Facts are stubborn things.
quote by Ronald Reagan
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Crosseyed & Painless
Lost my shape-trying to act casual!
Cant stop-i might end up in the hospital
Im changing my shape-i feel like an accident
Theyre back!-to explain their experience
Isnt it weird/looks too obscure to me
Wasting away/and that was their policy
Im ready to leave-i push the fact in front of me
Facts lost-facts are never what they seem to be
Nothing there!-no information left of any kind
Lifting my head-looking for danger signs
There was a line/there was a formula
Sharp as a knife/facts cut a hole in us
There was a line/there was a forula
Sharp as a knife/facts cut a hole in us
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
The feeling returns/whenever we close out eyes
Lifting my head/looking around inside
The island of doubt-its like the taste of medicine
Working by hindsight-got the message from the oxygen
Making a list-find the cost of opportunity
Doing it right-facts are useless in emergencies
The feeling returns/whenever we close out eyes
Lifting my head/looking around inside.
Facts are simple and facts are straight
Facts are lazy and facts are late
Facts all come with points of view
Facts dont do what I want them to
Facts just twist the truth around
Facts are living turned inside out
Facts are getting the best of them
Facts are nothing on the face of things
Facts dont stain the furniture
Facts go out and slam the door
Facts are written all over your face
Facts continue to change their shape
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
song performed by Talking Heads
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- quotes about information
- quotes about islands
- quotes about work
- quotes about life
- quotes about eyes
- quotes about peace
A Teaching Of The Facts Can Relax
Vulnerability when needed,
Can attract true love.
With a getting of some pity too.
A vulnerability when needed,
Can attract true love.
With a bit of innocence,
That can put one in the mood.
And when,
Facts of life are slow...
A teaching of the facts can relax.
A teaching of the facts,
Can get one to relax.
And when,
A nervousness sets in...
A teaching of the facts can relax,
In those moments.
A teaching of the facts can relax.
And when,
Eyes begin to cry...
A teaching of the facts can relax,
In those moments.
A teaching of the facts can relax.
A teaching of the facts can relax.
Vulnerability when needed,
Can attract true love.
With a teaching of the facts to relax,
In those moments.
A teaching of the facts can relax.
A vulnerability when needed,
Can attract true love.
With a bit of innocence,
That can put one in the mood.
And when,
A nervousness sets in...
A teaching of the facts can relax,
In those moments.
A teaching of the facts can relax.
And when,
Eyes begin to cry...
A teaching of the facts can relax,
In those moments.
A teaching of the facts can relax.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Is Something Really Wrong About That
There's something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
There is something really wrong about that!
They're not based in truth of action.
Something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
Absent is the truth of action.
Nothing is said about that.
There is something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
There's something really wrong about that!
They're not based in truth of action.
Something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
Absent is the truth of action.
Nothing is said about that.
Truth has been manipulated.
Something is wrong about that!
And people now themselves they hate.
Something is wrong about that!
Racism is the indicator.
Something is wrong about that!
And how one lives is too debated.
Something is wrong about that!
There is something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
There's something really wrong about that!
They're not based in truth of action.
Something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
Absent is the truth of action.
Nothing is said about that.
We've all been underestimated.
Something is wrong about that!
The thoughts of people are degraded.
Something is wrong about that!
Deceivers seem too much elated.
Something is wrong about that!
And truth for us has been created...
With an ease that's made..
Oh there's something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Back To The Facts
From minds the chains are gone.
From minds the chains are gone.
From minds the chains are gone.
From minds the chains are gone.
And it's...
Back to the facts.
Back to unpack those facts,
Packed.
Back to the facts!
To dust them off and stack them tall.
Back to the facts...
To unwrap and stack.
Medieval evils,
No longer can be forced on people.
Walls are falling.
And used as steps for those who crawl.
To see life without limits,
With a higher consciousness.
And it's...
Back to the facts.
Back to unpack those facts,
Packed.
Back to the facts!
To dust them off and stack them tall.
Back to the facts...
To unwrap and stack.
Medieval evils,
From minds the chains are gone...
To keep the people,
From a...
Bouncing off the walls.
Medieval evils,
From minds the chains are gone...
To keep the people,
From a...
Bouncing off the walls.
And it's...
Back to the facts.
Back to unpack those facts,
Packed.
Back to the facts!
To dust them off and stack them tall.
Back to the facts...
To unwrap and stack.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stubborn
Stubborn, stubborn
He was stubborn as a mule.
He refused to budge
in the world so cruel.
'Cause what good would it do,
one step or two?
It would get him nowhere
'cause the word's so cruel.
Stubborn, stubborn.
He was stubborn as a mule.
His eyes were defiant
with fire and fuel.
He'd been born into pain
where no one had cared.
He was alone in the world
but never was he scared.
He was just stubborn.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Grim Facts
The boy's got problems
The boy's got stress
The boys' a .38 hidden in his desk
The boy's got a chickie
With four months to go
Grim Facts - every parent better know
The girl's a deadly teaser
Wants to do a private show
She's got a hundred thousand fantasies
She wants the band to know
She likes to brush across my Levis
She likes to watch him grow
Grim Facts - every parent better know
Grim Facts - every parent better know
Red lights
Gang fights
Brewing in the heat
Cop cars
Gay bars
On your precious street
That ain't so neat
Sister's on the street now
Looking for some Joe
Only got about an hour
To pay for her new nose
She gets a hundred for her body
A nickel for her soul
These are grim facts - every parent better know
Grim facts - every parent better know
Red lights
Gang fights
Brewing in the heat
Cop cars
Gay bars
On your precious street
That ain't so neat
And I'm feeling itchy
Got a fire down below
I'm a walkin' loaded time bomb
Just about to blow
Tries to slide inside my pockets
But it's strictly SRO
Grim facts - every parent better know
Grim facts - every parent better know
Red lights
Gang fights
Brewing in the heat
Cop cars
Gay bars
On your precious street
[...] Read more
song performed by Alice Cooper
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Gaza Poem-who Wants War? Lets See The Facts And Not Igonre
ISRAEL WANTS PEACE
GAZA WANTS WAR
LETS SEE THE FACTS AND NOT IGONRE
WHO WANTS WAR?
WHOSE TANKS ARE TOWARDS WHOSE DOOR?
LETS SEE THE FACTS AND NOT IGONRE
WHO WANTS WAR?
WHOSE WARSHIPS ON WHOSE SHORE?
LETS SEE THE FACTS AND NOT IGONRE
WHO WANTS WAR?
WHOSE SOLDIERS ARE CALLED IN MORE & MORE?
LETS SEE THE FACTS AND NOT IGONRE
WHO WANTS WAR?
WHOSE VILLAGES ARE DESTROYED - BOMBS IN POUR?
LETS SEE THE FACTS AND NOT IGONRE
WHO WANTS WAR?
WHOSE BODIES ARE IN BITS AND PIECES TORE?
LETS SEE THE FACTS AND NOT IGONRE
WHO WANTS WAR?
WHOSE HOSPITALS ARE FILLED WITH DEFACED CORP?
LETS SEE THE FACTS AND NOT IGONRE
WHO WANTS WAR?
212,387,991 DEAD BODIES STACK UP… …CAN U IMAGINE THE SCORE?
LETS SEE THE FACTS AND NOT IGONRE
WHO WANTS WAR?
CANT U SEE ANYMORE?
ISRAEL WANTS WAR!
YOU SEE THE FACTS AND IGNORE
poem by Noor Alkhatib
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They Know That They Don't Know
They know that they don't know!
And their opinions discloses the evidence.
Most of their knowledge has been obtained,
By innuendos and nonsense.
Leaving them exposed,
To an ignorance that shows.
They know that they don't know!
And any actions taken to comprehend...
Becomes entrapped by an inferiority,
Felt within them.
And that which escapes their understanding...
Is left out of their reach.
Although very close...
Are those answers they seek most.
But quick they fold their arms to their chests,
With stubborn hands to express...
Their choice not to hear,
What for them is best!
Declaring they wish not to listen...
Because facts distracts,
A consciousness they lack!
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it...
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it.
They know that they don't know.
But they want to gossip it...
And spread those rumors made to fit,
Those ears that are as limited!
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
They know that they don't know,
With their minds closed.
And spread those rumors made to fit,
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Talked Me Into It
I'll stand and hold onto
everything I wished for
I'm stubborn, but you talked me into it
You have the key to my mind
I melt in front of you
You turn me on without trying
You talked me into it
And I let you, at that time
I could have believed
anything you said
You ignored me before that night
but I was desperate for your attention
If I was psychic,
woulda wished for anything but you
You talked me into it
Into everything I wished for
I'm stubborn, but you talked me into it
Wondered if you knew I existed
I was enchanted with you
Never felt more forgotten
I'm stubborn, but you laughed
Said, I'll never leave you in the rain
I took your word, let you
Talk me into it
You're the only one that has
enough of me to love
and wish
You talked me into it
Banished me to the back of your mind
after all these years
Never felt more forgotten
I'm stubborn, but
I remember that night
When you talked me into it
But I stood and held onto
everything I wished for
I'm stubborn, but you talked me into it
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You've Changed
We've been through this before......
Compromise
With me agree right now
Useless cries
I'm telling you just how
Paralyzed
There is nothing I can do
I realize
I liked the other you.
You've changed
Everything about you is strange
Look at yourself, you've changed
With the facts in your face
It's causing conflict
You've changed
Everything about you is strange
Look at yourself, you've changed
With the facts in your face
It's causing conflict
Hypnotized
By all your complex games
Sacrifice
My own opinions change
Justify
Just why to stay with you
I can't see why
Nothing else for me to do
It makes no sense
Putting ourselves through all this
At my expense
Don't I deserve much less
It's way past time
To right the wrong we're in
The bottom line
No way that we can win
You've changed
Everything about you is strange
Look at yourself, you've changed
With the facts in your face
It's causing conflict
You've changed
Everything about you is strange
Look at yourself, you've changed
With the facts in your face
It's causing conflict
You brought it all, all on yourself, you're strange to me
[background vocal]
You brought on all this mess
My needs were not addressed
You caused so much distress
[...] Read more
song performed by Flaw
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America Is
America is
America is
America is
America is
America is the home of the hypocrite
America is the home of the hypocrite
America is the home of the hypocrite
American dream so f-f-full of it
Look at the indians
Look at the blacks
Look at the figures
Look at the facts
Check out the facts
The facts not the lies
When you find out
Big surprise
America is the home of the hypocrite
America is the home of the hypocrite
America is the home of the hypocrite
American dream so f-f-full of it
Check out the indians
Check out the blacks
Check out the figures
Check out the facts
Check out some facts
Check out the facts not the lies
When you find out
Its a big surprise right between the eyes
America is the home of the hypocrite
America is the home of the hypocrite
America is the home of the hypocrite
American dream so f-f-full of it
American dream is only a dream
No desperation limit
New desperation level
Even though my nose dont work
I smell trouble I smell trouble
No desperation limit
New desperation level
Murder, mureder in the goverment
Say youre sorry
Say youre sorry
No desperation limit
New desperation level
Turn the key
Turn the lock
Nationalism
You can suck my..
No desperation limit
New desperation level
[...] Read more
song performed by Violent Femmes
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The Library
When the sad soul, by care and grief oppress'd,
Looks round the world, but looks in vain for rest;
When every object that appears in view
Partakes her gloom and seems dejected too;
Where shall affliction from itself retire?
Where fade away and placidly expire?
Alas! we fly to silent scenes in vain;
Care blasts the honours of the flow'ry plain:
Care veils in clouds the sun's meridian beam,
Sighs through the grove, and murmurs in the stream;
For when the soul is labouring in despair,
In vain the body breathes a purer air:
No storm-tost sailor sighs for slumbering seas,-
He dreads the tempest, but invokes the breeze;
On the smooth mirror of the deep resides
Reflected woe, and o'er unruffled tides
The ghost of every former danger glides.
Thus, in the calms of life, we only see
A steadier image of our misery;
But lively gales and gently clouded skies
Disperse the sad reflections as they rise;
And busy thoughts and little cares avail
To ease the mind, when rest and reason fail.
When the dull thought, by no designs employ'd,
Dwells on the past, or suffer'd or enjoy'd,
We bleed anew in every former grief,
And joys departed furnish no relief.
Not Hope herself, with all her flattering art,
Can cure this stubborn sickness of the heart:
The soul disdains each comfort she prepares,
And anxious searches for congenial cares;
Those lenient cares, which with our own combined,
By mix'd sensations ease th' afflicted mind,
And steal our grief away, and leave their own
behind;
A lighter grief! which feeling hearts endure
Without regret, nor e'en demand a cure.
But what strange art, what magic can dispose
The troubled mind to change its native woes?
Or lead us willing from ourselves, to see
Others more wretched, more undone than we?
This BOOKS can do;--nor this alone; they give
New views to life, and teach us how to live;
They soothe the grieved, the stubborn they
chastise,
Fools they admonish, and confirm the wise:
Their aid they yield to all: they never shun
The man of sorrow, nor the wretch undone:
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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Have You Heard The News?
Flying thru the airwaves
Living thru the printed word
Flasher in the living room
Guru of the seen and heard
Who decides what we get to hear?
Fuzzy round the edges
Or making it clear?
Blinding us with those facts
Blinding us with those facts
Chorus
Have you heard the news?
Wo wo wo wooo
Have you heard the news?
Written on the black and white page
We cant believe what we read
Doubting of reality
Has become the new rage
Who says that truth is stranger than fiction?
Money [it talks] and it will cause less friction
A few white lies for a nice little sensation
Chorus
Little box in the corner
A picture worth a thousand words
But who chooses which pictures we see?
Who decides on the commentary?
Keeping people in a state of confusion
Theres a thin line between facts and illusion
Diverting our attention from big brother in the city
Chorus
When will we get, when will we get to the real nitty gritty,
Nitty gritty, nitty gritty
When will we get to it, when will we get to it now, when will we get to
It
When will we get to it?
Living thru the printed word
[flasher] in the living room
Guru of the seen and heard
Who decides what we get to hear?
Fuzzy round the edges
Or making it clear?
Blinding us with those facts oh
Blinding us with those facts
Chorus
Have you heard, have you heard?
Chorus
song performed by Howard Jones
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The Facts Of Life
Mon key see and mon key do
Ma king ba bies, ea ting food
Smel ly things, pu bic hair
Words of lo ve, in the air
Sparks fly, shoo ting out
Ma king sure that eve ry thing is wor king
I cant turn you down
We are pro grammed hap py lit tle chil dren
Mat ter o ver mind
We can not re sis so I wont fight it
Love is a ma chine
Love is a ma chine without a dri ver
The facts of life
The facts of life
A masterpiece
Biology
Smokey water
Air conditioned
Boys n girls
And automation
Chromosomes
Designer jeans
Chimpanzees
And human beings
Machines of love
Machines of love
Strong in body, strong in mind
A love machine with the facts of life
The facts of life
The facts of life
So much sex n violence
Must be a bad design
Were stupid to be fighting
Every night
The monsters we create
They welcome us aboard
The best in advertising
From coast to coast
The girls and boys combine
Like monkeys in the zoo
The clouds have silver linings
Looks pretty good
People fall in love like in fairy tales
Im not sure I like, what they can do
Im afraid that God has no master plan
He only takes -- what he can use
Factory life, ice cream & pie
Factory life
Someday well live on venus
And men will walk on mars
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song performed by Talking Heads
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I. The Ring and the Book
Do you see this Ring?
'T is Rome-work, made to match
(By Castellani's imitative craft)
Etrurian circlets found, some happy morn,
After a dropping April; found alive
Spark-like 'mid unearthed slope-side figtree-roots
That roof old tombs at Chiusi: soft, you see,
Yet crisp as jewel-cutting. There's one trick,
(Craftsmen instruct me) one approved device
And but one, fits such slivers of pure gold
As this was,—such mere oozings from the mine,
Virgin as oval tawny pendent tear
At beehive-edge when ripened combs o'erflow,—
To bear the file's tooth and the hammer's tap:
Since hammer needs must widen out the round,
And file emboss it fine with lily-flowers,
Ere the stuff grow a ring-thing right to wear.
That trick is, the artificer melts up wax
With honey, so to speak; he mingles gold
With gold's alloy, and, duly tempering both,
Effects a manageable mass, then works:
But his work ended, once the thing a ring,
Oh, there's repristination! Just a spirt
O' the proper fiery acid o'er its face,
And forth the alloy unfastened flies in fume;
While, self-sufficient now, the shape remains,
The rondure brave, the lilied loveliness,
Gold as it was, is, shall be evermore:
Prime nature with an added artistry—
No carat lost, and you have gained a ring.
What of it? 'T is a figure, a symbol, say;
A thing's sign: now for the thing signified.
Do you see this square old yellow Book, I toss
I' the air, and catch again, and twirl about
By the crumpled vellum covers,—pure crude fact
Secreted from man's life when hearts beat hard,
And brains, high-blooded, ticked two centuries since?
Examine it yourselves! I found this book,
Gave a lira for it, eightpence English just,
(Mark the predestination!) when a Hand,
Always above my shoulder, pushed me once,
One day still fierce 'mid many a day struck calm,
Across a Square in Florence, crammed with booths,
Buzzing and blaze, noontide and market-time,
Toward Baccio's marble,—ay, the basement-ledge
O' the pedestal where sits and menaces
John of the Black Bands with the upright spear,
'Twixt palace and church,—Riccardi where they lived,
His race, and San Lorenzo where they lie.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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The Interpretation of Nature and
I.
MAN, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.
II.
Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions.
III.
Human knowledge and human power meet in one; for where the cause is not known the effect cannot be produced. Nature to be commanded must be obeyed; and that which in contemplation is as the cause is in operation as the rule.
IV.
Towards the effecting of works, all that man can do is to put together or put asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by nature working within.
V.
The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the magician; but by all (as things now are) with slight endeavour and scanty success.
VI.
It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect that things which have never yet been done can be done except by means which have never yet been tried.
VII.
The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in books and manufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite subtlety and derivations from a few things already known; not in the number of axioms.
VIII.
Moreover the works already known are due to chance and experiment rather than to sciences; for the sciences we now possess are merely systems for the nice ordering and setting forth of things already invented; not methods of invention or directions for new works.
IX.
The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this -- that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human mind we neglect to seek for its true helps.
X.
The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding; so that all those specious meditations, speculations, and glosses in which men indulge are quite from the purpose, only there is no one by to observe it.
XI.
As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding out new works, so neither does the logic which we now have help us in finding out new sciences.
XII.
The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more harm than good.
XIII.
[...] Read more
poem by Sir Francis Bacon
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Met Pet Goat While Twin Towers Burn
"9/11 justified
invasion Afghanistan?
really Taliban
zero hijackers
zero links
to al-Qaeda?
at the time
hijackers were Arab?
not Afghani?
President George W. Bush
failed nation America
ordered total no shot down"
9: 03 a.m. Bush no action partakes
in a meaningless primary publicity
photo-op ignoring responsibility
continental US is already under attack
at Emma E. Booker Elementary
School in Sarasota, Florida
Mr President beat around the Bush
is reading 'Met Pet Goat'
to school children
for five critical minutes
after he had been told
second World Trade
Center tower had been hit
that America was under attack
wait rewind "What's the time? "
approximately 8: 48 a.m.
morning September 11 2001
first pictures of burning
World Trade Center
are broadcast on live television
reporters news anchors viewers
have had no advance warning
"What has happened in lower Manhattan?
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Candidate
This poem was written in , on occasion of the contest between the
Earls of Hardwicke and Sandwich for the High-stewardship of the
University of Cambridge, vacant by the death of the Lord Chancellor
Hardwicke. The spirit of party ran high in the University, and no
means were left untried by either candidate to obtain a majority. The
election was fixed for the th of March, when, after much
altercation, the votes appearing equal, a scrutiny was demanded;
whereupon the Vice-Chancellor adjourned the senate _sine die_. On
appeal to the Lord High-Chancellor, he determined in favour of the
Earl of Hardwicke, and a mandamus issued accordingly.
Enough of Actors--let them play the player,
And, free from censure, fret, sweat, strut, and stare;
Garrick abroad, what motives can engage
To waste one couplet on a barren stage?
Ungrateful Garrick! when these tasty days,
In justice to themselves, allow'd thee praise;
When, at thy bidding, Sense, for twenty years,
Indulged in laughter, or dissolved in tears;
When in return for labour, time, and health,
The town had given some little share of wealth,
Couldst thou repine at being still a slave?
Darest thou presume to enjoy that wealth she gave?
Couldst thou repine at laws ordain'd by those
Whom nothing but thy merit made thy foes?
Whom, too refined for honesty and trade,
By need made tradesmen, Pride had bankrupts made;
Whom Fear made drunkards, and, by modern rules,
Whom Drink made wits, though Nature made them fools;
With such, beyond all pardon is thy crime,
In such a manner, and at such a time,
To quit the stage; but men of real sense,
Who neither lightly give, nor take offence,
Shall own thee clear, or pass an act of grace,
Since thou hast left a Powell in thy place.
Enough of Authors--why, when scribblers fail,
Must other scribblers spread the hateful tale?
Why must they pity, why contempt express,
And why insult a brother in distress?
Let those, who boast the uncommon gift of brains
The laurel pluck, and wear it for their pains;
Fresh on their brows for ages let it bloom,
And, ages past, still flourish round their tomb.
Let those who without genius write, and write,
Versemen or prosemen, all in Nature's spite,
The pen laid down, their course of folly run
In peace, unread, unmention'd, be undone.
Why should I tell, to cross the will of Fate,
That Francis once endeavour'd to translate?
Why, sweet oblivion winding round his head,
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poem by Charles Churchill
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto I
THE ARGUMENT
The Knight and Squire resolve, at once,
The one the other to renounce.
They both approach the Lady's Bower;
The Squire t'inform, the Knight to woo her.
She treats them with a Masquerade,
By Furies and Hobgoblins made;
From which the Squire conveys the Knight,
And steals him from himself, by Night.
'Tis true, no lover has that pow'r
T' enforce a desperate amour,
As he that has two strings t' his bow,
And burns for love and money too;
For then he's brave and resolute,
Disdains to render in his suit,
Has all his flames and raptures double,
And hangs or drowns with half the trouble,
While those who sillily pursue,
The simple, downright way, and true,
Make as unlucky applications,
And steer against the stream their passions.
Some forge their mistresses of stars,
And when the ladies prove averse,
And more untoward to be won
Than by CALIGULA the Moon,
Cry out upon the stars, for doing
Ill offices to cross their wooing;
When only by themselves they're hindred,
For trusting those they made her kindred;
And still, the harsher and hide-bounder
The damsels prove, become the fonder.
For what mad lover ever dy'd
To gain a soft and gentle bride?
Or for a lady tender-hearted,
In purling streams or hemp departed?
Leap'd headlong int' Elysium,
Through th' windows of a dazzling room?
But for some cross, ill-natur'd dame,
The am'rous fly burnt in his flame.
This to the Knight could be no news,
With all mankind so much in use;
Who therefore took the wiser course,
To make the most of his amours,
Resolv'd to try all sorts of ways,
As follows in due time and place
No sooner was the bloody fight,
Between the Wizard, and the Knight,
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poem by Samuel Butler
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II. Half-Rome
What, you, Sir, come too? (Just the man I'd meet.)
Be ruled by me and have a care o' the crowd:
This way, while fresh folk go and get their gaze:
I'll tell you like a book and save your shins.
Fie, what a roaring day we've had! Whose fault?
Lorenzo in Lucina,—here's a church
To hold a crowd at need, accommodate
All comers from the Corso! If this crush
Make not its priests ashamed of what they show
For temple-room, don't prick them to draw purse
And down with bricks and mortar, eke us out
The beggarly transept with its bit of apse
Into a decent space for Christian ease,
Why, to-day's lucky pearl is cast to swine.
Listen and estimate the luck they've had!
(The right man, and I hold him.)
Sir, do you see,
They laid both bodies in the church, this morn
The first thing, on the chancel two steps up,
Behind the little marble balustrade;
Disposed them, Pietro the old murdered fool
To the right of the altar, and his wretched wife
On the other side. In trying to count stabs,
People supposed Violante showed the most,
Till somebody explained us that mistake;
His wounds had been dealt out indifferent where,
But she took all her stabbings in the face,
Since punished thus solely for honour's sake,
Honoris causâ, that's the proper term.
A delicacy there is, our gallants hold,
When you avenge your honour and only then,
That you disfigure the subject, fray the face,
Not just take life and end, in clownish guise.
It was Violante gave the first offence,
Got therefore the conspicuous punishment:
While Pietro, who helped merely, his mere death
Answered the purpose, so his face went free.
We fancied even, free as you please, that face
Showed itself still intolerably wronged;
Was wrinkled over with resentment yet,
Nor calm at all, as murdered faces use,
Once the worst ended: an indignant air
O' the head there was—'t is said the body turned
Round and away, rolled from Violante's side
Where they had laid it loving-husband-like.
If so, if corpses can be sensitive,
Why did not he roll right down altar-step,
Roll on through nave, roll fairly out of church,
Deprive Lorenzo of the spectacle,
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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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