Purr - Sonic Youth
Cannonball - The Breeders
Bone Machine - Pixies
Train Fare Home - Muddy Waters
I Want You - Cabaret Voltaire
Fulwood Babylon - The Long Blondes
Into the Garden - Artery
I'd Rather Be With You - Bootsy Collins
Fallen Time - Dark Bells
Haunting at 1300 McKinley - The Black Angels
Wisdom - The Brian Jonestown Massacre
Ashes To Ashes - Warpaint
expensive karma - the ether
Jager Yoda - CSS
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By Sophocles (Tr. F. Storr)
(Str. 1) Many wonders there be, but naught more wondrous than man;
Over the surging sea, with a whitening south wind wan,
Through the foam of the firth, man makes his perilous way;
And the eldest of deities Earth that knows not toil nor decay
Ever he furrows and scores, as his team, year in year out,
With breed of the yoked horse, the ploughshare turneth about.
(Ant. 1) The light-witted birds of the air, the beasts of the weald and the wood
He traps with his woven snare, and the brood of the briny flood.
Master of cunning he: the savage bull, and the hart
Who roams the mountain free, are tamed by his infinite art;
And the shaggy rough-maned steed is broken to bear the bit.
(Str. 2) Speech and the wind-swift speed of counsel and civic wit,
He hath learnt for himself all these; and the arrowy rain to fly
And the nipping airs that freeze, 'neath the open winter sky.
He hath provision for all: fell plague he hath learnt to endure;
Safe whate'er may befall: yet for death he hath found no cure.
(Ant. 2) Passing the wildest flight thought are the cunning and skill,
That guide man now to the light, but now to counsels of ill.
If he honors the laws of the land, and reveres the Gods of the State
Proudly his city shall stand; but a cityless outcast I rate
Whoso bold in his pride from the path of right doth depart;
Ne'er may I sit by his side, or share the thoughts of his heart.
"Love that doth reign and live within my thought"
by Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey (1517-1547)
Tr. from Petrarch’s Sonnet 140
Love that doth reign and live within my thought
And built his seat within my captive breast,
Clad in arms wherein with me he fought,
Oft in my face he doth his banner rest.
But she that taught me love and suffer pain,
My doubtful hope and eke my hot desire
With shamefaced look to shadow and refrain,
Her smiling grace converteth straight to ire.
And coward Love, then, to the heart apace
Taketh his flight, where he doth lurk and 'plain,
His purpose lost, and dare not show his face.
For my lord's guilt thus faultless bide I pain,
Yet from my lord shall not my foot remove,--
Sweet is the death that taketh end by love.