L'Azur - Stéphane Mallarmé

De l’éternel Azur la sereine ironie
Accable, belle indolemment comme les fleurs,
Le poëte impuissant qui maudit son génie
A travers un désert stérile de Douleurs.

Fuyant, les yeux fermés, je le sens qui regarde
Avec l’intensité d’un remords atterrant,
Mon âme vide. Où fuir? Et quelle nuit hagarde
Jeter, lambeaux, jeter sur ce mépris navrant?

Brouillards, montez! Versez vos cendres monotones
Avec de longs haillons de brume dans les cieux
Que noiera le marais livide des automnes
Et bâtissez un grand plafond silencieux!

Et toi, sors des étangs léthéens et ramasse
En t’en venant la vase et les pâles roseaux,
Cher Ennui, pour boucher d’une main jamais lasse
Les grands trous bleus que font méchamment les oiseaux.

Encor! que sans répit les tristes cheminées
Fument, et que de suie une errante prison
Éteigne dans l’horreur de ses noires traînées
Le soleil se mourant jaunâtre à l’horizon!

––Le Ciel est mort.––Vers toi, j’accours! donne, ô matière,
L’oubli de l’Idéal cruel et du Péché
A ce martyr qui vient partager la litière
Où le bétail heureux des hommes est couché,

Car j’y veux, puisqu’enfin ma cervelle, vidée
Comme le pot de fard gisant au pied d’un mur,
N’a plus l’art d’attifer la sanglotante idée,
Lugubrement bâiller vers un trépas obscur.

En vain! l’Azur triomphe et je l’entends qui chante
Dans les cloches. Mon âme, il se fait voix pour plus
Nous faire peur avec sa victoire méchante,
Et du métal vivant sort en bleus angélus!

Il roule par la brume, ancien et traverse
Ta native agonie ainsi qu’un glaive sûr;
Où fuir dans la révolte inutile et perverse?
Je suis hanté. L’Azur! l’Azur! l’Azur! l’Azur!

Nas - Halftime (verse 2)

It's like that, you know it's like that
I got it hemmed, now you never get the mic back
When I attack, there ain't a army that could strike back
So I react never calmly on a hype track
I set it off with my own rhyme
‘Cause I'm as ill as a convict who kills for phone time
I'm max like cassettes, I flex like sex
In your stereo sets, Nas'll catch wreck
I used to hustle, now all I do is relax and strive
When I was young I was a fan of the Jackson 5
I drop jewels, wear jewels, hope to never run it
With more kicks than a baby in a mother's stomach
Nasty Nas has to rise ‘cause I'm wise
This is exercise 'til the microphone dies
Back in '83 I was an MC sparkin'
But I was too scared to grab the mics in the parks and
Kick my little raps ‘cause I thought niggas wouldn't understand
And now in every jam I'm the fuckin' man
I rap in front of more niggas than in the slave ships
I used to watch "CHiPs", now I load Glock clips
I got to have it, I miss Mr. Magic
Versatile, my style switches like a faggot
But not bisexual, I'm an intellectual
Of rap I'm a professional, and that's no question yo
These are the lyrics of the man, you can't near it, understand?
‘Cause in the streets I'm well-known like the number man
Am I in place with the bass and format?
Explore rap and tell me, "Nas ain't all that"
And next time I rhyme, I be foul
Whenever I freestyle I see trial, niggas say I'm wild
I hate a rhyme-biter's rhyme
Stay tuned, I assume, the real rap comes at halftime

Aeneid - Book 3 / Publius Vergilius Maro

'There is a country - the Greeks called it Hesperia, Land of the West,
an ancient land, mighty in war and rich in soil.
Oenotrians settled it; now we hear their descendants
call their kingdom Italy, after their leader, Italus.
There lies our true home. There Dardanus was born,
there Iasius. Fathers, founders of our people.
Rise up now! Rejoice, relay our message, certain
beyond all doubt, to your father full of years.
Seek out the town of Corythus, sail for Italy!
Jove denies you the fields of Dicte: Crete.'

Hamlet Act 5 Scene 2

"Not a whit. We defy augury. There’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come. If it be not to come, it will be now. If it be not now, yet it will come—the readiness is all. Since no man of aught he leaves knows, what is ’t to leave betimes? Let be."

Beware the ides of March

  The Tragedy of Julius Caesar - Act I, Scene II

• Soothsayer. Caesar!

• Caesar. Ha! who calls?

• Casca. Bid every noise be still: peace yet again!

• Caesar. Who is it in the press that calls on me?100
  I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,
  Cry 'Caesar!' Speak; Caesar is turn'd to hear.

• Soothsayer. Beware the ides of March.

• Caesar. What man is that?

• Brutus. A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March.105

• Caesar. Set him before me; let me see his face.

• Cassius. Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar.

• Caesar. What say'st thou to me now? speak once again.

• Soothsayer. Beware the ides of March.

• Caesar. He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass.110
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Whiskey

"How solemn and beautiful is the thought, that the earliest pioneer of civilization, the van-leader of civilization, is never the steamboat, never the railroad, never the newspaper, never the Sabbath-school, never the missionary—but always whiskey!" - Mark Twain