly and in all
honesty, saying,
"Men of Ithaca, it is all your own fault that things have turned out
as they have; you would not listen to me, nor yet to Mentor, when we
bade you check the folly of your sons who were doing much wrong in the
wantonness of their hearts- wasting the substance and dishonouring the
wife of a chieftain who they thought would not return. Now, however,
let it be as I say, and do as I tell you. Do not go out against
Ulysses, or you may find that you have been drawing down evil on
your own heads."
This was what he said, and more than half raised a loud shout, and
at once left the assembly. But the rest stayed where they were, for
the speech of Halitherses displeased them, and they sided with
Eupeithes; they therefore hurried off for their armour, and when
they had armed themselves, they met together in front of the city, and
Eupeithes led them on in their folly. He thought he was going to
avenge the murder of his son, whereas in truth he was never to return,
but was himself to perish in his attempt.
Then Minerva said to Jove, "Father, son of Saturn, king of kings,
answer me this question- What do you propose to do? Will you set
them fighting still further, or will you make peace between them?"
And Jove answered, "My child, why should you ask me? Was it not by
your own arrangement that Ulysses came home and took his revenge
upon the suitors? Do whatever you like, but I will tell you what I
think will be most reasonable arrangement. Now that Ulysses is
revenged, let them swear to a solemn covenant, in virtue of which he
shall continue to rule, while we cause the others to forgive and
forget the massacre of their sons and brothers. Let them then all
become friends as heretofore, and let peace and plenty reign."
This was what Minerva was already eager to bring about, so down
she darted from off the topmost summits of Olympus.
Now when Laertes and the others had done dinner, Ulysses began by
saying, "Some of you go out and see if they are not getting close up
to us." So one of Dolius's sons went as he was bid. Standing on the
threshold he could see them all quite near, and said to Ulysses, "Here
they are, let us put on our armour at once."
They put on their armour as fast as they could- that is to say
Ulysses, his three men, and the six sons of Dolius. Laertes also and
Dolius did the same- warriors by necessity in spite of their grey
hair. When they had all put on their armour, they opened the gate
and sallied forth, Ulysses leading the way.
Then Jove's daughter Minerva came up to them, having assumed the
form and voice of Mentor. Ulysses was glad when he saw her, and said
to his son Telemachus, "Telemachus, now that are about to fight in
an engagement, which will show every man's mettle, be sure not to
disgrace your ancestors, who were eminent for their strength and
courage all the world over."
"You say truly, my dear father," answered Telemachus, "and you shall
see, if you will, that I am in no mind to disgrace your family."
Laertes was delighted when he heard this. "Good heavens, he
exclaimed, "what a day I am enjoying: I do indeed rejoice at it. My
son and grandson are vying with one another in the matter of valour."
On this Minerva came close up to him and said, "Son of Arceisius-
best friend I have in the world- pray to the blue-eyed damsel, and
to Jove her father; then poise your spear and hurl it."
As she spoke she infused fresh vigour into him, and when he had
prayed to her he poised his spear and hurled it. He hit Eupeithes'
helmet, and the spear went right through it, for the helmet stayed
it not, and his armour rang rattling round him as he fell heavily to
the ground. Meantime Ulysses and his son fell the front line of the
foe and smote them with their swords and spears; indeed, they would
have killed every one of them, and prevented them from ever getting
home again, only Minerva raised her voice aloud, and made every one
pause. "Men of Ithaca," she cried, cease this dreadful war, and settle
the matter at once without further bloodshed."
On this pale fear seized every one; they were so frightened that
their arms dropped from their hands and fell upon the ground at the
sound of the goddess's voice, and they fled back to the city for their
lives. But Ulysses gave a great cry, and gathering himself together
swooped down like a soaring eagle. Then the son of Saturn sent a
thunderbolt of fire that fell just in front of Minerva, so she said to
Ulysses, "Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, stop this warful strife, or
Jove will be angry with you."
Thus spoke Minerva, and Ulysses obeyed her gladly. Then Minerva
assumed the form and voice of Mentor, and presently made a covenant of
peace between the two contending parties.

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Right Now

Makin it real that I want it
Is makin you see that you know what I need
Your breakin the rules cos you want it
There's so much - you can do - that will make me see that

Makin the love that adore you (baby)
Is makin the most of the way that I feel
I'm taken a chance movin for ya
Cos when you touch - me I just - can't believe that it's real

So come on baby do it to me good now
Do it to me slowly (oh yeah)
Be the one and only (oh'oh yeah)
And do it to me right now (baby

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The three is growing now

From another land
From another aid of a hand
Where dry seasons is like fall
Where the bushes are green and tall
The tree is growing now

Into the sea and out of the sunset
Where great tides are known to set
Where the wind blow as hard and cold
I see no rain, or loam of soil to call gold
But the tree is growing now

Fro and to the blue of the cloud
Where the storm is as loud
The heart weeps and sleeps as fair
The children are as timid as au pair
But the tree is growing now

Into the cemetery and out of the ground
Where the death is as lavish as soothing sound
The lost is moaned, and the living is brave
The woman is running to ease her grave
But the tree is growing now

From the birth of a child
Where he play his part as mild
The world was sweet as a lime
And the years, days, with all the time
But the tree is still growing now

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Into The Sun

Too late for the other's mistakes
Sit down laugh thinking what have we done
Let me inside
Is it all over before it's begun
Please give me some time
Cause we are running into the sun
Getting close to something into the sun
You know that we're falling
We're falling back into the sun
I never meant to let you go
Why did I leave maybe we'll never know
But I'm a man now broken on the ground
I'm in need and I think that it shows
All this time we're going nowhere and we know it
I was so blind
All the lights are leading to where you're going
I'm not far behind
and now we're running into the sun
Getting close to something into the sun
You know that we're falling
We're falling back into the sun
Into the sun
Into the sun
Into the sun
You know that we're running into the sun
Getting close to something into the sun
You know that we're falling
We're falling back into the sun
Into the sun
Into the sun
Into the sun

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Right Now

Dont wanna wait til tomorrow,
Why put it off another day?
One more walk through problems,
Built up, and stand in our way ,ah
One step ahead, one step behind me
Now you gotta run to get even
Make future plans, dont dream about yesterday, hey
Cmon turn, turn this thing around
Right now, hey
Its your tomorrow
Right now,
Cmon,its everything
Right now,
Catch a magic moment, do it
Right here and now
It means everything
Miss the beat, you lose the rhythm,
And nothing falls into place, no
Only missed by a fraction,
Slipped a little off your pace, oh,
The more things you get, the more you want,
Just trade in one for the other,
Workin so hard, to make it easier, whoa,
Got to turn, cmon turn this thing around
Right now, hey
Its your tomorrow
Right now,
Cmon, its everything
Right now,
Catch that magic moment, do it
Right here and now
It means everything
Its enlightened me, right now
What are you waitin for
Oh, yeah, right now
Right now, hey
Its your tomorrow
Right now,
Cmon, its everything
Right now,
Catch that magic moment, and do it right,
Right now
Right now, oh, right now
Its whats happening?
Right here and now
Right now
Its right now
Tell me, what are you waiting for
Turn this thing around

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Patrick White

The Brief History Of Now

They cancelled the foundation stone
like quicksand, a god, or a bad cheque; finally
after thousands of years of watching her change in a window,
her lingerie spread softly on the clouds,
they seized the moon and raped her
and chained her to a bedpost by the neck. Science
denounced the sloppy dynasty of flesh and bone
and standing in the power circle of its denuded magic
disappeared in a delirium of mystical bosons
that added gravity to the argument that life
was neither divinely humorous nor infernally tragic,
but the astronomical defect of agitated genes.
No one really knows what that means,
but everyone took them at their word
and sacrificed their first-born like obsolete cell-phones
on the altars of the absurd. And in the leafless tree no birds sang
exalted by the morning, and without a warning
that it had had enough of sweeping up the mess,
the wind walked out with seeds in its hair and everywhere
the doctors listened for a pulse, a gust, a breath, a breeze,
nothing was heard but the silence of ancient vacancies
sphinxing the unmoved deserts with time.
There was nothing left to celebrate, nothing sublime
that could lift the human spirit
out of the post-diluvian slime of random selection
to commemorate its myth of origin
with a shrine or an obelisk, or, at the very least,
the good beginning of a spiritual erection.
Bread didn’t rise, and the sun in the east
was a mess of uncertainty and sad yeast.
Even the darkness lost its charisma and taste
and the night was no longer an act of grace
but a junkie turned out with the battered face of the moon.
Hard, hard, hard, the obscenity of human lovelessness
that sipped its sacrament from a coke-spoon
and stripped of its creeds, when down on its knees
to confess the infallibility of its helplessness. The worst
grew bolder than porn and celebrity children
that no one missed on the back of milk cartons
cursed the day they were born. The experts and the wise
pondered the weight of their proof like gold
and alloys of the tempered lies they once foretold,
calculated the infinite odds against the recovery of the truth,
and breaking into a sweat of febrile fears
distinguished the tenure of their correct careers
by calling in a bomb-threat from a telephone-booth in arrears.
Baghdad nosed among its ruins like a missile.
Rwanda cropped its people with machetes;
the gangrene of the Sudan reeked and ran
and everywhere that Jesus walked the Promised Land,
apocalypse was wired to a parked van
as the U.N. and the Vatican proof-read Paul’s epistle,
whistling in the dark about a veto and a thistle
thorning the heart of charity with reservations
that calmed the queasy conscience of the brave and sleazy nations
with press conferences and funeral orations
that talced the rabies of the demonically depraved.
So that in the end, with heartfelt regrets, no one was saved
from anything, not the butchers in the boardrooms
compounding third-world debts, not
the designer generals in their new-age epaulets, not
the testaments of never again that everyone forgets,
not even the babies in their prams and bassinets
waiting to have their asses wiped like bayonets.
And then the bottom fell out. Greed spoke like a nuclear tumour.
And all that was left of civilization
raised on the ethics of deprivation
from the ziggurats of ancient Sumer
to the stock-markets of New York
died like a vicious rumour.

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Ballad Of The Illinois Opry

Found myself heading down toward springfield
The last sign said it was twelve miles west
Its gettin hard to see through the salt on my windshield
But it looks like Im gonna make it before the sun sets
The morning I arrived was lincolns birthday
So I walked through his house and saw his tomb
I decided that a tour through the civil war memorial museum would be a drag
I was tired of seeing monuments about other mens doom
Now I dont want you people to think that all there is around springfield illinois
Are landmarks telling 'bout the good old lincoln years
Cus just north of town I saw a sign that said the illinois opry is open tonight
And the sweet sound of country music filled my ears
And I want to be a star in the illinois opry now
The people in the country certainly know how to play
It may be a while before Im ready
But Im gonna be up on that stage someday
I could easily write a whole song about the licks that guitar man was pickin
I could go on for hours 'bout the old boy on pedal steel
But Im not singing 'bout people who were just playin music
Im singing about how fine their music made me feel
Theres a lot of people who have taken years of lessons
Trying to learn how to make their music fit the trend
But the simple folks at the opry have got somethin special
And I think that we all could use a lesson or two from them
And I want to be a star in the illinois opry now
The people in the country certainly know how to play
It maybe a while before Im ready
But Im gonna be up on that stage someday

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The Rose

Some say love it is a river
That drowns the tender reed.
Some say love it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love it is a hunger
An endless, aching need
I say love it is a flower,
And you its only seed.
Its the heart afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance
Its the dream afraid of waking
That never takes the chance
Its the one who wont be taken,
Who cannot seem to give
And the soul afraid of dying
That never learns to live.
And the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long.
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong.
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed that with the suns love,
In the spring, becomes a rose.

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The Rose

(amanda mcbroom)
Producers for bonnie: harold faltermeyer and gernot rothenbach
Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed
Some say love it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed
Some say love it is a a hunger
An endless aching need
I say love it is a flower
And you its only seed
Its the heart afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance
Its the dream, afraid of waking
That never takes the chance
Its the one, who wont be taken
Who can not seem to give
And the soul afraid of dying
That never learns to live
When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snow
Lives a seed, that with the suns love
In the spring becomes the rose

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Same Direction

whenever i step outside, somebody claims to see the light
it seems to me that all of us have lost our patience
'cause everyone thinks they're right, and nobody thinks that there just might
be more than one road to our final destination
but i'm not ever going to know if i'm right or wrong
'cause we're all going in the same direction
and i'm not sure which way to go because all along
we've been goin in the same direction
i'm tired of playing games, of looking for someone else to blame
for all the holes in answers that are clearly showing
for something to fill the space, was all of the time i spent a waste
'cause so many choices point the same way i was going
so why does there only have to be one correct philosophy?
i don't want to go and follow you just to end up like one of them
and why are you always telling me what you want me to believe?
i'd like to think that i can go my own way and meet you in the end
but i'm not ever going to know...

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On Looking into a Cot

For you and you alone,
Creation has somehow come about..

for a moment, held its breath
and then, breathed you,
to demonstrate its awesome powers.

For you and you alone,
worlds have collided: not
the planets and the stars
in their graceful distances
(though some say, even they colluded) –

but worlds of cause and mind and body;
for you and you alone,
miracles have become commonplace.

For you and you alone,
the gods invented blue:
painted the windows of your soul
which have yet to focus,
with a blue so delicate yet bright,
so here and yet so far;

eyes that just now for a moment opened,
remained unimpressed,
closed into a smile
at what you still remember deep inside;

For you and you alone,
a lifetime’s been prepared
(some say you wrote the first draft of the script..)
but right now, you and we
live only in the present; may you
live always in that..

For you and you alone, all one,
Love is.
Love that made the world, sustains it; the
infinite electricity of your mother’s touch,
your father’s sheer delight;
for you and you alone, Love is.

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Fast thoughts

Rumble of traffic
Rustle of wind
Singing of birds
Noise of the tv
Cracking and creaking of conservatory
Own soft breathing
Tapping of pen
Rattle of paper

What will this time bring?
What is the phone rings?
Why can't I rid of this hung-over feeling?
What are they doing
And what is he thinking?
Should I feel guilty for sitting and sinking?
Should I be working?
For test that are lurking
What should I wear for work when I'm flirting?
Should I be flirting?
Working my shirt
And being their shine when I know that they hurt?

The sight of my phone
The look of my nails
The book in the background
The newspaper tails

The siren inside
The rumble of words
The rustle of fear
The screaming of thoughts
The need to be free
The cracking and tapping of anxiety
Own soft breathing
Tapping of pen
Rustle of paper

Feeling unhealthy
Fearing the stealthy
Working right now
To one day be wealthy
Making a million
Or giving up bread
The siren of nothing
So loud in my head

Should I get up
And make myself stand?
Make use of this book
This pen in my hand?

Instead I will sit
For a minute of two
And be glad that one day
I'll have nothing to do.

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Ms. Wallace (Outro)

As a child Christopher was outspoken when it suited him at times he was quiet
and of course he was mischievous as all little boys are as a young man he likes
to do everything he liked to read he likes to be with his friends as young kids
r young boys he enjoyed life everything that would make him happy r comfortable
he would do but mostly he enjoyed being with his friends and family his early
inspirations toward rap music were the LLs of the world the sugar hills the Mr.
magics and the fat boys of the rap channel those were all the things I heard in
the house even though I called it noise and banging I know now that it is a
accepted musical art form I was a single parent I raised my son on my own his
father had no influence on his decision towards the musical outlet r career he
chose my son had a mind of his own even if his father was around he would have
turned to rap he loved music he loved rap at a point in my sons life he
developed paranoia about death and about the dying we are living in a world of
perfect human beings we are greed jealousy and envy or manifested by what
others have accomplished in life my son was very very much aware of that he
appreciated his station in life on the directions in which he was going are
traveling on the other hand there were others who I should uhh use the hip hop
phrase player hating and I think that is what resulted in his paranoia if I had
to change anything in my sons life that would have allowed him to be here
today I would have deterred him from a career in music im aware that millions
appreciated his music millions loved his music be that it may if he hadnt
chosen that life style that career my son would be alive today if I could sum
up Christopher in one word the word would be generous th thing that my son
loved most about life was the fact that he was in a position to help position
to share position to give to others who needed to others who wanted to others
apreciated the gifts that he gave thats what he loved most

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Cathair Fhargus

A mountain in the Island of Arran, the summit of which resembles a gigantic
human profile.

WITH face turned upward to the changeful sky,
I, Fergus, lie, supine in frozen rest;
The maiden morning clouds slip rosily
Unclasped, unclasping, down my granite breast;
The lightning strikes my brow and passes by.

There's nothing new beneath the sun, I wot:
I, 'Fergus' called,--the great pre-Adamite,
Who for my mortal body blindly sought
Rash immortality, and on this height
Stone-bound, forever am and yet am not,--

There's nothing new beneath the sun, I say.
Ye pigmies of a later race, who come
And play out your brief generation's play
Below me, know, I too spent my life's sum,
And revelled through my short tumultuous day.

O, what is man that he should mouth so grand
Through his poor thousand as his seventy years?
Whether as king I ruled a trembling land,
Or swayed by tongue or pen my meaner peers,
Or earth's whole learning once did understand,--

What matter? The star-angels know it all.
They who came sweeping through the silent night
And stood before me, yet did not appal:
Till, fighting 'gainst me in their courses bright,*
Celestial smote terrestrial.--Hence, my fall.

Hence, Heaven cursed me with a granted prayer;
Made my hill-seat eternal: bade me keep
My pageant of majestic lone despair,
While one by one into the infinite deep
Sank kindred, realm, throne, world: yet I lay there.

There still I lie. Where are my glories fled?
My wisdom that I boasted as divine?
My grand primeval women fair, who shed
Their whole life's joy to crown one hour of mine,
And live to curse the love they coveted?

'The stars in their courses fought against Sisera.'

Gone--gone. Uncounted æons have rolled by,
And still my ghost sits by its corpse of stone,
And still the blue smile of the new-formed sky
Finds me unchanged. Slow centuries crawling on
Bring myriads happy death:--I cannot die.

My stone shape mocks the dead man's peaceful face,
And straightened arm that will not labor more;
And yet I yearn for a mean six-foot space
To moulder in, with daisies growing o'er,
Rather than this unearthly resting-place;--

Where pinnacled, my silent effigy
Against the sunset rising clear and cold,
Startles the musing mstranger sailing by,
And calls up thoughts that never can be told,
Of life, and death, and immortality.

While I?--I watch this after world that creeps
Nearer and nearer to the feet of God:
Ay, though it labors, struggles, sins, and weeps,
Yet, love-drawn, follows ever Him who trod
Through dim Gethsemane to Cavalry's steeps.

O glorious shame! O royal servitude!
High lowliness, and ignorance all-wise!
Pure life with death, and death with life imbued;--
My centuried splendors crumble 'neath Thine eyes,
Thou Holy One who died upon the Rood!

Therefore, face upward to the Christian heaven,
I, Fergus, lie: expectant, humble, calm;
Dumb emblem of the faith to me not given;
The clouds drop chrism, the stars their midnight psalm
Chant over one, who passed away unshriven.

'I am the Resurrection and the Life.',
So from yon mountain graveyard cries the dust
Of child to parent, husband unto wife,
Consoling, and believing in the Just:--
Christ lives, though all the universe died in strife.

Therefore my granite lips forever pray,
'O rains, wash out my sin of self abhorred:
O sun, melt thou my heart of stone away,
Out of Thy plenteous mercy save me, Lord.'
And thus I wait till Resurrection-day.

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The first approximation in this future that we're looking at is that everyone will be physically well off. They will have a great abundance in material goods, and I think that will soften some of the conflicts we see now.

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