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O love, could thou and I with fate conspire
To grasp this sorry scheme of things entire,
Might we not smash it to bits
And mould it closer to our hearts' desire?
-- Omar Khayyam, tr. FitzGerald
I used to be such a sweet sweet thing, 'til they got a hold of me,
I opened doors for little old ladies, I helped the blind to see,
I got no friends 'cause they read the papers, they can't be seen,
With me, and I'm feelin' real shot down,
And I'm, uh, f
💃 -- 🐠 -- 👔 -- 🐊 -- 👑 -- 📀 -- 🐳 -- 🏓 -- 🌳 -- 💛 -- 📕 -- 🎍 -- 🍇 -- 💄 -- 🐛