“As we live by the Muses, ‘tis but gratitude in us to encourage poetical merit wherever we find it. The Muses, contrary to all other ladies, pay no distinction to dress, and never partially mistake the pertness of embroidery for wit, nor the modest of want for dullness.”—John Gay, The Beggar’s Opera, Introduction.
“Mistaking the prominent novelty for the all-important totality, [they] seem to have ratiocinated much in the following manner: "Poetical genius is the finest of all things, and we feel that we have more of it than any one ever had. The way to bring it to perfection is to cultivate poetical impressions exclusively. Poetical impressions can be received only among natural scenes: for all that is artificial is anti-poetical. Society is artificial, therefore we will live out of society. The mountains are natural, therefore we will live in the mountains. There we shall be shining models of purity and virtue, passing the whole day in the innocent and amiable occupation of going up and down hills, receiving poetical impressions, and communicating them in immortal verse to admiring generations." To some such perversion of intellect we owe that egregious confraternity of rhymesters, known by the name of the Lake Poets;”—
Thomas Love Peacock The Four Ages of Poetry
TLP sez: Abandon poetry and do something useful with your lives!
The Close-minded Post-Structuturalist: Music Edition
"Firstly both rhythm and tone are obviously capitalist constructs. Secondly if you haven’t discovered and then rejected the magic of the pentatonic scale already you don’t even belong in this conversation."
“The happiness of life is made up of minute fractions — the little soon forgotten charities of a kiss or smile, a kind look, a heartfelt compliment, and the countless infinitesimal of pleasurable and genial feeling.”—