Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence.
The art of love is knowing how to join the temperament of a vampire with the discretion of an anemone.
After E. M. Ciorian - or is it Richard Howard?
I'm afraid I can't compete with last year's Valentine's Day rant (dubbed "The Grinch Who Shanked Cupid" by Fade). So you may be better off with that (minus the dated political references). But this year, we sally forth nonetheless, marking the day with music – and the ladies represent.
We'll kick it off right here in America:
Even in an era of big hair, one woman reigned supreme.
Now over to the U.K. and retro girl group, the Pipettes:
Now over to France and indie chanteuse Soko:
Finally, Ida Maria rocks it, Norwegian-style:
Oh, okay, for you poetry lovers, here's the Bard again:
Sonnet 130
By William Shakespeare
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
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