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So I, I knew something in a business sense about semiconductors and I appreciated their possibilities.

quote by Arthur Rock
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The Believer's Principles : Chap. IV.

Faith and Sense Natural, compared and distinguished.

When Abram's body, Sarah's womb,
Were ripe for nothing but the tomb,
Exceeding old, and wholly dead,
Unlike to bear the promis'd seed:

Faith said, 'I shall an Isaac see;'
'No, no,' said Sense, 'it cannot be;'
Blind Reason, to augment the strife,
Adds, 'How can death engender life?'

My heart is like a rotten tomb,
More dead than ever Sarah's womb;
O! can the promis'd seed of grace
Spring forth from such a barren place?

Sense gazing but on flinty rocks,
My hope and expectation chokes:
But could I, skill'd in Abram's art,
O'erlook my dead and barren heart;

And build my hope on nothing less
That divine pow'r and faithfulness;
Soon would I find him raise up sons
To Abram, out of rocks and stones.

Faith acts as busy boatmen do,
Who backward look and forward row;
It looks intent to things unseen,
Thinks objects visible too mean.

Sense thinks it madness thus to steer,
And only trusts its eye and ear;
Into faith's boat dare thrust its oar,
And put it further from the shore.

Faith does alone the promise eye;
Sense won't believe unless it see;
Nor can it trust the divine guide,
Unless it have both wind and tide.

Faith thinks the promise sure and good;
Sense doth depend on likelihood;
Faith ev'n in storms believes the seers;
Sense calls all men, ev'n prophets, liars.

Faith uses means, but rests on none;
Sense sails when outward means are gone:

[...] Read more

poem by Ralph Erskine
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Mind Your Own Business

Mind Your Own Business
(Words and music by Hank Williams, Sr.)
If the wife and I was fussin', brother that's our right
Me and that ole woman bought a license to fight
Why don't you mind your own business(Mind your own business)
Yeah,mind your own business(Mind your own business)
If youmind your own business, you won't be mindin' mine.
Well, the woman on the party line's a nosey thing
She picks up her receiver when she knows it's my ring
Why don't you mind your own business(Mind your own business)
Yeah, mind your own business(Mind your own business)
If you mind your own business, you won't be mindin' mine.
--- Instrumental with ad libs ---
Well, I got a little girl that wears her hair up high
The boys all hollar when she walks by
Why don't you mind your own business(Mind your own business)
Yeah, mind your own business(Mind your own business)
Just mind your own business, you wont be mindin' mine.
--- Instrumental with ad libs ---
I may tell a lot of stories that may not be true
But I can get to Heaven just as easy as you
Why don't you mind your own business(Mind your own business)
Yeah, will you mind your own business(Mind your own business)
Mind your business, and you won't be mindin' mine.
--- Instrumental with ad libs ---
Now, If I want to honky tonk 'til around two or three
Darlin' that's my headache, don't you worry 'bout me.
Why don't you mind your own business(Mind your own business)
Go on and mind your own business(Mind your own business)
If you're mindin' your business, you won't be mindin' mine.
--- Instrumental---
Mindin' other people's business seems to be high-toned
Well, I got all that I can do just to mind my own
Mind your own business(Mind your own business)
Yeah, mind your own business(Mind your own business)
If you mind your businessmyou won't be mindin' mine.
Dear Lord, If you mind your business, you'll be busy all the time...

song performed by Alan Jackson
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Too Much Monkey Business

Salesman talking to me tried to run me up a creek
Says you can buy it, go on try it, you can pay me next week
Uh-uh, too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in
Oh-ho-ho
Blonde haired, good lookin tryin to get me hooked
Wants me to marry, settle down and get a home and and write a book
Uh-uh, too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in
Oh-ho-ho
Pay phone, somethin wrong, dial gone,
Well me ought to sue the operator for tellin me a tale
Uh-uh, too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in
Oh-ho-ho
Oh-ho-ho ...... oh-ho-ho ...... oh-ho-ho ...... oh-ho-ho
Been to vietnam, been a fightin in the war
Army bar, army chow, army clothes, army car
Uh-uh, too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in
Oh-ho-ho
Workin in the fillin station, too many tasks
Wipe the windo, check the tires, check the oil, dollar gas
Uh-uh, too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in
Oh-ho-ho
Blonde haired, good lookin tryin to get me hooked
Wants me to marry, get a home, settle down and and write a book
Uh-uh, too much monkey business, too much monkey business
Too much monkey business for me to be involved in
Oh-ho-ho
Too much monkey business, oh-ho-ho, too much monkey business, oh-ho-ho
Too much monkey business, oh-ho-ho too much monkey business, oh-ho-ho
Too much monkey business, oh-ho-ho too much monkey business, oh-ho-ho

song performed by Elvis Presley, music by Chuck Berry, lyrics by Chuck Berry
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I Have A Woman Inside My Soul

I have a woman inside my soul,
Her eyes sombre and sad.
She waves her hand to try to reach me,
But I cant hear what she says.
I wish I knew what she says,
I wish I knew what she wants,
I wish I knew what she says to me,
I wish I knew what she means to me.
I see an asphalt road inside my soul,
Its pale even in a warm summers day.
It stretches into the mist and calls me,
But I dont know what it takes.
I wish I knew what it takes, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it gives, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it says to me, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it means to me. (I wish I knew)
I see a tombstone inside my soul,
Its old and mossy, covered in dead leaves.
It stands with an engraving on it surface,
But I dont know what it reads.
I wish I knew what it reads, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it says, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it says to me, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it means to me. (I wish I knew)
(yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, hey)
I feel snow covering inside my soul,
Its hard and shining in shades of grey.
No footsteps ever made their marks,
And I dont know when it melts.
I wish I knew when it melts, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew when it happens, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew if it happens at all, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it means to me. (I wish I knew)
I hear a stream running inside my soul,
Its cold and clear and carries a tune.
But I dont know what it sings and tells,
I dont know where it goes.
I wish I knew what it sings,
I wish I knew where it goes,
I wish I knew what it sings, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew where it goes, (I wish I knew)
I wish I knew what it sings. (I wish I knew)
(I wish I knew)
(I wish I knew) (yeah!)
(I wish I knew)
(I wish I knew)

song performed by Yoko Ono
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Too Much Monkey Business

Running to and fro,
Hard working at the mill,
Never failed at the mill,
There come a rotten bill.
Aw too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business
For me to be involved again.
Salesman talking to me,
Trying to run me up a creek,
Says you can buy it, go on try it,
You can pay me next week.
Aw too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business
For me to be involved again.
Blonde hair, good-looking,
Trying to get me hooked and married
Get a home, settle down by the book.
Too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business
For me to be involved again.
Been to yokohama, baby,
Fighting in the war,
Army bunk, army chow,
Army clothes, army car.
Too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business
For me to be involved again.
Same thing every day,
Getting up, going to school.
No need for me complaining,
My objection's overruled.
Aw too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business
For me to be involved again.
Working in the filling station,
Too many tasks,
Wipe the windows, check the oil,
Check the tires, dollar gas?
Aw too much monkey business,
Too much monkey business
Don't want you by the race,
Get away and leave me.
[original has one more verse:
Pay-phone, something's wrong,
Dime gone, will mail.

[...] Read more

song performed by Beatles
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It Makes More Sense

It makes more sense,
Stopping something not to start.
Yes it makes more sense,
Not to tear things all apart.
Or bring up filthy garbage,
Knowing it is just a farce.

It makes more sense,
To walk away than to be petty.
And it makes more sense,
To prevent a thumping headache.
And it makes more sense,
Not to argue with a fool.
Knowing this is something done,
Many fools love to do.

And it makes more sense,
Stopping something not to start.
Yes it makes more sense,
Not to tear things all apart.
Or bring up filthy garbage,
Knowing it is just a farce.
And it makes more sense,
Not to argue with a fool.
Knowing this is something done,
Fools love to do.

And it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To chase all bitterness away.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.

And it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To chase all bitterness away.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.

Yes it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.
Yes it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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An Essay on Criticism

Part I

INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.

'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence
To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose;
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well;
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not Critics to their judgment too?

Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right:
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.

Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd;
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last.
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,

[...] Read more

poem by Alexander Pope
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Love Is Our Business

Dont' need a vacation to get work off our minds
Me and my baby we beg for overtime
We'd stay on the clock 'round the clock if we could
Love is our business and business is good
Love is our business and business is booming
It don't seem like work 'cause we love what we're doing
Satisfaction guaranteed and that's understanding
Love is our business and business is good
We keep climbing higher on the ladder of success
Who'd want to retire with benefits like this
Don't even close on Christmas even though we know we should
Love is our business and business is good
Love is our business and business is booming
It don't seem like work 'cause we love what we're doing
Satisfaction guaranteed and that's understanding
Love is our business and business is good
Yeah, love is our business and business is booming
It don't seem like work 'cause we love what we're doing
Satisfaction guaranteed and that's understanding
Love is our business and business is good
Satisfaction guaranteed and that's understanding
Love is our business and business is good

song performed by John Michael Montgomery
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Song of the Dardanelles

The Wireless tells and the cable tells
How our boys behaved by the Dardanelles.
Some thought in their hearts “Will our boys make good?”
We knew them of old and we knew they would!
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
We were mates of old and we knew they would.
They laughed and they larked and they loved likewise,
For blood is warm under Southern skies;
They knew not Pharoah (’tis understood),
And they got into scrapes, as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
And they got into scrapes, as we knew they would.

They chafed in the dust of an old dead land
At the long months’ drill in the scorching sand;
But they knew in their hearts it was for their good,
And they saw it through as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
And they saw it through as we knew they would.

The Coo-ee called through the Mena Camp,
And an army roared like the Ocean’s tramp
On a gale-swept beach in her wildest mood,
Till the Pyramids shook as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would.
(And the Sphinx woke up as we knew she would.)

They were shipped like sheep when the dawn was grey;
(But their officers knew that no lambs were they).
They squatted and perched where’er they could,
And they “blanky-ed” for joy as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
They “blanky-ed” for joy as we knew they would.

The sea was hell and the shore was hell,
With mine, entanglement, shrapnel and shell,
But they stormed the heights as Australians should,
And they fought and they died as we knew they would.
Knew they would—
Knew they would;
They fought and they died as we knew they would.

From the southern hills and the city lanes,
From the sandwaste lone and the Blacksoil Plains;
The youngest and strongest of England’s brood!—

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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Snow White Was Prettier

Oh wicked step sister
What makes you think your so special?
What are the possibilities that snow white is just a little prettier?

Claim to be the best,
but your like all the rest.
Using till their is no one left.
Choose him over him.
Oh the daily swim
Sex all the way.
Multiple partners.
Sometimes three a day.

Oh wicked step sister
What makes you think your so special?
What are the possibilities that snow white is just a little prettier?

Hey is it your birthday?
I totally forgot and I don't even why.
Maybe it is because your little brother has never known you.
We have the same god damn father.
Sad to say.
But we are twisted in the same way.
Freaks of nature.
Lets get angry and throw all the furniture.

Oh wicked step sister
What makes you think your so special?
What are the possibilities that snow white is just a little prettier?

Always got to bad mouth someone.
Each an every member of your family.
They have nothing but contempt for you.
But I never noticed
Cause I never even seen your face
Not a single day of my child hood.
Yet you think you know me well enough.
See that finger, yeah its not my thumb.
That's to you for ever thinking that I would be that dumb.

Oh wicked step sister
What makes you think your so special?
What are the possibilities that snow white is just a little prettier?

Help?
You got be joking.
What have been smoking?
It has completely messed up your head.
Remember your little brother is dead.
He killed himself while you were looking the other way.

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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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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The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Mind Your Own Business

Words and music by hank williams, sr.
If the [d] wife and I are fussin, brother thats our right
cause me and that sweet womans got a license to fight [d7]
Why dont you [g7] mind your own business
(mind [d] your own business)
cause if mind [a7] your business, then you wont be mindin [d] mine.
Oh, the woman on our party lines the nosiest thing
She picks up her receiver when she knows its my ring
Why dont you mind your own business
(mind your own business)
Well, if mind your business, then you wont be mindin mine.
If my woman stay out til two or three
Now, brother thats my headache, dont you worry bout me.
Just mind your own business
(mind your own business)
If mind your business, then you wont be mindin mine.
If I get my head beat black and blue
Now thats my wife and my stove wood too
Just mind your own business
(mind your own business)
If mind your business, then you wont be mindin mine.
I got a little gal that wears her hair up high,
The boys all whistel when she walks bye.
Mind your own buisness blah blah, you sure wont be minding mine.
Mindin other peoples business seems to be high-toned
I got all that I can do just to mind my own
Why dont you mind your own business
(mind your own business)
If you mind your own business, youll stay busy all the time.

song performed by Hank Williams
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Bride's Prelude

“Sister,” said busy Amelotte
To listless Aloÿse;
“Along your wedding-road the wheat
Bends as to hear your horse's feet,
And the noonday stands still for heat.”
Amelotte laughed into the air
With eyes that sought the sun:
But where the walls in long brocade
Were screened, as one who is afraid
Sat Aloÿse within the shade.
And even in shade was gleam enough
To shut out full repose
From the bride's 'tiring-chamber, which
Was like the inner altar-niche
Whose dimness worship has made rich.
Within the window's heaped recess
The light was counterchanged
In blent reflexes manifold
From perfume-caskets of wrought gold
And gems the bride's hair could not hold,
All thrust together: and with these
A slim-curved lute, which now,
At Amelotte's sudden passing there,
Was swept in somewise unaware,
And shook to music the close air.
Against the haloed lattice-panes
The bridesmaid sunned her breast;
Then to the glass turned tall and free,
And braced and shifted daintily
Her loin-belt through her côte-hardie.
The belt was silver, and the clasp
Of lozenged arm-bearings;
A world of mirrored tints minute
The rippling sunshine wrought into 't,
That flushed her hand and warmed her foot.
At least an hour had Aloÿse—
Her jewels in her hair—
Her white gown, as became a bride,
Quartered in silver at each side—
Sat thus aloof, as if to hide.
Over her bosom, that lay still,
The vest was rich in grain,
With close pearls wholly overset:
Around her throat the fastenings met
Of chevesayle and mantelet.
Her arms were laid along her lap
With the hands open: life
Itself did seem at fault in her:
Beneath the drooping brows, the stir
Of thought made noonday heavier.

[...] Read more

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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You Run Your Mouth (And I'll Run My Business)

(words and music by Armstrong)
Who doubt say, who doubt when I say, who doubt...
You cats keep beetin' up your chops
I had turn you over to the cops
I dig this spiel I'm going way on your gate
Don't cop your broom pop or buddy or mate
You run your mouth and I'll run my business brother
You run your mouth and I'll run my business brother
You tell everybody I'm busted
You talk so much you got me disgusted
You run your mouth and I'll run my business brother
Yeh, you run your mouth and I'll run my business brother
You run your mouth and I'll run my business brother
You start up telling me you're my pal
End up telling how to handle my gal
You run your mouth and I'll run my business brother
You run your juicy mouth and I'll run my business brother
You run your juicy mouth and I'll run my business brother
You're always telling me what to do
Saying "I wouldn't do that if I was you"
You run your mouth and I'll run my business brother
(instrumental break)
You clamp your liver lips and I'll run my business brother
Just clamp your liver lips and I'll run my business brother
If I follows your advice on how to make dough
I'd been in the jailhouse long ago
You run your mouth and I'll run my business brother
Yeh, you run your juicy mouth and I'll run my business brother
Just you run your mouth and I'll run my business brother
You tell everybody I'm busted
You talk so much you got me disgusted
You run your mouth and I'll run my business brother
(C) Music Sales Corp.

song performed by Joe Jackson
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You Run Your Mouth

Who doubt say, who doubt when i say, who doubt...
You cats keep beetin' up your chops
I had turn you over to the cops
I dig this spiel i'm going way on your gate
Don't cop your broom pop or buddy or mate
You run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
You run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
You tell everybody i'm busted
You talk so much you got me disgusted
You run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
Yeh, you run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
You run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
You start up telling me you're my pal
End up telling how to handle my gal
You run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
You run your juicy mouth and i'll run my business brother
You run your juicy mouth and i'll run my business brother
You're always telling me what to do
Saying "i wouldn't do that if i was you"
You run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
You clamp your liver lips and i'll run my business brother
Just clamp your liver lips and i'll run my business brother
If i follows your advice on how to make dough
I'd been in the jailhouse long ago
You run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
Yeh, you run your juicy mouth and i'll run my business brother
Just you run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
You tell everybody i'm busted
You talk so much you got me disgusted
You run your mouth and i'll run my business brother

song performed by Joe Jackson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Nobodys Business

Hey, if youre moving too fast
Dont you want this thing last
But if you start moving slow and -
Hey, pretty mama, you just will have to go, because -
Its nobodys business but my own
Its nobodys business but my own
No-no-no-no-no-no-no, no-no-no-no, no-no-no
No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no, no-no-no-no, no-no-no
But if you start acting mean
Then Ill have to mess up the scene
But if you start treating me nice
Hey, now baby, Im gonna have to raise your price
Because its nobodys business but my own
Its nobodys business but my own
No-no-no-no-no-no-no, no-no-no-no, no-no-no
No-no-no-no, no-no-no, no-no-no
Nobodys business
Nobodys business, come on now
Hey, nobodys business, yeah, but my own
Nobodys business, oh, my, no-no-no
Nobodys business, no-no-no-no-no
Hey, nobodys business, yeah, but my own
Nobodys business, my own
No-no, no-no-no
No-no-no, no-no-no
Nobodys business
Nobodys business
Nobodys business
Nobodys business, but my own, now
...

song performed by Lou Reed
Added by Lucian Velea
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Avon's Harvest

Fear, like a living fire that only death
Might one day cool, had now in Avon’s eyes
Been witness for so long of an invasion
That made of a gay friend whom we had known
Almost a memory, wore no other name
As yet for us than fear. Another man
Than Avon might have given to us at least
A futile opportunity for words
We might regret. But Avon, since it happened,
Fed with his unrevealing reticence
The fire of death we saw that horribly
Consumed him while he crumbled and said nothing.

So many a time had I been on the edge,
And off again, of a foremeasured fall
Into the darkness and discomfiture
Of his oblique rebuff, that finally
My silence honored his, holding itself
Away from a gratuitous intrusion
That likely would have widened a new distance
Already wide enough, if not so new.
But there are seeming parallels in space
That may converge in time; and so it was
I walked with Avon, fought and pondered with him,
While he made out a case for So-and-so,
Or slaughtered What’s-his-name in his old way,
With a new difference. Nothing in Avon lately
Was, or was ever again to be for us,
Like him that we remembered; and all the while
We saw that fire at work within his eyes
And had no glimpse of what was burning there.

So for a year it went; and so it went
For half another year—when, all at once,
At someone’s tinkling afternoon at home
I saw that in the eyes of Avon’s wife
The fire that I had met the day before
In his had found another living fuel.
To look at her and then to think of him,
And thereupon to contemplate the fall
Of a dim curtain over the dark end
Of a dark play, required of me no more
Clairvoyance than a man who cannot swim
Will exercise in seeing that his friend
Off shore will drown except he save himself.
To her I could say nothing, and to him
No more than tallied with a long belief
That I should only have it back again
For my chagrin to ruminate upon,
Ingloriously, for the still time it starved;

[...] Read more

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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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;

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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The Victories Of Love. Book II

I
From Jane To Her Mother

Thank Heaven, the burthens on the heart
Are not half known till they depart!
Although I long'd, for many a year,
To love with love that casts out fear,
My Frederick's kindness frighten'd me,
And heaven seem'd less far off than he;
And in my fancy I would trace
A lady with an angel's face,
That made devotion simply debt,
Till sick with envy and regret,
And wicked grief that God should e'er
Make women, and not make them fair.
That he might love me more because
Another in his memory was,
And that my indigence might be
To him what Baby's was to me,
The chief of charms, who could have thought?
But God's wise way is to give nought
Till we with asking it are tired;
And when, indeed, the change desired
Comes, lest we give ourselves the praise,
It comes by Providence, not Grace;
And mostly our thanks for granted pray'rs
Are groans at unexpected cares.
First Baby went to heaven, you know,
And, five weeks after, Grace went, too.
Then he became more talkative,
And, stooping to my heart, would give
Signs of his love, which pleased me more
Than all the proofs he gave before;
And, in that time of our great grief,
We talk'd religion for relief;
For, though we very seldom name
Religion, we now think the same!
Oh, what a bar is thus removed
To loving and to being loved!
For no agreement really is
In anything when none's in this.
Why, Mother, once, if Frederick press'd
His wife against his hearty breast,
The interior difference seem'd to tear
My own, until I could not bear
The trouble. 'Twas a dreadful strife,
And show'd, indeed, that faith is life.
He never felt this. If he did,
I'm sure it could not have been hid;
For wives, I need not say to you,

[...] Read more

poem by Coventry Patmore
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