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Innocence could be considered a discrete state of mind.

quote by John Shirley
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My Innocence Killed Me

INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE OH WHY DO I CRY? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE WHERE IS THE TRUTH OVER THE LIE? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE CAN THE GROUND KEEP ME DOWN? INNOCENCE OH INNOCENCE, WHO KEEPS PULLING YOU DOWN?

FAIL TO THE SYSTEM MY INNOCENCE WAS TAKING AWAY
I WISH FOR IT BACK EACH AND EVERY DAY
AS I LIE SMOTHERED UNDERGROUND
I COULD HAVE SURVIVED IF INNOCENCE WOULD HAVE STAYED AROUND
MY SHELTER, MY GROUND, AND ALSO MY ROOF
WHICH WAS DESIGNED ONLY TO PROTECT MY PROOF
EVIDENCE IS SUBMITTED ONLY TO HELP
WHEN I TURNED TO LOOK INTO YOUR EYES YOU LEFT
SEEKING WEALTH
ONLY TO LEAVE ME INSIDE AN EMPTY CHAMBER
FILLED WITH SO MUCH MAINLY ANGER
MY DISAPPOINTMENT IS PERCEIVED AS RAGE
IT'S JUST A CRAZE
TO BE TAKEN OUT OF MY MISERY RELEASED FROM THIS CAGE

INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE OH WHY I CRY? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE WHERE IS THE TRUTH OVER THE LIE? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE CAN THE GREED KEEP ME DOWN? INNOCENCE OH INNOCENCE, WHO KEEPS PULLING YOU DOWN?

NEGATIVE INTERIOR EMOTIONALLY INFERIOR
WHY DOES MY FREEDOM HAVE TO BE DESTROYED OVER MATERIAL?
LOOKING AT INNOCENCE AND IT SEEMS SO STRANGE.
LOOKING AT MY SITUATION AND REALIZING NOTHING WILL CHANGE.
PURE INJUSTICE TRAIL IS NOT THE SAME.
TAKING MENTAL PICTURES PLACING THEM INSIDE A FRAME.
WHEN THEY ENTER HELL HOPELY THEY BURN IN FLAMES.
I WILL NEVER BE THE SAME.
TO DEATH WHAT IS GAIN?
TO BONDAGE WHAT IS A CHAIN?

INNOCENCE WAS SLAINED AS THEY SCREAMED OUT MY NAME I'M ASKING FOR CHANGE GOT DEATH IN EXCHANGE PARDON MY SCREAM AND KICKS FORGET ABOUT MY INNOCENCE FREEDOM INVOLVE TRICKS AND I CAN'T HELP BUT LAUGH MY INNOCENCE IS THE ONLY REASON I GOT STABBED ON THIS SLAB AS I'M SLICED IN HALF REACHING FOR THE INNOCENCE THAT I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO GRAB YELLING OUT SO UNJUST VOICE YELLS OUT HUSH AND RUSH INTO MY EMBRACE AS THEY REVIVE MY SPIRIT AND TOUCH MY FACE. IS IT GOD OR INNOCENCE THAT I CHASE?

INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE WHY DO I CRY? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE WHERE IS THE TRUTH OVER THE LIE? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE CAN GREED KEEP ME DOWN?
INNOCENCE OH INNOCENCE, WHO KEEPS PULLING YOU DOWN.

poem by Courtney Steele
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II

THE ARGUMENT

The Saints engage in fierce Contests
About their Carnal interests;
To share their sacrilegious Preys,
According to their Rates of Grace;
Their various Frenzies to reform,
When Cromwel left them in a Storm
Till, in th' Effigy of Rumps, the Rabble
Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal.

THE learned write, an insect breeze
Is but a mungrel prince of bees,
That falls before a storm on cows,
And stings the founders of his house;
From whose corrupted flesh that breed
Of vermin did at first proceed.
So e're the storm of war broke out,
Religion spawn'd a various rout
Of petulant Capricious sects,
The maggots of corrupted texts,
That first run all religion down,
And after ev'ry swarm its own.
For as the Persian Magi once
Upon their mothers got their sons,
That were incapable t' enjoy
That empire any other way;
So PRESBYTER begot the other
Upon the good old Cause, his mother,
Then bore then like the Devil's dam,
Whose son and husband are the same.
And yet no nat'ral tie of blood
Nor int'rest for the common good
Cou'd, when their profits interfer'd,
Get quarter for each other's beard.
For when they thriv'd, they never fadg'd,
But only by the ears engag'd:
Like dogs that snarl about a bone,
And play together when they've none,
As by their truest characters,
Their constant actions, plainly appears.
Rebellion now began, for lack
Of zeal and plunders to grow slack;
The Cause and covenant to lessen,
And Providence to b' out of season:
For now there was no more to purchase
O' th' King's Revenue, and the Churches,
But all divided, shar'd, and gone,
That us'd to urge the Brethren on;
Which forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
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State Of Mind

You don't need to hang around
You don't need to talk right now
Gotta feeling, it's a mistake
Gotta feeling, it's gonna break
Some days, sometimes just don't feel right
Too hot to touch
It's getting too much
You know it's just a state of mind
Driving you wild
You're torn up inside
You know it's just a state of mind
State of mind
All I need is to breathe
All I need is to believe
Gotta have it, now I know
Gotta have it, take it slow
Some days, sometimes it just goes right
Too hot to touch
It's getting too much
You know it's just a state of mind
Driving you wild
You're torn up inside
You know it's just a state of mind
State of mind
State of mind
State of mind
Ahhh
Too hot to touch (Yeah)
Ahhh
(It's my state of mind)
Driving you wild
(I was driving you wild)
Too hot to touch
It's getting too much
You know it's just a state of mind
Driving you wild
You're torn up inside
You know it's just a state of mind
State of mind
State of mind
State of mind
Too hot to touch
It's getting too much
You know it's just a state of mind
Driving you wild
You're torn up inside
You know it's just a state of mind
State of mind
State of mind
State of mind

[...] Read more

song performed by Holly Valance
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The Ghost - Book IV

Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Attica State

-"it is my pleasure and privilige at this very solumn moment to introduce a young man and his wife.
Who saw fit to put down in music and lyrics so that it will never be forgotten in our country, by anyone, the tragedy of attica state.
There's no more that i can say, ladies and gentlemen. i would like to introduce you to john and yoko lennon."
-"i'd just like to say, it's an honour and a pleasure to be here at the apollo and for the reasons we're all here.
This song, yoko and i wrote, is called 'attica state'"
One, two, three, four!
What a waste of human power,
What a waste of human lives.
Shoot the pris'ners in the towers,
Forty-three poor widowed wives.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
Media blames it on the pris'ners,
But the pris'ners did not kill.
"rockefeller pulled the trigger,"
That is what the people feel.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
Free the pris'ners, jail the judges,
Free all pris'ners ev'rywhere.
All they need is truth and justice,
All the want is love and care.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
They all live in suffocation,
Let's not watch them die in sorrow.
Now's the time for revolution,
Give them all a chance to grow.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
Come together, join the movement,
Take a stand for human rights.
Fear and hatred clouds our judgement,
Free us all from endless night.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
Attica state, attica state,
We all live in attica state.
Attica state, attica state,
Attica, attica, attica state.
-"thank you, aah, thank you, thank you, aah,. some of you, eh, wonder what i'm doinh here with no drummers and no nothin' like that.
Well, you might know i lost my me old band, or i left it. i'm puttin' a, i'm puttin' an elecric band together, it's not ready yet.
Ah, things like this keep comin' up so, i just have to busk it. so i'm gonna sing you a song now you might know
It's called 'imagine'

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Attica State

-"it is my pleasure and privilige at this very solumn moment to introduce a young man and his wife.
Who saw fit to put down in music and lyrics so that it will never be forgotten in our country, by anyone, the tragedy of attica state.
There's no more that i can say, ladies and gentlemen. i would like to introduce you to john and yoko lennon."
-"i'd just like to say, it's an honour and a pleasure to be here at the apollo and for the reasons we're all here.
This song, yoko and i wrote, is called 'attica state'"
One, two, three, four!
What a waste of human power,
What a waste of human lives.
Shoot the pris'ners in the towers,
Forty-three poor widowed wives.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
Media blames it on the pris'ners,
But the pris'ners did not kill.
"rockefeller pulled the trigger,"
That is what the people feel.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
Free the pris'ners, jail the judges,
Free all pris'ners ev'rywhere.
All they need is truth and justice,
All the want is love and care.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
They all live in suffocation,
Let's not watch them die in sorrow.
Now's the time for revolution,
Give them all a chance to grow.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
Come together, join the movement,
Take a stand for human rights.
Fear and hatred clouds our judgement,
Free us all from endless night.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
Attica state, attica state,
We all live in attica state.
Attica state, attica state,
Attica, attica, attica state.
-"thank you, aah, thank you, thank you, aah,. some of you, eh, wonder what i'm doinh here with no drummers and no nothin' like that.
Well, you might know i lost my me old band, or i left it. i'm puttin' a, i'm puttin' an elecric band together, it's not ready yet.
Ah, things like this keep comin' up so, i just have to busk it. so i'm gonna sing you a song now you might know
It's called 'imagine'

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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State Of Mind

I was goin round the world
I was lookin for somewhere
I was searchin for someone
Who was gonna take me there
Didnt want to do it cause I knew what Id find
Yourre really only livin in a state of mind, yeah
I was thinkin of the past
I was tryin to rack my brain
I was looking at the future, looking at the future
I was tryin to play the game
Didnt want to do it cause I knew what Id find
Youre really only livin in a state of mind, yeah
Sometimes you get lost
Sometimes you get found
In a state of mind
Sometimes youre too high
Sometimes youre too down
Its just a state of mind
Didnt want to do it cause I knew what Id find
Youre really only livin in a state of mind, yeah
Sometimes you get lost
Sometimes you get found
In a state of mind
Sometimes youre too high
Sometimes youre too down
Its just a state of mind
You think you know it all
Then you think that you know nothing
Cant dance, cant crawl, crawl
Maybe you better forget it
Didnt want to do it cause I knew what Id find
Youre really only livin in a state of mind, yeah
Didnt want to it cause I knew what Id find
Youre really only livin in a state of mind, yeah
Didnt want to it cause I knew what Id find
Youre really only livin in a state of mind, yeah
State of mind
Its a state of mind
State of mind
State of mind
State of mind
State of mind

song performed by Electric Light Orchestra
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Paradise Lost: Book 09

No more of talk where God or Angel guest
With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd,
To sit indulgent, and with him partake
Rural repast; permitting him the while
Venial discourse unblam'd. I now must change
Those notes to tragick; foul distrust, and breach
Disloyal on the part of Man, revolt,
And disobedience: on the part of Heaven
Now alienated, distance and distaste,
Anger and just rebuke, and judgement given,
That brought into this world a world of woe,
Sin and her shadow Death, and Misery
Death's harbinger: Sad talk!yet argument
Not less but more heroick than the wrath
Of stern Achilles on his foe pursued
Thrice fugitive about Troy wall; or rage
Of Turnus for Lavinia disespous'd;
Or Neptune's ire, or Juno's, that so long
Perplexed the Greek, and Cytherea's son:

If answerable style I can obtain
Of my celestial patroness, who deigns
Her nightly visitation unimplor'd,
And dictates to me slumbering; or inspires
Easy my unpremeditated verse:
Since first this subject for heroick song
Pleas'd me long choosing, and beginning late;
Not sedulous by nature to indite
Wars, hitherto the only argument
Heroick deem'd chief mastery to dissect
With long and tedious havock fabled knights
In battles feign'd; the better fortitude
Of patience and heroick martyrdom
Unsung; or to describe races and games,
Or tilting furniture, imblazon'd shields,
Impresses quaint, caparisons and steeds,
Bases and tinsel trappings, gorgeous knights
At joust and tournament; then marshall'd feast
Serv'd up in hall with sewers and seneshals;
The skill of artifice or office mean,
Not that which justly gives heroick name
To person, or to poem. Me, of these
Nor skill'd nor studious, higher argument
Remains; sufficient of itself to raise
That name, unless an age too late, or cold
Climate, or years, damp my intended wing
Depress'd; and much they may, if all be mine,
Not hers, who brings it nightly to my ear.
The sun was sunk, and after him the star
Of Hesperus, whose office is to bring

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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Attica State

What a waste of human power
What a waste of human lives
Shoot the prisoners in the towers
Forty-three poor widowed wives
Attica state, attica state,
Were all mates with attica state
Media blames it on the prisoners
But the prisoners did not kill
Rockefeller pulled the trigger
That is what the people feel
Attica state, attica state,
Were all mates with attica state
Free the prisoners, jail the judges
Free all prisoners everywhere
All they want is truth and justice
All they need is love and care
Attica state, attica state,
Were all mates with attica state
They all live in suffocation
Lets not watch them die in sorrow
Nows the time for revolution
Give them all a chance to grow
Attica state, attica state,
Were all mates with attica state
Come together join the movement
Take a stand for human rights
Fear and hatred clouds our judgement
Free us all from endless night
Attica state, attica state,
Were all mates with attica state
Attica state, attica state,
We all live in attica state
Attica state, attica state,
Attica, attica, attica state

song performed by Lennon John
Added by Lucian Velea
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Change Your Mind

When you get weak, and you need to test your will
When lifes complete, but theres something missing still
Distracting you from this must be the one you love
Must be the one whose magic touch can change your mind
Dont let another day go by without the magic touch
Distracting you (change your mind)
Supporting you (change your mind)
Embracing you (change your mind)
Convincing you (change your mind)
When youre confused and the world has got you down
When you feel used and you just cant play the clown
Protecting you from this must be the one you love
Must be the one whose magic touch can change your mind
Dont let another day go by without the magic touch
Protecting you (change your mind)
Restoring you (change your mind)
Revealing you (change your mind)
Soothing you (change your mind)
You hear the sound, you wait around and get the word
You see the picture changing everything youve heard
Destroying you with this must be the one you love
Must be the one whose magic touch can change your mind
Dont let another day go by without the magic touch
Destroying you (change your mind)
Embracing you (change your mind)
Protecting you (change your mind)
Confining you (change your mind)
Distracting you (change your mind)
Supporting you (change your mind)
Distorting you (change your mind)
Controlling you (change your mind)
Change your mind (change your mind)
Change your mind, change your mind (change your mind)
Change your mind (change your mind)
The morning comes and theres an odor in the room
The scent of love, more than a million roses bloom
Embracing you with this must be the one you love
Must be the one whose magic touch can change your mind
Dont let another day go by without the magic touch
Embracing you (change your mind)
Concealing you (change your mind)
Protecting you (change your mind)
Revealing you (change your mind)
Change your mind, change your mind (change your mind)
Change your mind (change your mind)
Change your mind, change your mind (change your mind)
Change your mind (change your mind)
Change your mind, change your mind
Change your mind
Change your mind, change your mind

[...] Read more

song performed by Neil Young
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Just to Show the Kids Today What Innocence Is

Remember those lollipops we liked alot and licked.
I remember licking every bit and saving the sticks.

Remember spending nickels to get five hot rockets.
Sucking those hot balls until the juice dripped from our lips.

Do you remember candy dots on strips of paper...
With every flavor there but chocolate.

Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!
And...
Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!

Remember those lollipops we liked alot and licked.
I remember licking every bit and saving the sticks.

Remember spending nickels to get five hot rockets.
Sucking those hot balls until the juice dripped from our lips.

Do you remember candy dots on strips of paper...
With every flavor there but chocolate.

Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!
And...
Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!

There were many benefits to being young and innocent.

Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!

There were many benefits to being young and innocent.

Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!

Just to show them proof that innocence once lived!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tale XXI

The Learned Boy

An honest man was Farmer Jones, and true;
He did by all as all by him should do;
Grave, cautious, careful, fond of gain was he,
Yet famed for rustic hospitality:
Left with his children in a widow'd state,
The quiet man submitted to his fate;
Though prudent matrons waited for his call,
With cool forbearance he avoided all;
Though each profess'd a pure maternal joy,
By kind attention to his feeble boy;
And though a friendly Widow knew no rest,
Whilst neighbour Jones was lonely and distress'd;
Nay, though the maidens spoke in tender tone
Their hearts' concern to see him left alone,
Jones still persisted in that cheerless life,
As if 'twere sin to take a second wife.
Oh! 'tis a precious thing, when wives are dead,
To find such numbers who will serve instead;
And in whatever state a man be thrown,
'Tis that precisely they would wish their own;
Left the departed infants--then their joy
Is to sustain each lovely girl and boy:
Whatever calling his, whatever trade,
To that their chief attention has been paid;
His happy taste in all things they approve,
His friends they honour, and his food they love;
His wish for order, prudence in affairs,
An equal temper (thank their stars!), are theirs;
In fact, it seem'd to be a thing decreed,
And fix'd as fate, that marriage must succeed:
Yet some, like Jones, with stubborn hearts and

hard,
Can hear such claims and show them no regard.
Soon as our Farmer, like a general, found
By what strong foes he was encompass'd round,
Engage he dared not, and he could not fly,
But saw his hope in gentle parley lie;
With looks of kindness then, and trembling heart,
He met the foe, and art opposed to art.
Now spoke that foe insidious--gentle tones,
And gentle looks, assumed for Farmer Jones:
'Three girls,' the Widow cried, 'a lively three
To govern well--indeed it cannot be.'
'Yes,' he replied, 'it calls for pains and care:
But I must bear it.'--'Sir, you cannot bear;
Your son is weak, and asks a mother's eye:'
'That, my kind friend, a father's may supply.'

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Book III - Part 02 - Nature And Composition Of The Mind

First, then, I say, the mind which oft we call
The intellect, wherein is seated life's
Counsel and regimen, is part no less
Of man than hand and foot and eyes are parts
Of one whole breathing creature. But some hold
That sense of mind is in no fixed part seated,
But is of body some one vital state,-
Named "harmony" by Greeks, because thereby
We live with sense, though intellect be not
In any part: as oft the body is said
To have good health (when health, however, 's not
One part of him who has it), so they place
The sense of mind in no fixed part of man.
Mightily, diversly, meseems they err.
Often the body palpable and seen
Sickens, while yet in some invisible part
We feel a pleasure; oft the other way,
A miserable in mind feels pleasure still
Throughout his body- quite the same as when
A foot may pain without a pain in head.
Besides, when these our limbs are given o'er
To gentle sleep and lies the burdened frame
At random void of sense, a something else
Is yet within us, which upon that time
Bestirs itself in many a wise, receiving
All motions of joy and phantom cares of heart.
Now, for to see that in man's members dwells
Also the soul, and body ne'er is wont
To feel sensation by a "harmony"
Take this in chief: the fact that life remains
Oft in our limbs, when much of body's gone;
Yet that same life, when particles of heat,
Though few, have scattered been, and through the mouth
Air has been given forth abroad, forthwith
Forever deserts the veins, and leaves the bones.
Thus mayst thou know that not all particles
Perform like parts, nor in like manner all
Are props of weal and safety: rather those-
The seeds of wind and exhalations warm-
Take care that in our members life remains.
Therefore a vital heat and wind there is
Within the very body, which at death
Deserts our frames. And so, since nature of mind
And even of soul is found to be, as 'twere,
A part of man, give over "harmony"-
Name to musicians brought from Helicon,-
Unless themselves they filched it otherwise,
To serve for what was lacking name till then.
Whate'er it be, they're welcome to it- thou,
Hearken my other maxims.

[...] Read more

poem by Lucretius
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David

My thought, on views of admiration hung,
Intently ravish'd and depriv'd of tongue,
Now darts a while on earth, a while in air,
Here mov'd with praise and mov'd with glory there;
The joys entrancing and the mute surprize
Half fix the blood, and dim the moist'ning eyes;
Pleasure and praise on one another break,
And Exclamation longs at heart to speak;
When thus my Genius, on the work design'd
Awaiting closely, guides the wand'ring mind.

If while thy thanks wou'd in thy lays be wrought,
A bright astonishment involve the thought,
If yet thy temper wou'd attempt to sing,
Another's quill shall imp thy feebler wing;
Behold the name of royal David near,
Behold his musick and his measures here,
Whose harp Devotion in a rapture strung,
And left no state of pious souls unsung.

Him to the wond'ring world but newly shewn,
Celestial poetry pronounc'd her own;
A thousand hopes, on clouds adorn'd with rays,
Bent down their little beauteous forms to gaze;
Fair-blooming Innocence with tender years,
And native Sweetness for the ravish'd ears,
Prepar'd to smile within his early song,
And brought their rivers, groves, and plains along;
Majestick Honour at the palace bred,
Enrob'd in white, embroider'd o'er with red,
Reach'd forth the scepter of her royal state,
His forehead touch'd, and bid his lays be great;
Undaunted Courage deck'd with manly charms,
With waving-azure plumes, and gilded arms,
Displaid the glories, and the toils of fight,
Demanded fame, and call'd him forth to write.
To perfect these the sacred spirit came,
By mild infusion of celestial flame,
And mov'd with dove-like candour in his breast,
And breath'd his graces over all the rest.
Ah! where the daring flights of men aspire
To match his numbers with an equal fire;
In vain they strive to make proud Babel rise,
And with an earth-born labour touch the skies.
While I the glitt'ring page resolve to view,
That will the subject of my lines renew;
The Laurel wreath, my fames imagin'd shade,
Around my beating temples fears to fade;
My fainting fancy trembles on the brink,
And David's God must help or else I sink.

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Parnell
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Gotham - Book II

How much mistaken are the men who think
That all who will, without restraint may drink,
May largely drink, e'en till their bowels burst,
Pleading no right but merely that of thirst,
At the pure waters of the living well,
Beside whose streams the Muses love to dwell!
Verse is with them a knack, an idle toy,
A rattle gilded o'er, on which a boy
May play untaught, whilst, without art or force,
Make it but jingle, music comes of course.
Little do such men know the toil, the pains,
The daily, nightly racking of the brains,
To range the thoughts, the matter to digest,
To cull fit phrases, and reject the rest;
To know the times when Humour on the cheek
Of Mirth may hold her sports; when Wit should speak,
And when be silent; when to use the powers
Of ornament, and how to place the flowers,
So that they neither give a tawdry glare,
'Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air;'
To form, (which few can do, and scarcely one,
One critic in an age, can find when done)
To form a plan, to strike a grand outline,
To fill it up, and make the picture shine
A full and perfect piece; to make coy Rhyme
Renounce her follies, and with Sense keep time;
To make proud Sense against her nature bend,
And wear the chains of Rhyme, yet call her friend.
Some fops there are, amongst the scribbling tribe,
Who make it all their business to describe,
No matter whether in or out of place;
Studious of finery, and fond of lace,
Alike they trim, as coxcomb Fancy brings,
The rags of beggars, and the robes of kings.
Let dull Propriety in state preside
O'er her dull children, Nature is their guide;
Wild Nature, who at random breaks the fence
Of those tame drudges, Judgment, Taste, and Sense,
Nor would forgive herself the mighty crime
Of keeping terms with Person, Place, and Time.
Let liquid gold emblaze the sun at noon,
With borrow'd beams let silver pale the moon;
Let surges hoarse lash the resounding shore,
Let streams meander, and let torrents roar;
Let them breed up the melancholy breeze,
To sigh with sighing, sob with sobbing trees;
Let vales embroidery wear; let flowers be tinged
With various tints; let clouds be laced or fringed,
They have their wish; like idle monarch boys,
Neglecting things of weight, they sigh for toys;

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poem by Charles Churchill
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Innocence Again

Do you remember when
You were way back then
You held the world inside your hands
When you told me love
Was the strongest stuff
Your strength was innocence
But, oh man
The signs of the times are omens
You're starting the day in
No man's land again
Who are you gonna be?
When you're on your knees, who do you believe? (oh, oh, oh)
Fear is a lonely man
You've been given innocence
You've been given innocence again
You should know by now
That your darkest hour
Is when your broken heart goes down
It's a bitter end
When the sweet begins
Grace is sufficiency
But, oh dear, we'll never deserve it
No dear, we never could earn it
Now, here the choice is yours
Who are you gonna be?
When you're on your knees, who do you believe? (oh, oh, oh)
Fear is a lonely man
You've been given innocence
You've been given innocence again
Grace is high and low
Grace is high and low
Grace is high and low
We'll never be the same
Who are you gonna be?
When you're on your knees, who do you believe? (oh, oh, oh)
Fear is a lonely man
You've been given innocence
You've been given innocence again
oh, oh, oh...
You've been given innocence, innocence, innocence.
Who are you gonna be...
You've been given innocence.

song performed by Switchfoot
Added by Lucian Velea
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Innocence Taken

Innocence taken
by those who thought
that it was ok to lie
by those who thought
nothing matters
Innocence taken
no longer available
Innocence unable
to ever speak again
Innocence silenced
to soon
Innocence taken
there's no truth over the lie
Innocence taken
by those who thought
I'll be the same again
by those who thought
its ok to kill
by those who thought
it's ok to take
Innocence replaced
by fear and mistrust
Innocence disappeared
before it came
Innocence taken
by those who
laughed at every cry
by those who had none
Innocence reflecting
a little girls eyes
innocence taken away
without my permission

poem by Kiara Davar
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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:

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poem by George Crabbe
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Land Of Innocence

Nightfall in my childhood,
Memories of my future send
Their scent in my mind...

My life and my feelings now?
A knife through my heart,
Sins that torn apart
The once-innocent mind...

The moon’s glance falls over the
Garden of my childhood,
There, where beauty is still untainted,
When I was as fresh as the morning dew...
I remember those feelings so well,
I keep them hidden in a safe place,
Locked inside my heart!

I believed then in the snowy-egret nymph,
I thought she came to me at night,
And carried me above the water
Through the Danube Delta,
To see the secret lagoons
Covered up by weeping willows,
To see the black swans as they dance,
As they perform a sacred ritual of nature,
To see the pelicans as they sleep.
Gazing at the black egrets,
As the wind smoothes their soft feathers,
To see those black ballerinas
As they all reveal an unknown passion:
The passion for the night!

And my dreams were beautiful then,
My voice was clear and sweet,
My mind was innocent and true,
Not touched by the perverted hand of life...

And it’s true what the nymph said to me,
Looking in my eyes, singing softly to my ear:

“From cradle to coffin,
You shall dream,
You shall wish and hope!
But remember, innocence can never be lost,
You will always have it inside,
Take your memories, put them aside,
And you shall find it
Right there; innocence stays! ”

How can I break away from what I am now,

[...] Read more

poem by Elya Thorn
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