This dance of death which sounds so musically
Was sure intended for the corpse de ballet.

This dance of death which sounds so musically
Was sure intended for the corpse de ballet.

Endearing Waltz--to thy more melting tune
Bow Irish jig, and ancient rigadoon.
Scotch reels, avaunt! and country-dance read more

Endearing Waltz--to thy more melting tune
Bow Irish jig, and ancient rigadoon.
Scotch reels, avaunt! and country-dance forego
Your future claims to each fantastic toe!
Waltz--Waltz alone--both legs and arms demands,
Liberal of feet, and lavish of her hands.

A man's work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three read more

A man's work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three great and simple images in whose presence his heart first opened.

If you can't solve their problems with therapy, solve them with drinking

If you can't solve their problems with therapy, solve them with drinking

When Darby saw the setting sun
He swung his scythe, and home he run,
Sat down, drank read more

When Darby saw the setting sun
He swung his scythe, and home he run,
Sat down, drank off his quart and said,
"My work is done, I'll go to bed."
"My work is done!" retorted Joan,
"My work is done! Your constant tone,
But hapless woman ne'er can say
'My work is done' till judgment day."

Work is a necessary evil to be avoided.

Work is a necessary evil to be avoided.

Beware of the man who works hard to learn something, learns it,
and finds himself no wiser than before. read more

Beware of the man who works hard to learn something, learns it,
and finds himself no wiser than before. He is full of murderous
resentment of people who are ignorant without having come by
their ignorance the hard way.

With hand on the spade and heart in the sky
Dress the ground and till it;
Turn read more

With hand on the spade and heart in the sky
Dress the ground and till it;
Turn in the little seed, brown and dry,
Turn out the golden millet.
Work, and your house shall be duly fed:
Work, and rest shall be won;
I hold that a man had better be dead
Than alive when his work is done.

What! the girl I adore by another embraced?
What! the balm of her breath shall another man taste?
read more

What! the girl I adore by another embraced?
What! the balm of her breath shall another man taste?
What! pressed in the dance by another's man's knee?
What! panting recline on another than me?
Sir, she's yours; you have pressed from the grape its fine blue,
From the rosebud you've shaken the tremulous dew;
What you've touched you may take. Pretty waltzer--adieu!