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Post by A comet crashing into Earth on Jul 10, 2018 12:12:39 GMT -5
"Don’t ascribe to evil what can be attributed to well-intentioned stupidity." I like this sentiment.
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Post by Foxy on Aug 13, 2018 8:57:53 GMT -5
"Unlike television, nature does not steal time; it amplifies it."
- Richard Louv, Last Child in the Woods
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Post by Reba on Nov 18, 2018 20:17:29 GMT -5
it's proust again baby. look at this preposterous sentence
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Post by Poe's Coats Host Toast on Mar 25, 2019 1:01:48 GMT -5
- The Raging Tide:or, The Black Doll's Imbroglio, by Edward Gorey
It's the best sentence in terms of sounding hilarious.
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Post by Foxy on Apr 29, 2019 9:20:15 GMT -5
"So Carmen is great, Carmen is a wonder, and anyone who don't like Carmen don't like opera and should look elsewhere for musical excitement and perhaps will find it in the works of Adlgasser, Scriabin or Thelonius Monk."
- Sir Denis Forman, A Night at the Opera
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Post by Reba on Apr 30, 2019 23:24:55 GMT -5
all of those are good tho
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Post by Reba on May 1, 2019 0:01:13 GMT -5
one for all my classicist bros ὡς δ᾽ ὅτε τις στατὸς ἵππος ἀκοστήσας ἐπὶ φάτνῃ δεσμὸν ἀπορρήξας θείῃ πεδίοιο κροαίνων εἰωθὼς λούεσθαι ἐϋρρεῖος ποταμοῖο κυδιόων: ὑψοῦ δὲ κάρη ἔχει, ἀμφὶ δὲ χαῖται ὤμοις ἀΐσσονται: ὃ δ᾽ ἀγλαΐηφι πεποιθὼς ῥίμφά ἑ γοῦνα φέρει μετά τ᾽ ἤθεα καὶ νομὸν ἵππων: ὣς υἱὸς Πριάμοιο Πάρις κατὰ Περγάμου ἄκρης τεύχεσι παμφαίνων ὥς τ᾽ ἠλέκτωρ ἐβεβήκει καγχαλόων, ταχέες δὲ πόδες φέρον. And as a fair steed, proud With full-giv'n mangers, long tied up, and now, his head stall broke, He breaks from stable, runs the field, and with an ample stroke Measures the centre, neighs, and lifts aloft his wanton head, About his shoulders shakes his crest, and where he hath been fed, Or in some calm flood wash'd, or, stung with his high plight, he flies Amongst his females, strength put forth, his beauty beautifies, And, like life's mirror, bears his gait; so Paris from the tow'r Of lofty Pergamus came forth; he show'd a sun-like pow'r In carriage of his goodly parts, address'd now to the strife. The wanton courser thus with reins unbound Breaks from his stall, and beats the trembling ground; Pamper'd and proud, he seeks the wonted tides, And laves, in height of blood his shining sides; His head now freed, he tosses to the skies; His mane dishevell'd o'er his shoulders flies; He snuffs the females in the distant plain, And springs, exulting, to his fields again. With equal triumph, sprightly, bold, and gay, In arms refulgent as the god of day, The son of Priam, glorying in his might, Rush'd forth with Hector to the fields of fight. As a horse, stabled and fed, breaks loose and gallops gloriously over the plain to the place where he is wont to bathe in the fair-flowing river- he holds his head high, and his mane streams upon his shoulders as he exults in his strength and flies like the wind to the haunts and feeding ground of the mares- even so went forth Paris from high Pergamus, gleaming like sunlight in his armour, and he laughed aloud as he sped swiftly on his way. As when some stalled horse who has been corn-fed at the manger breaking free of his rope gallops over the plain in thunder to his accustomed bathing place in a sweet-running river and in the pride of his strength holds high his head, and the mane floats over his shoulders; sure of his glorious strength, the quick knees carry him to the loved places and the pasture of horses; so from uttermost Pergamos came Paris, the son of Priam, shining in all his armor of war as the sun shines, laughing aloud, and his quick feet carried him.
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Post by Foxy on Jul 9, 2019 10:11:05 GMT -5
"Fools give vent to their rage, but the wise bring calm in the end." - Hebrew Proverb
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Post by Reba on Nov 29, 2020 14:54:34 GMT -5
R. Browning
I see you all reel to the rock, you waves — Some forthright, some describe a sinuous track, Some crested, brilliantly with heads above, Some in a strangled swirl sunk who knows how, But all bound whither the main-current sets, Rockward, an end in foam for all of you!
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Post by Reba on Feb 17, 2021 13:56:54 GMT -5
Homer and Chapman -- name a more iconic duo -- i'll wait
As when a dull mill Asse comes neare a goodly field of corne, Kept from the birds by children's cries, the boyes are overborne By his insensible approach and simply he will eate, About whom many wands are broke, and still the children beate, And still the selfe-providing Asse doth with their weaknesse beare, Not stirring till his panch be full, and scarcely then will stere: So the huge sonne of Telamon amongst the Troyans far'd, Bore showers of darts upon his shield, yet scornd to flie as skar'd; And so kept softlie on his way, nor would he mend his pace For all their violent pursuits, that still did arme the chace With singing lances.
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Post by Reba on Dec 25, 2022 23:51:06 GMT -5
Euripides - Bacchae ἔτ᾽ αὐτὸν ὄψῃ κἀπὶ Δελφίσιν πέτραις πηδῶντα σὺν πεύκαισι δικόρυφον πλάκα, πάλλοντα καὶ σείοντα βακχεῖον κλάδον, μέγαν τ᾽ ἀν᾽ Ἑλλάδα. Aye, over Delphi's rock-built diadem Thou yet shalt see him leaping with his train Of fire across the twin-peaked mountain-plain, Flaming the darkness with his mystic wand, And great in Hellas. Someday you shall even see him bounding with his torches among the crags at Delphi, leaping the pastures that stretch between the peaks, whirling and waving his thyrsus: great throughout Hellas.
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Post by Reba on Jun 6, 2023 16:38:21 GMT -5
quaint delights from Piers Plowman
Ech man to pleye with a plow, pykoise or spade, Spynne, or sprede donge, or spille hymself with sleuthe; Preestes and persons with Placebo to hunte, And dyngen upon David eche day til eve.
***
Waryn Wisdom wynked upon Mede And seide, 'Madame, I am youre man, what so my mouth jangle; I falle in floryns,' quod that freke, 'and faile speche ofte.'
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Post by Reba on Jul 7, 2023 13:42:35 GMT -5
Notker's Deeds of Charlemagne :
this is now the good passages thread. "don't @ me" as the kids say
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Post by Reba on Aug 30, 2023 11:59:11 GMT -5
Why should I go gadding and fizgigging after firking flantado amphibologies?
-Thomas Nashe
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Post by Reba on Dec 20, 2023 1:10:35 GMT -5
For thilke grownd that bereth the wedes wikke Bereth ek thise holsom herbes, as ful ofte Next the foule netle, rough and thikke, The rose waxeth swoote and smothe and softe; And next the valeye is the hil o-lofte; And next the derke nyght the glade morwe; And also joie is next the fyn of sorwe.
- Geoffrey "Jeff" Chaucer
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