What can repay me for having kissed the leathern paw of that confounded old witch? Diavolo! She has left such a scent upon my lips, that I shall smell of garlick for this month to come! As I pass along the Prado, I shall be taken for a walking omelet, or some large onion running to seed!

The Monk

Amongst fowl, peacocks and pigeons, all fenny fowl are forbidden, as ducks, geese, swans, herons, cranes, coots, didappers, waterhens, with all those teals, curs, sheldrakes, and peckled fowls, that come hither in winter out of Scandia, Muscovy, Greenland, Friezland, which half the year are covered all over with snow, and frozen up. Though these be fair in feathers, pleasant in taste, and have a good outside, like hypocrites, white in plumes, aud soft, their flesh is hard, black, unwholesome, dangerous, melancholy meat; Gravant et putrefaciunt stomachum, saith Isaac, part. 5, de vol.; their young ones are more tolerable, but young pigeons he quite disapproves.

Anatomy of Melancholy

None sleep so profoundly as those who are determined not to wake.

The Monk

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Black Forest/Black Sea – “These Things”
Forcefields And Constellations

It’s a strange and noisy album, but sounds cohesive in that every track is something that could only come from Black Forest/Black Sea. Often the highest points of more traditional styles of music approach the quality of the best tracks from more popular or ancient bands like the Beatles or Pink Floyd. But it’s nice to have bands that, when they do something perfectly, you think “man, that is so… them.”

Of passions strong, of hasty nature,
Of graceless form and dwarfish stature;
By few approved, and few approving;
Extreme in hating and in loving;
Abhorring all whom I dislike,
Adoring who my fancy strike;
In forming judgments never long,
And for the most part judging wrong;
In friendship firm, but still believing
Others are treacherous and deceiving,
And thinking in the present æra
That friendship is a pure chimæra:
More passionate no creature living,
Proud, obstinate, and unforgiving,
But yet for those who kindness show,
Ready through fire and smoke to go.

Matthew Lewis, Preface to The Monk