Citatepedia^®.com

I never buy magazines, I never even buy books.

quote by Marc Newson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Make Me Rich

Purchase purchase buy buy
Purchase purchase buy buy
Purchase purchase buy buy
Purchase purchase buy buy.

Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)

'Horns and tambourines'

Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)

'Congas'

Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)
Make me rich
(Purchase purchase buy buy)

' And to the bridge'

Purchase purchase buy buy
Purchase purchase buy buy

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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First Book

OF writing many books there is no end;
And I who have written much in prose and verse
For others' uses, will write now for mine,–
Will write my story for my better self,
As when you paint your portrait for a friend,
Who keeps it in a drawer and looks at it
Long after he has ceased to love you, just
To hold together what he was and is.

I, writing thus, am still what men call young;
I have not so far left the coasts of life
To travel inland, that I cannot hear
That murmur of the outer Infinite
Which unweaned babies smile at in their sleep
When wondered at for smiling; not so far,
But still I catch my mother at her post
Beside the nursery-door, with finger up,
'Hush, hush–here's too much noise!' while her sweet eyes
Leap forward, taking part against her word
In the child's riot. Still I sit and feel
My father's slow hand, when she had left us both,
Stroke out my childish curls across his knee;
And hear Assunta's daily jest (she knew
He liked it better than a better jest)
Inquire how many golden scudi went
To make such ringlets. O my father's hand,
Stroke the poor hair down, stroke it heavily,–
Draw, press the child's head closer to thy knee!
I'm still too young, too young to sit alone.

I write. My mother was a Florentine,
Whose rare blue eyes were shut from seeing me
When scarcely I was four years old; my life,
A poor spark snatched up from a failing lamp
Which went out therefore. She was weak and frail;
She could not bear the joy of giving life–
The mother's rapture slew her. If her kiss
Had left a longer weight upon my lips,
It might have steadied the uneasy breath,
And reconciled and fraternised my soul
With the new order. As it was, indeed,
I felt a mother-want about the world,
And still went seeking, like a bleating lamb
Left out at night, in shutting up the fold,–
As restless as a nest-deserted bird
Grown chill through something being away, though what
It knows not. I, Aurora Leigh, was born
To make my father sadder, and myself
Not overjoyous, truly. Women know
The way to rear up children, (to be just,)

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Revel In The Joy Of Books

Revel in the Joy of books

Revel in the joy of books
On the joy of get hooked
It’s an addiction that’s boredom proof
Indulge, it’s fun to revel in the joy of books

Take up a book and get hooked
Nothing’s wrong with getting hooked on the joy of books
Don’t’ be a fool change your outlook take up a book
Look into the joy of books

Revel in the joy of books
In monotony don’t remain stuck take a journey with a book
Find adventure and excitement in the joy of books
A book will certainly change your gloomy outlook

Take up a boot and leisurely get hooked
Books are enlightening just try reading
Free your imagination with a book allow it to roam freely
Shucks get with the program revel in the joy of books

Books they are boredom proof just revel in the joy of books.

Anthony S.Phillander©280112

Revel in the Joy of books

Revel in the joy of books
On the joy of get hooked
It’s an addiction that’s boredom proof
Indulge, it’s fun to revel in the joy of books

Take up a book and get hooked
Nothing’s wrong with getting hooked on the joy of books
Don’t’ be a fool change your outlook take up a book
Look into the joy of books

Revel in the joy of books
In monotony don’t remain stuck take a journey with a book
Find adventure and excitement in the joy of books
A book will certainly change your gloomy outlook

Take up a boot and leisurely get hooked

[...] Read more

poem by Anthony Shurland Phillander
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Goblin Market

MORNING and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
"Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:
Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpecked cherries-
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,
Swart-headed mulberries,
Wild free-born cranberries,
Crab-apples, dewberries,
Pine-apples, blackberries,
Apricots, strawberries--
All ripe together
In summer weather--
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy, come buy;
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries,
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye,
Come buy, come buy."

Evening by evening
Among the brookside rushes,
Laura bowed her head to hear,
Lizzie veiled her blushes:
Crouching close together
In the cooling weather,
With clasping arms and cautioning lips,
With tingling cheeks and finger-tips.
"Lie close," Laura said,
Pricking up her golden head:
We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?"
"Come buy," call the goblins
Hobbling down the glen.
"O! cried Lizzie, Laura, Laura,
You should not peep at goblin men."

[...] Read more

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Please Don't Buy His Music

Dark rewrite of Rihanna's Please Don't Stop The Music

Please don't buy his music
Please don't buy his music
Please don't buy his music
Please don't buy his music

Before it's too late
I'm got to take a stand
Confess and rock up this place
I gotta stop his cash from flowing
So that I can help to take his drugs away
My somebody boyfriend has got to go back to being a nobody
Or there's no way that I can stay
Rehab candidate for sure, yeah
Never could have knew
Never thought that he would get so caught up
Start striking out at me and our crew
His dirty little habit is making staying so impossible
Poor baby, I used to find him so incredible
Now if he won't go get some help, help
I won't be stayin'
Oh no, I won't

Don't wanna even get me started
All he ever wants to do is party
Always feelin' up those hos out on the dance floor, actin' naughty
Layin' my love and our romance to waste
Hurts so much watchin' my player play
Later I know he's gonna take his hands to my face
Because I dared to confront him
He thinks he'll teach me my place

I just wanna take his drugs away
Escape back into our music, no more hurtin'
Standin' by and watchin' my player play
I just can't go on like this
I refuse to do it
Somehow gotta stop him from dopin' up
So fans I'm beggin' you
Please don't his, please don't buy his music

I just wanna take his drugs away
Escape back into our music, no more hurtin'
Standin' by and watchin' my player play
I just can't go on like this
I refuse to do it
Somehow gotta stop him from dopin' up
So fans I'm beggin' you
Please don't his, please don't buy his music

[...] Read more

poem by Ramona Thompson
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Love Me - Love My Poetry

I once wrote some poetry - the best,
the finest POETRY
My POETRY came with a capital
"P".
My POETRY was distinguished
POETRY, proper, complete line of
Verse POETRY - honorable,
prehistoric, geographical POETRY
Divine, instinctive, even religious
POETRY -
I sent it to the magazines
The very good magazines
The very best magazines -
They returned it to me every time!
I once wrote some inferior POETRY
Low in style, irregular in measure
POETRY
Undignified, trivial, absurd POETRY
inadequate, mischievous, comic
POETRY
Some stuff like this - A CRIME -
I sent it to the magazines
The very good magazines
The very best magazines

They kept it every time!
Now, I ask of you - my question is
fair and brief - I ask
Of you - your ear I pray and beg you
give -
Shall I write intuitive,
comprehensive, reasoning
POETRY
Specific, Godlike, Capitol
committed POETRY
The sort I think will live?
Or shall I write inferior, very bad
POETRY - the kind that soon is
Dead - and send it to the magazines,
the very good, the best magazines
THAT I MAY LIVE INSTEAD!!!

poem by Bonnie Alden Phillips
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Books

The universe (which others call the library). . .
-Jorge Luis Borges

Books which are stitched up the center with coarse white thread
Books on the beach with sunglass-colored pages
Books about food with pictures of weeping grapefruits
Books about baking bread with browned corners
Books about long-haired Frenchmen with uncut pages
Books of erotic engravings with pages that stick
Books about inns whose stars have sputtered out
Books of illuminations surrounded by darkness
Books with blank pages & printed margins
Books with fanatical footnotes in no-point type
Books with book lice
Books with rice-paper pastings
Books with book fungus blooming over their pages
Books with pages of skin with flesh-colored bindings
Books by men in love with the letter O
Books which smell of earth whose pages turn

poem by Erica Jong
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Magazines

you see them everywhere
you know those magazines
yeah I've bought a few
they show you everything

so many news stands
as I'm passing by
but rows and rows of you
are bound to catch my eye

now everyone can gaze upon your body
its good for you - I guess you have no shame
I never knew if how I acted
would make you seek revenge
and now I know
and you're in magazines

but is it really you
in the empty world
I shouldn't be surprised
you're an ambitious girl

with all that naked skin as sweet as honey
Maybe you just really needed money
I wondered if I would be punished for
my voyeuristic pleasure

and now I know
and you're in magazines
and now I know
and you're in magazines
now I know

I tear through pages
of every kind of pose
but its not really you I see
when I look real close
no you're a little bit different
you're a little bit different
you're a little bit different

and now I know
and you're in magazines
now I know
and you're in magazines
I'm alone
and you're in magazines
so it never was you
no

song performed by Duncan Sheik from Daylight
Added by Lucian Velea
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Powerless Money – The Hidden Secret

You can buy bed from money but you cannot buy sleep.
You can satisfy your lust from money but cannot buy love.
You can buy corrupts from money but cannot buy honesty.

You can buy cage for birds but cannot buy there cheerfulness.
You can buy schools for kids but cannot buy there playfulness.

You can build house from money but not a home from money.
You can buy paintings of artists but cannot buy there creativity.

You can buy medicines to kill pain but cannot buy feelings that give pain.
You can buy a coffin for a dead body but cannot buy a life for him.
You can buy flesh and meat to eat but cannot buy a life for them.

You can buy the beautiful flowers but cannot buy fragrance of flowers.
You can buy poems of poet but cannot buy emotions of there heart.
You can do many things with money
still you will see that you are helpless.
Life will no more be graceful
and you will see how money is so powerless.

Money is given power by those who want to rule you.
- By those who want to rule your body and mind.
- By those who want to make you dance as a puppet.
- By those who want to sale your talent in market.

And we are doing all this, making money more and more powerful.
And we forget that money is so powerless, may be we are a big fool.

poem by Ramesh Kavdia
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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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Branded

Buy, buy, buy
Baby, you need it all that’s not a lie

You have the right to smoke a pack
You’re prestige drives a Cadillac
Fragments from your yester-year
Gadgets make you smarter, yeah! !

Buy, buy, buy
Baby, you need it all that’s not a lie

You love to shop and it loves you
It makes sweet hearts say “I do”
You’re cool when you are with the fad
What’s new is good, what’s old is bad

Buy, buy, buy
Baby, you need it all that’s not a lie

A sexy you wears different clothes
Your status, everyone will know
You’re young and you’re teeming with fire
Your lifestyle’s beaming with desire

Buy, buy, buy
Baby, you need it all that’s not a lie

To be a better woman or man
You must buy, buy, buy, buy all you can
You’ve just been branded like a cow
Don’t be mad, look who’s laughing now!
Buy, buy, buy
Baby, here's a bottle, go out and cry

poem by P.R. Prosper
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Buy For Me The Rain

Buy for me the rain, my darling, buy for me the rain;
Buy for me the crystal pools that fall upon the plain.
And Ill buy for you a rainbow and a million pots of gold.
Buy it for me now, babe, before I am too old.
Buy for me the sun, my darling, buy for me the sun;
Buy for me the light that falls when day has just begun.
And Ill buy for you a shadow to protect you from the day.
Buy it for me now, babe, before I go away.
Buy for me the robin, darling, buy for me the wing;
Buy for me a sparrow, almost any flying thing.
And Ill buy for you a tree, my love, where a robins nest may grow.
Buy it for me now, babe, the years all hurry so.
I cannot buy you happiness, I cannot by you years;
I cannot buy you happiness, in place of all the tears.
But I can buy for you a gravestone, to lay behind your head.
Gravestones cheer the living, dear, theyre no use to the dead.

song performed by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Added by Lucian Velea
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Buy Me A Condo

Gonna buy me a condo
Gonna buy me a cuisinart
Get a wall-to-wall carpeting
Get a wallet full o credit cards
I gonna buy me a condo, never have to mow de lawn
I gonna get me da t-shirt wit de alligator on
Wo, used to live in jamaica but I dont live dere no more
Had to change me lifestyle
Do tings I never done before
So now Im just a lonely rastaman
Living in dis american town
Gonna sell me bob marley records
Gonna get me some jackson browne
I gonna buy me a condo
Gonna buy me a cuisinart
Get a wall-to-wall carpeting
And get a wallet full o credit cards, eh
I gonna buy me a condo, never have to mow de lawn
I gonna get me da t-shirt wit de alligator on
Wo, gonna cut off me dreadlocks
Trow away all me ganja
Ill have a tupperware party
Maybe join me a health spa
Ill get a bowl of plastic fruits
And a microwave oven, too
Then Ill have the neighbors over for a weenie barbeque
Gonna buy me a condo
Gonna buy me a cuisinart
Get a wall-to-wall carpeting
Get a wallet full o credit cards, oh
I gonna buy me a condo, never have to mow de lawn
I get a funny little t-shirt wit de alligator on
Aint gonna work in de field no more
Gonna be amway distributor
Aint gonna work in de field no more (no, no)
Gonna be amway distributor
(ja) ja, ja, ja, life is so very hard
I need a (ja) ja, ja, ja jacuzi in me back yard
Oh, I gonna buy me a condo
Gonna buy me a cuisinart
Get a wall-to-wall carpeting
Get a wallet full o credit cards, eh
I gonna buy me a condo, never have to mow de lawn
I gonna get me da t-shirt wit de alligator on
Whatd you say?
I gonna buy me a condo
I gonna buy me a cuisinart
Get a wall-to-wall carpeting
Get a wallet full o credit cards, oh
I gonna buy me a condo, never have to mow de lawn

[...] Read more

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Flowers

To our private taste, there is always something a little exotic,
almost artificial, in songs which, under an English aspect and dress,
are yet so manifestly the product of other skies. They affect us
like translations; the very fauna and flora are alien, remote;
the dog's-tooth violet is but an ill substitute for the rathe primrose,
nor can we ever believe that the wood-robin sings as sweetly in April
as the English thrush. -- THE ATHEN]AEUM.



Buy my English posies!
Kent and Surrey may --
Violets of the Undercliff
Wet with Channel spray;
Cowslips from a Devon combe --
Midland furze afire --
Buy my English posies
And I'll sell your heart's desire!

Buy my English posies!
You that scorn the May,
Won't you greet a friend from home
Half the world away?
Green against the draggled drift,
Faint and frail and first --
Buy my Northern blood-root
And I'll know where you were nursed:
Robin down the logging-road whistles, "Come to me!"
Spring has found the maple-grove, the sap is running free;
All the winds of Canada call the ploughing-rain.
Take the flower and turn the hour, and kiss your love again!

Buy my English posies!
Here's to match your need --
Buy a tuft of royal heath,
Buy a bunch of weed
White as sand of Muysenberg
Spun before the gale --
Buy my heath and lilies
And I'll tell you whence you hail!
Under hot Constantia broad the vineyards lie --
Throned and thorned the aching berg props the speckless sky --
Slow below the Wynberg firs trails the tilted wain --
Take the flower and turn the hour, and kiss your love again!

Buy my English posies!
You that will not turn --
Buy my hot-wood clematis,
Buy a frond o' fern
Gathered where the Erskine leaps

[...] Read more

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Can't Buy Me Love

Can't buy me love... love
Can't buy me love
I'll buy diamond ring my friend
If it makes you feel alright
I'll get you anything my friend
If it makes you feel alright
I don't care too much money
Money can't buy me love

I'll give you what I've got to give
If you say you love me too
I may not have a lot to give
What all I've got I'll give to you
I don't care too much for money
Money can't buy me love
Can't buy me love
Everybody tells me so
Can't buy me love
No, no, no, no, no, no

Say you don't need no diamond ring
And I'll be satisfied
Tell me that you want the kind of things
That money just can't buy(tell me baby)
Cause I don't care too much for money
Money can't buy me love
Oh yeah... oh
No, no, no, no
Money can't buy me love
Can't buy me love
Everybody tells me so
Can't buy me love
No, no, no, no

Say you don't need no diamond ring
And I'll be satisfied
Tell me that you want the kind of things
Money just can't buy(just can't buy)
Cause I don; t care too much for money
Money can't buy love
Can't buy me love... love
Can't buy me love

poem by Jojo Jonna
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Second Hand Books

Books! Books! Books! There are so many different designs.
There are some which, by the author, are personally signed.
Some books have pages with gilt edges, which look all posh.
Some have nice pictures on their covers, which are embossed.

Some books have hard covers, while some have soft.
Some are all dusty, where they’ve been kept in the loft.
Some books have fancy covers; some just have plain.
Some have suffered mishaps, and are now all stained.

Some books are all dog-eared at the corners of their pages.
Some have gone yellow, where they’ve been around ages.
Inside some books, there can be seen a pencilled name;
Someone, who once, on this particular book, had a claim.

Some are obviously well read; their spines are all creased.
From out of a book, amazing adventures can be unleashed.
Some books have pages which are spoiled or a bit torn.
Some have covers which are grubby and look well worn.

Some just have text, while others also include illustrations.
Some are former prize winners; once the toast of the nation.
There are books by famous authors, as well as the lesser known.
Some are former library books which, to the public, were loaned.

There are romances, poetry, classics, sci-fi, humour, and histories;
Gardening, cookery, travel, thrillers, manga, and murder mysteries.
In wooden bookcases, the books are categorised, and are neatly lined.
In a second hand bookshop, you just never know what you may find.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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She Doesn't Use Jelly

i know a girl who thinks of ghosts
she'll make ya breakfast
she'll make ya toast
she don't use butter
she don't use cheese
she don't use jelly
or any of these
she uses vaseline
vaseline
vaseline
i know a guy who goes to shows
when he's at home and he blows his nose
he don't use tissues or his sleeve
he don't use napkins or any of these
he uses magazines
magazines
magazines
magazines
magazines
i know a girl who reminds me of cher
(reminds me of cher)
she's always changing
(she's always changing)
the color of her hair
(color of her hair)
she don't use nothing
that ya buy at the store
she likes her hair to be real orange
she uses tangerines
tangerines
tangerines
tangerines
tangerines
tangerines

song performed by Flaming Lips
Added by Lucian Velea
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She Dont Use Jelly

I know a girl who thinks of ghosts
Shell make ya breakfast
Shell make ya toast
She dont use butter
She dont use cheese
She dont use jelly
Or any of these
She uses vaseline
Vaseline
Vaseline
I know a guy who goes to shows
When hes at home and he blows his nose
He dont use tissues or his sleeve
He dont use napkins or any of these
He uses magazines
Magazines
Magazines
Magazines
Magazines
I know a girl who reminds me of cher
(reminds me of cher)
Shes always changing
(shes always changing)
The color of her hair
(color of her hair)
She dont use nothing
That ya buy at the store
She likes her hair to be real orange
She uses tangerines
Tangerines
Tangerines
Tangerines
Tangerines
Tangerines

song performed by Flaming Lips
Added by Lucian Velea
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Split Seconds

SPLIT SECONDS
Open your eyes
Take a look around you
You light me up
Like I'm some kind of saint
If black and white
were the only colours
if you and I
were the only ones
Trying to buy some time
I'd try to buy split seconds
Trying to buy some time
I'd try to buy split seconds
I open my eyes
and fear it 's not the last time
You set me up
like I'm some kind of fool
Trying to buy some time
I try to buy split seconds
Trying to buy some time
I try to buy
the scars to prove that
we're not the only ones
the scars to prove that
I am
that I am
Trying to buy some time
I try to buy split seconds
Trying to buy some time
I try to buy split seconds
Trying to buy some time
I try to buy split seconds
Trying to buy
Trying to buy

song performed by Zeromancer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Five Foot One

Yeah, I like it
Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!
I'm only five foot one
I got a pain in my neck
I'm looking up in the city
What the hell what the heck
I stare at the concrete
The girders eye high
The steel's above me
There's love in my eyes
And I'm doing the things
A five foot one man can do
I'm only five foot one
I got a pain in my heart
All the night I'm working
In the amusement park
With a bottle of aspirin
A sack full of jokes
I wish I could go home
With all the big folks
And I wish life could be
Swedish magazines
I wish life could be
Swedish magazines
I wish life could be
Anything
Ugh! Aie! Aie! Aie!
Ugh!
I'm only five foot one
Unless the time has come
I won't grow anymore
Anymore, anymore, anymore
'Till I'm losing my head
I'm checkin' it twice
I'm gonna find out who's naughty and nice
And I'm doing the things a five foot one man can do
I wish life could be Swedish magazines(x3)
I wish life could be
Yeah, I wish life could be
Oooooooooohhh
I wish life could be
I wish life could be Swedish magazines
I wish life could be Swedish magazines
I wish life could be
I won't grow anymore(x3)
Anymore, anymore, anymore, anymore, anymore
I'm only five foot one(x3)
I'm five foot one

song performed by Iggy Pop
Added by Lucian Velea
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