Margaret’s Song

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  There was a king in Thule,  True even to the grave;  To whom his dying mistress  A golden beaker gave.  At every feast he drained it,  Naught was to him so dear,  And often as he drained it,  Gush’d from his eyes the tear.  When death came, unrepining  His cities o’er he told;  All to his heir resigning,  Except his cup of gold.  With many a knightly vassal  At a royal feast sat he,  In yon proud hall ancestral,  In his castle o’er the sea.  Up stood the jovial monarch,  And quaff’d his last life’s glow,  Then hurled the hallow’d goblet  Into the flood below.  He saw it splashing, drinking,  And plunging in the sea;  His eyes meanwhile were sinking,  And never again drank he. “Margaret’s Song” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832) in “Faust. Part I.”

Randoms

Bathroom graffiti that makes a difference.

President Barack Obama has signed into law a bill granting lifetime Secret Service protection to former presidents and their wives. What is the preferred tool of protection, one wonders?

Millions of Hindus try to wash their sins away.

H.P. Lovecraft's advice to writers: read the KJV

This is what it really looks like to travel at light speed.

The response starting at 2:36 is my fave:


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