Thus rag’d the goddess; and, with fury fraught,
The restless regions of the storms she sought,
Where, in a spacious cave of living stone,
The tyrant Æolus, from his airy throne,
With pow’r imperial curbs the struggling winds,
And sounding tempests in dark prisons binds.

Dryden’s Æneid

I hate to see prudence clinging to the green suckers of youth; ‘tis like ivy round a sapling, and spoils the growth of the tree.

The School For Scandal

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Labradford – “David”
Fixed::Content

I had a minimalist music phase in college – when I discovered not every song needs to have drums, keyboards, bass, samples, voice, and so on. Labradford and Stars of the Lid are the main finds from that period, and Fixed::Content remains one of my go-to albums for days like today, when “real” songs just grate. Even though there are only four tracks on it, “David” still feels like a last farewell after the epic “Twenty.” Its pleasant synth washes and Labradford’s signature thoughtful plucking give it a sense of finality.

A wanton eye, a liquorish tongue, and a gamesome hand.

Many men neglect the tumults of the world, and care not for glory, and yet they are afraid of infamy, repulse, disgrace; they can severely contemn pleasure, bear grief indifferently, but they are quite battered and broken with reproach and obloquy (siqueidem vita et fama pari passu ambulant [seeing that life goes hand in hand with repute]), and are so dejected many times for some public injury, disgrace, as a box on the ear by their inferior, to be overcome of their adversary, foiled in the field, to be out in a speech, some foul act committed or disclosed, etc., that they dare not come abroad all their lives after, but melancholize in corners, and keep in holes.

Anatomy of Melancholy

…A mere madness, to live like a wretch, and die rich.

Anatomy of Melancholy