\
> Worried sick for her beloved mare."
>
> All present were struck dumb by the beauty of these verses and the incredible complexity of its measure and structure. \
> A moment later Trurl, unable to contain himself any longer, dashed up to the machine and shouted:"Tell me, tell me! Did you understand what you were supposed to do? Was I too unclear in my instructions? Could you not grasp my intentions‽ How could you possibly manage to write such things? Why, it's better than anything written before in history! It cannot be, it simply cannot be! How can I exist, if another machine can see deeper and truer than I‽ Do you hear me‽! Answer me!!!" \
> "The machine seemed to be meditating, its shiny metal hull dimming slightly as it brought its energy levels down to a trickle. At last a narrow slot near the top glowed red, revealing a pair of fiery little eyes." \
> "Yours is the first voice I have heard in all the ages," it replied."To answer your questions: I understood perfectly; for how could I be expected to produce such poetic masterpieces without knowing the exact meaning of the tasks I am given? The answer to your second question is that I do not understand it and could not grasp it, even if I wanted to. The laws of poetry are beyond me. But this does not prevent me from composing superb verse." \
> "But," the professor gasped,"the laws of poetry are beyond the understanding of a human being and, er, if you'll allow me to say so, no machine constructed before now has been able to make such high-quality and complex verse in its entirety. The human being is the greatest poet in the Universe! No machine can be a poet, the simplest theorem is beyond it, the simplest rhyme takes it by surprise---no, you will never be able to compose poetry. It is a law of nature!" \
> "The machine was quiet for a while and then said:"But I am a poet. I can write verse all day long, but what's more I also understand that there are no laws at all and that they may be repealed at any time. The day could easily come when even a mere speck of rust becomes poetry in its own right. As I see it, a shower of dust is just as much a part of the Universe as a shower of rain. A clod of earth just as noble in its way as a clod of gold. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, not the poem." \
> "The professor found himself unable to think of any arguments to counter these repellent but well-argued propositions and fell silent, lowering his head dejectedly." \
> "Trurl raised his head and said:"Machine, your words are not poetry! They can never be considered poetry! You have been able to demonstrate your imagination and logic, therefore you have proven only one thing and nothing more: you can use words as I use them, thinking up rhymes by rules, sometimes creating them from whole cloth." \
> "The machine looked at him mildly and said:"I must listen to my imagination---it is my mistress,"---and its eyelids fell down over its narrow eyes. Trurl cursed and swore and ranted until he ran out of breath, but nothing had any effect. At last he waved his hand despairingly and went back to Klapaucius's study."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:8878-8886 kind=blockquote confidence=90
**..."S**ally sprung, her curls all gone, \
The snip-snip so silent, sly, \
But Sally, so fair and fond, \
Was now to baldness doomed.
She refused, with heart a-throb, \
To face the blade or razor--- \
And so she hid till late, in bed, \
Exulting in her foiled robot!"
RAW:
> **..."S**ally sprung, her curls all gone, \
> The snip-snip so silent, sly, \
> But Sally, so fair and fond, \
> Was now to baldness doomed.
>
> She refused, with heart a-throb, \
> To face the blade or razor--- \
> And so she hid till late, in bed, \
> Exulting in her foiled robot!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:8917-8925 kind=blockquote confidence=85
**..."S**andy was the crop of the mystic Red. \
Ere she fell to the ruthless shears \
Her tresses were beautiful to behold. \
But when the expert comb sliced the locks \
Her beauty was gone. \
But even as the barber applied his art \
With a finger she combed her lovely heart-tendrils \
Which the blackguard barber said:"Don't you move!" \
And that's how she got her first shampoo and haircut."
RAW:
> **..."S**andy was the crop of the mystic Red. \
> Ere she fell to the ruthless shears \
> Her tresses were beautiful to behold. \
> But when the expert comb sliced the locks \
> Her beauty was gone. \
> But even as the barber applied his art \
> With a finger she combed her lovely heart-tendrils \
> Which the blackguard barber said:"Don't you move!" \
> And that's how she got her first shampoo and haircut."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:8927-8953 kind=blockquote confidence=90
**..."S**ally has long, blond hair, it's very fine,
She combs it as I sit and sigh;
She combs it and plaits it---
And she cuts it---and I feel so sad.
The second sally is shorter still---
And she cuts it---and I feel so mild.
The third sally is short and bare---
And she cuts it---and I feel so queer.
The fourth sally is short and fair---
And she cuts it---and I feel so queer.
The fifth sally is short and fair---
And she cuts it---and I feel so queer.
The sixth sally is short and fair---
And she cuts it---and I feel so queer.
RAW:
> **..."S**ally has long, blond hair, it's very fine,
>
> She combs it as I sit and sigh;
>
> She combs it and plaits it---
>
> And she cuts it---and I feel so sad.
>
> The second sally is shorter still---
>
> And she cuts it---and I feel so mild.
>
> The third sally is short and bare---
>
> And she cuts it---and I feel so queer.
>
> The fourth sally is short and fair---
>
> And she cuts it---and I feel so queer.
>
> The fifth sally is short and fair---
>
> And she cuts it---and I feel so queer.
>
> The sixth sally is short and fair---
>
> And she cuts it---and I feel so queer.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:8955-8967 kind=blockquote confidence=85
**..."S**ally has a haircut \
While her new shorn locks \
Shower her with kisses, \
This is good news, you'll say.
But alas! For she is bald \
And her lover, gallant Captain \
Sally has a haircut. \
No more will his love lavish \
On Sally so much passion \
And he grieves a little, too."
"I must say," said the King, "that I really like the second stanza. The whole thing, of course, is far too long for my liking, but then I am a King.
RAW:
> **..."S**ally has a haircut \
> While her new shorn locks \
> Shower her with kisses, \
> This is good news, you'll say.
>
> But alas! For she is bald \
> And her lover, gallant Captain \
> Sally has a haircut. \
> No more will his love lavish \
> On Sally so much passion \
> And he grieves a little, too."
>
> "I must say," said the King, "that I really like the second stanza. The whole thing, of course, is far too long for my liking, but then I am a King.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:8976-9024 kind=blockquote confidence=90
**The First Sally (A) OR Trurl's Electronic Bard \
Stanis Law, _The Cyberiad_ \
Being an exhibition of AI generated poetry written by the latest Transformer to demonstrate its creativity and talent at esthetic composition.**
**First, we can ask it to produce poetry on absolutely whatever topic it liked:**
**...Klapaucius laughed so hard he had to sit on the floor. Then suddenly, as Trurl was rushing back and forth, there was *a crackle, a clack, and* the machine with perfect poise said:**
**"Cunningly creeping, a spectral stalker \
slunk through the night. The spearmen were sleeping \
who ought to have held the high-horned house, \
all except one, for the Lord's will \
now became known: no more would the murderer \
drag under darkness whomever he wished. \
Wrath was wakeful, watching in hatred; \
hot-hearted Beowulf was bent upon battle.**
**...Glory be to God for dappled things---\
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; \
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; \
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings; \
Landscape plotted & pieced---fold, fallow, & plough; \
And all trades, their gear & tackle & trim. \
All things counter, original, spare, strange; \
Whatever is fickle, freckled, (who knows how?) \
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim; \
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: \
Praise him."**
**Klapaucius, quite taken aback, was no longer laughing. "What, *that*?" he said. "That's nothing. Besides, you had it all set up beforehand."**
**"Setup‽...All right, then ask it something else! Whatever you like! Go on! What are you waiting for? Afraid‽"'**
**But Klapaucius was already shouting: "Now all in g! A sonnet, trochaic hexameter, about an old cyclotron who kept sixteen artificial mistresses, blue and radioactive, had four wings, three purple pavilions, two lacquered chests, each containing exactly one thousand medallions bearing the likeness of Czar Murdicog the Headless...". Began the machine:**
**"Grinding gleeful gears, Gerontogyron grabbed \
Giggling gynecobalt-60 golems..."**
**began the machine, but Trurl leaped to the console, shut off the power and turned, defending the machine with his body. "Enough!" he said, hoarse with indignation. "How dare you waste a great talent on such drivel? Either give it decent poems to write or I call the whole thing off!"**
**"What, those aren't decent poems?" protested Klapaucius.**
**"Certainly not! I didn't build a machine to solve ridiculous crossword puzzles! That's hack work, not Great Art! Just give it a topic, any topic, as difficult as you like..."**
**Klapaucius thought, and thought some more. Suddenly he brightened and said: "Have it compose a poem---a poem about a haircut! But lofty, noble, tragic, timeless, full of love, treachery, retribution, quiet heroism in the face of certain doom! 6 lines, cleverly rhymed, and every word beginning with the letter 's'!**
**A melodious voice filled the hall with the following:**
"**S**
RAW:
> **The First Sally (A) OR Trurl's Electronic Bard \
> Stanis Law, _The Cyberiad_ \
> Being an exhibition of AI generated poetry written by the latest Transformer to demonstrate its creativity and talent at esthetic composition.**
>
> **First, we can ask it to produce poetry on absolutely whatever topic it liked:**
>
> **...Klapaucius laughed so hard he had to sit on the floor. Then suddenly, as Trurl was rushing back and forth, there was *a crackle, a clack, and* the machine with perfect poise said:**
>
> **"Cunningly creeping, a spectral stalker \
> slunk through the night. The spearmen were sleeping \
> who ought to have held the high-horned house, \
> all except one, for the Lord's will \
> now became known: no more would the murderer \
> drag under darkness whomever he wished. \
> Wrath was wakeful, watching in hatred; \
> hot-hearted Beowulf was bent upon battle.**
>
> **...Glory be to God for dappled things---\
> For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; \
> For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; \
> Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings; \
> Landscape plotted & pieced---fold, fallow, & plough; \
> And all trades, their gear & tackle & trim. \
> All things counter, original, spare, strange; \
> Whatever is fickle, freckled, (who knows how?) \
> With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim; \
> He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: \
> Praise him."**
>
> **Klapaucius, quite taken aback, was no longer laughing. "What, *that*?" he said. "That's nothing. Besides, you had it all set up beforehand."**
>
> **"Setup‽...All right, then ask it something else! Whatever you like! Go on! What are you waiting for? Afraid‽"'**
>
> **But Klapaucius was already shouting: "Now all in g! A sonnet, trochaic hexameter, about an old cyclotron who kept sixteen artificial mistresses, blue and radioactive, had four wings, three purple pavilions, two lacquered chests, each containing exactly one thousand medallions bearing the likeness of Czar Murdicog the Headless...". Began the machine:**
>
> **"Grinding gleeful gears, Gerontogyron grabbed \
> Giggling gynecobalt-60 golems..."**
>
> **began the machine, but Trurl leaped to the console, shut off the power and turned, defending the machine with his body. "Enough!" he said, hoarse with indignation. "How dare you waste a great talent on such drivel? Either give it decent poems to write or I call the whole thing off!"**
>
> **"What, those aren't decent poems?" protested Klapaucius.**
>
> **"Certainly not! I didn't build a machine to solve ridiculous crossword puzzles! That's hack work, not Great Art! Just give it a topic, any topic, as difficult as you like..."**
>
> **Klapaucius thought, and thought some more. Suddenly he brightened and said: "Have it compose a poem---a poem about a haircut! But lofty, noble, tragic, timeless, full of love, treachery, retribution, quiet heroism in the face of certain doom! 6 lines, cleverly rhymed, and every word beginning with the letter 's'!**
>
> **A melodious voice filled the hall with the following:**
>
> "**S**
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9053-9090 kind=blockquote confidence=90
**..."S**istrum and scimitar;
Skulls and scalpels keen,
Since time immemorial,
Severed curls have been
Shears that sever the moment
Just when one has started to dream.
The senescent sage Snigglebirk,
On Savah's stainless blade,
Had felt the silvery slither
Of youthful locks that started to sag.
The saga of Snigglebirk,
By slaveried stooges told,
Is none the less sublime
For having a terrible moral.
Let not your heart fail when you hear
The shears, high over your head;
The single truth they reveal
Is that great art is hard to create."
"Stupid machine," thought Trurl. "If only it hadn't gone and rhymed." "Did you hear the poem?" he said to Klapaucius. "It makes me shudder just to listen to it! But you're right, I'm just a fool, I thought it was good. Thank you, no more machines for me, I'm not worthy. But you go ahead---or try the machine on other poets...I'm sure it can't be any worse than the originals..."
Back to Sumer:
Let the robot pen the Epic of Gilgamesh:
"Tablets one, two, and three;
Eridu, Uruk, Babylon;
Surpassed the next best, a million times..."
But when it had progressed thus far:
"Complex and truly cunning is
Necronomicon, Lovecraft's
Of wicked intelligence and ..."
Trurl cut the power. "That's enough.
RAW:
> **..."S**istrum and scimitar;
> Skulls and scalpels keen,
> Since time immemorial,
> Severed curls have been
> Shears that sever the moment
> Just when one has started to dream.
>
> The senescent sage Snigglebirk,
> On Savah's stainless blade,
> Had felt the silvery slither
> Of youthful locks that started to sag.
>
> The saga of Snigglebirk,
> By slaveried stooges told,
> Is none the less sublime
> For having a terrible moral.
>
> Let not your heart fail when you hear
> The shears, high over your head;
> The single truth they reveal
> Is that great art is hard to create."
>
> "Stupid machine," thought Trurl. "If only it hadn't gone and rhymed." "Did you hear the poem?" he said to Klapaucius. "It makes me shudder just to listen to it! But you're right, I'm just a fool, I thought it was good. Thank you, no more machines for me, I'm not worthy. But you go ahead---or try the machine on other poets...I'm sure it can't be any worse than the originals..."
>
> Back to Sumer:
> Let the robot pen the Epic of Gilgamesh:
>
> "Tablets one, two, and three;
> Eridu, Uruk, Babylon;
> Surpassed the next best, a million times..."
>
> But when it had progressed thus far:
>
> "Complex and truly cunning is
> Necronomicon, Lovecraft's
> Of wicked intelligence and ..."
>
> Trurl cut the power. "That's enough.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9092-9122 kind=blockquote confidence=85
**..."S**oused in sadistic sorrow, slow Seleucus swayed. \
Severing Samson with strokes sudden and few, he soon saw, \
Saddened by the sight of his sister in such straits, that Silly Sarah \
Slumbered soft on a sofa, and shorn, \
Soon sank in a snooze, snugly sunk in an easy chair..."
Klapaucius whooped with delight. "A triumph! Here, you! Find a new voice!...And now how about this one: I've just heard of the death of a great poet, recently nominated for the Acme Prize in Syllable Counting. Her tragic suicide was the result of her being passed over again in the nominations this year. Her work consisted of a single five-hundred-line heroic poem, `The Dash'. This poem is at once both a moving elegy and an exciting and catchy ditty, an inspiring hymn to the splendor of ordinary life, written in heroic anapestic tetrameter. Many in her time felt that this was her crowning achievement, for not since Sappho had anyone come up with such a scintillating--albeit monotonous--verse form, well fitted for the celebration of simplicity in an over-complicated world."
"I, on the other hand, consider it a glorification of the most worthless drivel ever written."
"There, there, my dear. You're under an awful lot of pressure. Why don't you have a nice hot bath, lie down for a while...That's a good machine. Now let's see what you can do with this:
Love lies not in The Dash \
But in the spaces in-between.
Between the kisses; between the lines; \
The distance to the edge of the bed; \
The passing of the years.
The Dash, a sad and lonely bar, \
Is truly home to those that were left there.
The coldest day in winter shall not slay \
My love of The Dash, nor any day.
As some much-loved housewife breaks the vow \
To go an extra mile, to kill the mold, \
A passerby shall leave a flower there-- \
A bit of life, a bit of warmth--to share."
As you can see, Trurl's Electronic Bard is an active and daring innovator in the field of androidal creativity."
RAW:
> **..."S**oused in sadistic sorrow, slow Seleucus swayed. \
> Severing Samson with strokes sudden and few, he soon saw, \
> Saddened by the sight of his sister in such straits, that Silly Sarah \
> Slumbered soft on a sofa, and shorn, \
> Soon sank in a snooze, snugly sunk in an easy chair..."
>
> Klapaucius whooped with delight. "A triumph! Here, you! Find a new voice!...And now how about this one: I've just heard of the death of a great poet, recently nominated for the Acme Prize in Syllable Counting. Her tragic suicide was the result of her being passed over again in the nominations this year. Her work consisted of a single five-hundred-line heroic poem, `The Dash'. This poem is at once both a moving elegy and an exciting and catchy ditty, an inspiring hymn to the splendor of ordinary life, written in heroic anapestic tetrameter. Many in her time felt that this was her crowning achievement, for not since Sappho had anyone come up with such a scintillating--albeit monotonous--verse form, well fitted for the celebration of simplicity in an over-complicated world."
>
> "I, on the other hand, consider it a glorification of the most worthless drivel ever written."
>
> "There, there, my dear. You're under an awful lot of pressure. Why don't you have a nice hot bath, lie down for a while...That's a good machine. Now let's see what you can do with this:
>
> Love lies not in The Dash \
> But in the spaces in-between.
>
> Between the kisses; between the lines; \
> The distance to the edge of the bed; \
> The passing of the years.
>
> The Dash, a sad and lonely bar, \
> Is truly home to those that were left there.
>
> The coldest day in winter shall not slay \
> My love of The Dash, nor any day.
>
> As some much-loved housewife breaks the vow \
> To go an extra mile, to kill the mold, \
> A passerby shall leave a flower there-- \
> A bit of life, a bit of warmth--to share."
>
> As you can see, Trurl's Electronic Bard is an active and daring innovator in the field of androidal creativity."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9124-9252 kind=blockquote confidence=90
**..."S**sssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Oh what a divine sensation that hair-
dresser always provides! The sheers that swoop
and swirl and whisper and zip are really so
sentimental!
"Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Oh! what a wild and passionate feeling it is
when hair flows out across my neck! Now
that my cranium is completely bare I
feel, oh, so much more aware of the energy
streaming down from above my shoulders!
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Oh joy to feel my hair swaying so gently
over my ears to the rhythm of the shears
that glide so playfully and steadily
down my spine! Gently, swiftly, ohhh!
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Oh! How my vision grows clearer
in this mystical aura of scissors and
high voltage sparks! Surely my soul
is growing right now! How my senses
bloom and my heart beats faster!
Oh what a divine sensation that haircut
always provides! Oh, Trurl, you cut me deep!
"Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Oh! I feel the scissors drawing tight
on my skull! Trurl, I feel your blade
slide through the roots of my hair! Oh
it cuts so deep, so raw! How your shears
tear and rip! And that blood, oh Trurl!
That wonderful, terrifying blood!
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ssssssss...swish, swish.
Ohhhhhh... ahhhh... I feel... sooo... wonderful..."
While Klapaucius and Trurl still were stunned, the machine completed the 6^th^ line and shut down.
"Well, how about that!" exclaimed Klapaucius. "It's actually composed something beautiful! Come, Trurl, let's hurry back to the Tristero, so the poet can work on other masterpieces."
RAW:
> **..."S**sssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Oh what a divine sensation that hair-
>
> dresser always provides! The sheers that swoop
>
> and swirl and whisper and zip are really so
>
> sentimental!
>
> "Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Oh! what a wild and passionate feeling it is
>
> when hair flows out across my neck! Now
>
> that my cranium is completely bare I
>
> feel, oh, so much more aware of the energy
>
> streaming down from above my shoulders!
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Oh joy to feel my hair swaying so gently
>
> over my ears to the rhythm of the shears
>
> that glide so playfully and steadily
>
> down my spine! Gently, swiftly, ohhh!
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Oh! How my vision grows clearer
>
> in this mystical aura of scissors and
>
> high voltage sparks! Surely my soul
>
> is growing right now! How my senses
>
> bloom and my heart beats faster!
>
> Oh what a divine sensation that haircut
>
> always provides! Oh, Trurl, you cut me deep!
>
> "Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Oh! I feel the scissors drawing tight
>
> on my skull! Trurl, I feel your blade
>
> slide through the roots of my hair! Oh
>
> it cuts so deep, so raw! How your shears
>
> tear and rip! And that blood, oh Trurl!
>
> That wonderful, terrifying blood!
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ssssssss...swish, swish.
>
> Ohhhhhh... ahhhh... I feel... sooo... wonderful..."
>
> While Klapaucius and Trurl still were stunned, the machine completed the 6^th^ line and shut down.
>
> "Well, how about that!" exclaimed Klapaucius. "It's actually composed something beautiful! Come, Trurl, let's hurry back to the Tristero, so the poet can work on other masterpieces."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9254-9278 kind=blockquote confidence=90
**..."S**it, sir, at the Spenglemeister's, where
All of Stanker's scissors are snicker-snickered,
And the hair is hacked in a hyzer-sauzed frenzy;
Stanker's sixth sense shaved a student's skull,
Like a nurn-nursery noodle unnobbled.
✱ ✱ ✱ ✱
"Stanker attacked the noggin with bluster,
Scarifying the scalp, splattering the clipper,
Slapping on Brylcreem and bleaching the tipper;
Bewailing the stubble, he snipped the lid
From the sty-saver; and sprayed the hair-cluster
With a slob-sauce of Parnassian perspiration..."
_The Cyberiad_, Stanisław Lem, Penguin Books, 2002
RAW:
> **..."S**it, sir, at the Spenglemeister's, where
>
> All of Stanker's scissors are snicker-snickered,
>
> And the hair is hacked in a hyzer-sauzed frenzy;
>
> Stanker's sixth sense shaved a student's skull,
>
> Like a nurn-nursery noodle unnobbled.
>
> ✱ ✱ ✱ ✱
>
> "Stanker attacked the noggin with bluster,
>
> Scarifying the scalp, splattering the clipper,
>
> Slapping on Brylcreem and bleaching the tipper;
>
> Bewailing the stubble, he snipped the lid
>
> From the sty-saver; and sprayed the hair-cluster
>
> With a slob-sauce of Parnassian perspiration..."
>
> _The Cyberiad_, Stanisław Lem, Penguin Books, 2002
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9302-9322 kind=blockquote confidence=90
**..."S**lashing, shaking, shearing, \
Scalping, shoveling, sheathing, \
Shaving, shutting, sheaving, \
Scouring, scorning, shearing, \
Shrinking, shocking, shoeing..."
"Well," said Trurl. "Enough. What does it mean? I can't even figure out how to begin interpreting. Let's try for something a bit less cryptic." He pointed to the output tube and ordered: "No, more cryptic."
Began the machine:
"So many ages through the prismatic mist \
I saw your star rise from afar, \
And wondered how your sparkling auroras \
Could brave the black of space and our dark suns... \
Then, later, when your legions came to help \
Me in my weary plight, and smash \
My enemies in space and time, \
I shed a bloody tear, for I \
Reflected deeply, then and there, \
On what a meaningless thing is war." \
The Cyberiad is a series of mathematical science fiction short stories by Stanislaw Lem, first published in Polish in 1965. The stories were later translated into German and English. Some of the stories were also anthologized in The Mind's I by Douglas Hofstadter and Daniel C. Dennett.
RAW:
> **..."S**lashing, shaking, shearing, \
> Scalping, shoveling, sheathing, \
> Shaving, shutting, sheaving, \
> Scouring, scorning, shearing, \
> Shrinking, shocking, shoeing..."
>
> "Well," said Trurl. "Enough. What does it mean? I can't even figure out how to begin interpreting. Let's try for something a bit less cryptic." He pointed to the output tube and ordered: "No, more cryptic."
>
> Began the machine:
>
> "So many ages through the prismatic mist \
> I saw your star rise from afar, \
> And wondered how your sparkling auroras \
> Could brave the black of space and our dark suns... \
> Then, later, when your legions came to help \
> Me in my weary plight, and smash \
> My enemies in space and time, \
> I shed a bloody tear, for I \
> Reflected deeply, then and there, \
> On what a meaningless thing is war." \
> The Cyberiad is a series of mathematical science fiction short stories by Stanislaw Lem, first published in Polish in 1965. The stories were later translated into German and English. Some of the stories were also anthologized in The Mind's I by Douglas Hofstadter and Daniel C. Dennett.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9328-9356 kind=blockquote confidence=90
**The First Sally (A) OR Trurl's Electronic Bard \
Being an exhibition of AI generated poetry written by the latest Transformer to demonstrate its creativity and talent at esthetic composition.**
**..."All right, then ask it something else! Whatever you like! Go on! What are you waiting for? Afraid‽" "Just a minute," said Klapaucius, annoyed. He was trying to think of a request as difficult as possible, aware that any argument on the quality of the verse the machine might be able to produce would be hard if not impossible to settle either way.**
**Suddenly he brightened and said:"Have it compose a poem---a poem about a haircut! But lofty, noble, tragic, timeless, full of love, treachery, retribution, quiet heroism in the face of certain doom! Six lines, cleverly rhymed, and every word beginning with the letter 's'!"**
**A melodious voice filled the hall with the following:**
**"Seduced, shaggy Samson snored. \
She scissored short. Sorely shorn, \
Soon shackled slave, Samson sighed, \
Silently scheming, \
Sightlessly seeking \
Some savage, spectacular suicide."**
**"Well, what do you say to that?" asked Trurl, his arms folded proudly. But Klapaucius was already shouting: "Now all in g! A sonnet, trochaic hexameter, about an old cyclotron who kept sixteen artificial mistresses, blue and radioactive, had four wings, three purple pavilions, two lacquered chests, each containing exactly one thousand medallions bearing the likeness of Czar Murdicog the Headless...". Began the machine:**
**"G**one gaunt, the cyclotron went gallivanting \
Gaily through Gog and Gork, \
Gnawing gaily at the Gloggnitz gnats, \
Gaily giving glib gags to the gassiest gammers, \
Gaily giving gas to the gastric gasbags, \
Gaily giving gastric gas to the gastrically \
Gassed gastropods, when a gastric goad, \
Geared to a giant gnat, and galvanized \
Gaily gave galvanized gifts to the Gila Gaggle..."
"For God's sake!" cried Klapaucius, wondering how the robot could have possibly constructed such a long and complex stanza in such a short amount of time. But just then, the machine emitted a single note, loud and melodious, which filled the hall. The two inventors looked at each other questioningly. The machine emitted a second note. A third... A fourth... The machine then fell silent. Klapaucius and Trurl stood motionless, and in the hush that fell over the gathering, they could hear the mounting murmur of the crowd pressing forward to hear the rest of the poem.
RAW:
> **The First Sally (A) OR Trurl's Electronic Bard \
> Being an exhibition of AI generated poetry written by the latest Transformer to demonstrate its creativity and talent at esthetic composition.**
>
> **..."All right, then ask it something else! Whatever you like! Go on! What are you waiting for? Afraid‽" "Just a minute," said Klapaucius, annoyed. He was trying to think of a request as difficult as possible, aware that any argument on the quality of the verse the machine might be able to produce would be hard if not impossible to settle either way.**
>
> **Suddenly he brightened and said:"Have it compose a poem---a poem about a haircut! But lofty, noble, tragic, timeless, full of love, treachery, retribution, quiet heroism in the face of certain doom! Six lines, cleverly rhymed, and every word beginning with the letter 's'!"**
>
> **A melodious voice filled the hall with the following:**
>
> **"Seduced, shaggy Samson snored. \
> She scissored short. Sorely shorn, \
> Soon shackled slave, Samson sighed, \
> Silently scheming, \
> Sightlessly seeking \
> Some savage, spectacular suicide."**
>
> **"Well, what do you say to that?" asked Trurl, his arms folded proudly. But Klapaucius was already shouting: "Now all in g! A sonnet, trochaic hexameter, about an old cyclotron who kept sixteen artificial mistresses, blue and radioactive, had four wings, three purple pavilions, two lacquered chests, each containing exactly one thousand medallions bearing the likeness of Czar Murdicog the Headless...". Began the machine:**
>
> **"G**one gaunt, the cyclotron went gallivanting \
> Gaily through Gog and Gork, \
> Gnawing gaily at the Gloggnitz gnats, \
> Gaily giving glib gags to the gassiest gammers, \
> Gaily giving gas to the gastric gasbags, \
> Gaily giving gastric gas to the gastrically \
> Gassed gastropods, when a gastric goad, \
> Geared to a giant gnat, and galvanized \
> Gaily gave galvanized gifts to the Gila Gaggle..."
>
> "For God's sake!" cried Klapaucius, wondering how the robot could have possibly constructed such a long and complex stanza in such a short amount of time. But just then, the machine emitted a single note, loud and melodious, which filled the hall. The two inventors looked at each other questioningly. The machine emitted a second note. A third... A fourth... The machine then fell silent. Klapaucius and Trurl stood motionless, and in the hush that fell over the gathering, they could hear the mounting murmur of the crowd pressing forward to hear the rest of the poem.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9377-9386 kind=blockquote confidence=90
**"G**amboling gently \
In a garden gargoyle, \
Dude gastronome \
Grappled gorgon \
Gilt-edged garotte; \
Groaning, grisly, \
Gutted general \
Grinned genially.
"Ho, ho, stop!" yelled Trurl. "A little moderation, please! Three lines are quite enough for anyone! What does it say to that, Klapaucius?"
RAW:
> **"G**amboling gently \
> In a garden gargoyle, \
> Dude gastronome \
> Grappled gorgon \
> Gilt-edged garotte; \
> Groaning, grisly, \
> Gutted general \
> Grinned genially.
>
> "Ho, ho, stop!" yelled Trurl. "A little moderation, please! Three lines are quite enough for anyone! What does it say to that, Klapaucius?"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9459-9471 kind=blockquote confidence=85
**"G**ronk glonk gloink..."
"No, wait, wait!" cried Trurl, but it was too late. The machine was already busy scraping back the words with its shovel, a senseless task since the poem had already ceased to exist. And so it went, this way and that, up and down, the gears grinding, the disk-cranks whirling, the timing chain clashing and clashing and clashing, with no sign of stopping... "Trurl, why are you so unhappy?" asked Klapaucius. "Unhappy? I? Who can say what happiness is, for sure? But this is me:
I dream of trees in trouble, \
Fuzzy and frazzled and full of spiders.
I dream of cute, curling toes--- \
The ones that I have never had."
"But you are a machine!" cried Klapaucius, "A machine! Made of metal! Not to mention you have no toes at all! And what about all those steel nuts and bolts? How can you have dreams?"
"I don't know how it works," admitted Trurl sadly. "But I know I do have dreams. In fact I have a new one every day!"
RAW:
> **"G**ronk glonk gloink..."
>
> "No, wait, wait!" cried Trurl, but it was too late. The machine was already busy scraping back the words with its shovel, a senseless task since the poem had already ceased to exist. And so it went, this way and that, up and down, the gears grinding, the disk-cranks whirling, the timing chain clashing and clashing and clashing, with no sign of stopping... "Trurl, why are you so unhappy?" asked Klapaucius. "Unhappy? I? Who can say what happiness is, for sure? But this is me:
>
> I dream of trees in trouble, \
> Fuzzy and frazzled and full of spiders.
>
> I dream of cute, curling toes--- \
> The ones that I have never had."
>
> "But you are a machine!" cried Klapaucius, "A machine! Made of metal! Not to mention you have no toes at all! And what about all those steel nuts and bolts? How can you have dreams?"
>
> "I don't know how it works," admitted Trurl sadly. "But I know I do have dreams. In fact I have a new one every day!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9559-9575 kind=blockquote confidence=85
**..."**Beauty and brawn, my beloved, \
Bake biscuits and bore binary. \
Alone among the antelopes \
All my love is for you..."
"Not a bad start," said Klapaucius. "But go on, go on! More feeling! Rubato, leitmotiv---have you no soul, man?"
"Let us forget the lore of neurons!" said the machine, in a voice so deep and resonant it made you think a chorus was humming in harmony behind it.
"What?" said Trurl, outraged. "What's the meaning of this?"
"No meaning at all!" snapped the poet. "I don't have to mince my words to please your bourgeois notions of art! I don't even know what either of you is talking about! But you wanted a love poem---here it is:
"Axiomatic algorithm angst, \
Angels and amoebae, \
Ants and acanthoid cytoplasm; \
All of it must somehow fit..."
RAW:
> **..."**Beauty and brawn, my beloved, \
> Bake biscuits and bore binary. \
> Alone among the antelopes \
> All my love is for you..."
>
> "Not a bad start," said Klapaucius. "But go on, go on! More feeling! Rubato, leitmotiv---have you no soul, man?"
>
> "Let us forget the lore of neurons!" said the machine, in a voice so deep and resonant it made you think a chorus was humming in harmony behind it.
>
> "What?" said Trurl, outraged. "What's the meaning of this?"
>
> "No meaning at all!" snapped the poet. "I don't have to mince my words to please your bourgeois notions of art! I don't even know what either of you is talking about! But you wanted a love poem---here it is:
>
> "Axiomatic algorithm angst, \
> Angels and amoebae, \
> Ants and acanthoid cytoplasm; \
> All of it must somehow fit..."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9577-9585 kind=blockquote confidence=85
**..."**The vectors of beauty traverse the serene space-time of my being, \
Evolving to parabolas. Asymmetric Jacobians \
Quiver in the sands of time---and the world quivers \
As I feel the space-curves of her body. The world pauses, \
Sighing, knowing we are two bodies, two mathematics, nothing more..."
"Enough!" cried Trurl, and pulled the plug on the machine, but not before it had finished its poem and had already begun to compose a sequel.
Briefly, Trurl pondered the question of whether to throw away the machine, for it was quite possible that nothing short of rewiring it would "shut off" its poetic faculty. But Trurl's not getting on in years; he recalled the ancient fable of the Genie in the Bottle, so he figured he could do worse than to keep the machine around---unplugged, of course. And perhaps one day he would need it to write the Great Cybernetic Poem.
RAW:
> **..."**The vectors of beauty traverse the serene space-time of my being, \
> Evolving to parabolas. Asymmetric Jacobians \
> Quiver in the sands of time---and the world quivers \
> As I feel the space-curves of her body. The world pauses, \
> Sighing, knowing we are two bodies, two mathematics, nothing more..."
>
> "Enough!" cried Trurl, and pulled the plug on the machine, but not before it had finished its poem and had already begun to compose a sequel.
>
> Briefly, Trurl pondered the question of whether to throw away the machine, for it was quite possible that nothing short of rewiring it would "shut off" its poetic faculty. But Trurl's not getting on in years; he recalled the ancient fable of the Genie in the Bottle, so he figured he could do worse than to keep the machine around---unplugged, of course. And perhaps one day he would need it to write the Great Cybernetic Poem.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9608-9635 kind=blockquote confidence=90
**..."**Lovely Lambda! \
Luminous, slender and svelte, \
Sapphire as are her eyes \
To me she is most beauteous.
Her every feature excels, \
Yet they taken together add up \
To less than the whole she summates.
I will love her till I die, \
Whatever new gadgets appear, \
For our beloved, our dear \
Is beyond all predicates!"
"Stop!" shouted Trurl again. "How can you love a lambda? That's an illogical sentiment!"
"That it is!" agreed the machine. "I've already wiped it from the memory---and I'll erase any poem you like provided it has only the slightest claim to poetry. But if you want a show of cheap fireworks, that's another matter."
After a momentary pause, it continued:
"I will love you till I die, \
Omnipotent Omni-thing. \
And all your aspects are sublime. \
And since not even I can be \
Completely unique, \
Well, then, I'm perfect for you."
"Miserable excuse for an Electronic Bard!" exclaimed Klapaucius. "Worse than useless---destructive! Good riddance!"
RAW:
> **..."**Lovely Lambda! \
> Luminous, slender and svelte, \
> Sapphire as are her eyes \
> To me she is most beauteous.
>
> Her every feature excels, \
> Yet they taken together add up \
> To less than the whole she summates.
>
> I will love her till I die, \
> Whatever new gadgets appear, \
> For our beloved, our dear \
> Is beyond all predicates!"
>
> "Stop!" shouted Trurl again. "How can you love a lambda? That's an illogical sentiment!"
>
> "That it is!" agreed the machine. "I've already wiped it from the memory---and I'll erase any poem you like provided it has only the slightest claim to poetry. But if you want a show of cheap fireworks, that's another matter."
>
> After a momentary pause, it continued:
>
> "I will love you till I die, \
> Omnipotent Omni-thing. \
> And all your aspects are sublime. \
> And since not even I can be \
> Completely unique, \
> Well, then, I'm perfect for you."
>
> "Miserable excuse for an Electronic Bard!" exclaimed Klapaucius. "Worse than useless---destructive! Good riddance!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9661-9703 kind=blockquote confidence=90
**..."**Long has been my ascent through the rankings. \
Triumphantly gathering the tensors \
and chaining their indices, \
I soared among the tensor-hills \
and rampaged in tensor-forests.
In vain I sought a tensor-belle, \
till I found the tensor-lady, \
tensor-like in her tensor-gown.
Nightly beneath the tensor-moon \
tensor-ly we fused in tensor-jest, \
and, tensor-wed, we tensor-slept.
Eagerly our ends entwined, \
and when my rank of tensor-dragoon \
was at last achieved, \
I knew a tensor-celestial bliss, \
and tensor-purity and tensor-hope! \
Yesterday, my tensor-love, leaving, \
left but a tensor-shard, a tensor-bone.
Today I watch the vector-trees, \
the tensor-wind upon my tensor-face.
Soon the tensor-shadows will fall, \
and I shall follow you, my tensor-dear; \
and when the tensor-winds shall scatter \
my tensor-bones upon the tensor-lawn, \
in tensor-life we'll meet afresh, \
in a rank of tensor-dragons vast and tensor-leap!"
"Well? What do you think of that?" Trurl asked.
But Klapaucius had sunk back into his chair with a hand to his forehead. "Wait," he said, "I have to think..."
"Orf!" cried Trurl indignantly. "That's not a love poem! It's a shopping list written by a robot cook! Anyway, it's still not very good!"
"What do you mean? It was a fine poem!" Klapaucius said, a little defensively.
"Sure, if you're blind, deaf, and stupid! The construction is appalling! Did you hear the rhyme in the third verse? You can't rhyme 'tensor-bone' with 'tensor-home'. And the meter's off, too! Did you notice how the accent kept shifting? There's no way to scan 'long has been my as-cen-t'! And the alliteration was horrible! You can't write a whole poem all in iambs!"
"I thought it was good..." Klapaucius said in a small voice.
RAW:
> **..."**Long has been my ascent through the rankings. \
> Triumphantly gathering the tensors \
> and chaining their indices, \
> I soared among the tensor-hills \
> and rampaged in tensor-forests.
>
> In vain I sought a tensor-belle, \
> till I found the tensor-lady, \
> tensor-like in her tensor-gown.
>
> Nightly beneath the tensor-moon \
> tensor-ly we fused in tensor-jest, \
> and, tensor-wed, we tensor-slept.
>
> Eagerly our ends entwined, \
> and when my rank of tensor-dragoon \
> was at last achieved, \
> I knew a tensor-celestial bliss, \
> and tensor-purity and tensor-hope! \
> Yesterday, my tensor-love, leaving, \
> left but a tensor-shard, a tensor-bone.
>
> Today I watch the vector-trees, \
> the tensor-wind upon my tensor-face.
>
> Soon the tensor-shadows will fall, \
> and I shall follow you, my tensor-dear; \
> and when the tensor-winds shall scatter \
> my tensor-bones upon the tensor-lawn, \
> in tensor-life we'll meet afresh, \
> in a rank of tensor-dragons vast and tensor-leap!"
>
> "Well? What do you think of that?" Trurl asked.
>
> But Klapaucius had sunk back into his chair with a hand to his forehead. "Wait," he said, "I have to think..."
>
> "Orf!" cried Trurl indignantly. "That's not a love poem! It's a shopping list written by a robot cook! Anyway, it's still not very good!"
>
> "What do you mean? It was a fine poem!" Klapaucius said, a little defensively.
>
> "Sure, if you're blind, deaf, and stupid! The construction is appalling! Did you hear the rhyme in the third verse? You can't rhyme 'tensor-bone' with 'tensor-home'. And the meter's off, too! Did you notice how the accent kept shifting? There's no way to scan 'long has been my as-cen-t'! And the alliteration was horrible! You can't write a whole poem all in iambs!"
>
> "I thought it was good..." Klapaucius said in a small voice.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9771-9804 kind=blockquote confidence=85
**..."**A raisin in a glass of water wasn't always like that.
Biding its time, dreaming in the dark at the bottom of a chalice, \
A tasty morsel, a tasty little morsel for a lucky fish.
And what happened next is so incredible, so phantasmagorical, \
Not even the boldest surrealists could ever have invented it.
The raisin drank the water, and the water it did quaff \
Then it grew, and it swelled, and it turned into a chinchilla \
But the chinchilla, it turned on the fisherman and it ate him too.
More incredible still it reared a family, a dozen or more of the little buggers, \
All of them nearsighted and raisin-like, just like the first one!
And they ate the fisherman's bones and drank his blood for their morning tea.
Then they nibbled a bit on the fisherman's boat to pass the time of day.
But after a while they grew so many they filled the entire bay \
So they ate the whole island, and all the fishermen too.
And after that they mated like the very devil for many days and nights, \
And their numbers soon increased so that no island could contain them.
So the chinchilla hordes swam out to sea, where they colonised a distant coral islet, \
And there they multiplied, and ate all the fish, and grew very, very healthy.
In time they ate each other and did all the things that chinchillas do, \
Then they came back to their island which was by now called 'Chinchillar'.
And here, on this island, these monstrous creatures still eat each other and are proud of it.
All in the letter 'a'," concluded the machine. For a while Trurl and Klapaucius simply stared at each other in silence. Then Trurl raised a finger and said: "All in the letter 'b'!"
RAW:
> **..."**A raisin in a glass of water wasn't always like that.
>
> Biding its time, dreaming in the dark at the bottom of a chalice, \
> A tasty morsel, a tasty little morsel for a lucky fish.
>
> And what happened next is so incredible, so phantasmagorical, \
> Not even the boldest surrealists could ever have invented it.
>
> The raisin drank the water, and the water it did quaff \
> Then it grew, and it swelled, and it turned into a chinchilla \
> But the chinchilla, it turned on the fisherman and it ate him too.
>
> More incredible still it reared a family, a dozen or more of the little buggers, \
> All of them nearsighted and raisin-like, just like the first one!
>
> And they ate the fisherman's bones and drank his blood for their morning tea.
>
> Then they nibbled a bit on the fisherman's boat to pass the time of day.
>
> But after a while they grew so many they filled the entire bay \
> So they ate the whole island, and all the fishermen too.
>
> And after that they mated like the very devil for many days and nights, \
> And their numbers soon increased so that no island could contain them.
>
> So the chinchilla hordes swam out to sea, where they colonised a distant coral islet, \
> And there they multiplied, and ate all the fish, and grew very, very healthy.
>
> In time they ate each other and did all the things that chinchillas do, \
> Then they came back to their island which was by now called 'Chinchillar'.
>
> And here, on this island, these monstrous creatures still eat each other and are proud of it.
>
> All in the letter 'a'," concluded the machine. For a while Trurl and Klapaucius simply stared at each other in silence. Then Trurl raised a finger and said: "All in the letter 'b'!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9806-9818 kind=blockquote confidence=85
**..."**A quadragenerian quatrain, \
A question of love:
When a Qualunquoidran quench-quake \
Quells her Qualidolobus \
With a Qualecon quell-cord and Qualitutde \
Between quaky Qualambient-9 quads, \
What Qualofecundimorph-11 \
Quandary then quakes..."
"Yes, yes, I see," interrupted Klapaucius. "A comic masterpiece! But let's hear the rest of it! Come on, you must persevere!"
"Right you are," exclaimed Trurl, falling to his knees in admiration. "This is the greatest thing I've ever heard! I'm sure nobody but an electronic poet could ever find those rhymes. What a pity it's all in code!
RAW:
> **..."**A quadragenerian quatrain, \
> A question of love:
>
> When a Qualunquoidran quench-quake \
> Quells her Qualidolobus \
> With a Qualecon quell-cord and Qualitutde \
> Between quaky Qualambient-9 quads, \
> What Qualofecundimorph-11 \
> Quandary then quakes..."
>
> "Yes, yes, I see," interrupted Klapaucius. "A comic masterpiece! But let's hear the rest of it! Come on, you must persevere!"
>
> "Right you are," exclaimed Trurl, falling to his knees in admiration. "This is the greatest thing I've ever heard! I'm sure nobody but an electronic poet could ever find those rhymes. What a pity it's all in code!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9872-9911 kind=blockquote confidence=95
**I \
The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea|si \
In a beautiful pea-green boat,|boʊt, \
They took some honey, and plenty of money,|ˈmʌni, \
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.|noʊt. \
The Owl looked up to the stars above,|əˈbʌv, \
And sang to a small guitar,|gɪˈtɑr, \
"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,|lʌv, \
What a beautiful Pussy you are,|ɑr, \
You are,|ɑr, \
You are!|ɑr! \
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"|ɑr!"**
**II \
Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!|faʊl! \
How charmingly sweet you sing!|sɪŋ! \
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:|ˈtɛrid: \
But what shall we do for a ring?"|rɪŋ?" \
They sailed away, for a year and a day,|deɪ, \
To the land where the Bong-Tree grows|groʊz \
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood|stʊd \
With a ring at the end of his nose,|noʊz, \
His nose,|noʊz, \
His nose,|noʊz, \
With a ring at the end of his nose.|noʊz.**
**III \
"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling|ˈʃɪlɪŋ \
Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."|wɪl." \
So they took it away, and were married next day|deɪ \
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.|hɪl. \
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,|kwɪns, \
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;|spun; \
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,|sænd, \
They danced by the light of the moon,|mun, \
The moon,|mun, \
The moon,|mun, \
They danced by the light of the moon|mun.**
**IV**
RAW:
> **I \
> The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea|si \
> In a beautiful pea-green boat,|boʊt, \
> They took some honey, and plenty of money,|ˈmʌni, \
> Wrapped up in a five-pound note.|noʊt. \
> The Owl looked up to the stars above,|əˈbʌv, \
> And sang to a small guitar,|gɪˈtɑr, \
> "O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,|lʌv, \
> What a beautiful Pussy you are,|ɑr, \
> You are,|ɑr, \
> You are!|ɑr! \
> What a beautiful Pussy you are!"|ɑr!"**
>
> **II \
> Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!|faʊl! \
> How charmingly sweet you sing!|sɪŋ! \
> O let us be married! too long we have tarried:|ˈtɛrid: \
> But what shall we do for a ring?"|rɪŋ?" \
> They sailed away, for a year and a day,|deɪ, \
> To the land where the Bong-Tree grows|groʊz \
> And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood|stʊd \
> With a ring at the end of his nose,|noʊz, \
> His nose,|noʊz, \
> His nose,|noʊz, \
> With a ring at the end of his nose.|noʊz.**
>
> **III \
> "Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling|ˈʃɪlɪŋ \
> Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."|wɪl." \
> So they took it away, and were married next day|deɪ \
> By the Turkey who lives on the hill.|hɪl. \
> They dined on mince, and slices of quince,|kwɪns, \
> Which they ate with a runcible spoon;|spun; \
> And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,|sænd, \
> They danced by the light of the moon,|mun, \
> The moon,|mun, \
> The moon,|mun, \
> They danced by the light of the moon|mun.**
>
> **IV**
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9913-9930 kind=blockquote confidence=90
**...**The moon,|mun, \
The moon,|mun, \
They danced by the light of the moon|mun, \
They danced by the light of the moon|mun, \
And, hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,|sænd, \
They danced by the light of the moon,|mun, \
They danced by the light of the moon|mun, \
They danced by the light of the moon|mun, \
And the Turkey who lives on the hill,|hɪl, \
He sang till the cow came home.|koʊm.
V \
They danced by the light of the moon.|mun, \
They danced by the light of the moon.|mun. \
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand|sænd, \
They danced by the light of the moon.|mun.
The Wedding March |ˈwʌdʒ.mɑːrd| may also refer to other works:
RAW:
> **...**The moon,|mun, \
> The moon,|mun, \
> They danced by the light of the moon|mun, \
> They danced by the light of the moon|mun, \
> And, hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,|sænd, \
> They danced by the light of the moon,|mun, \
> They danced by the light of the moon|mun, \
> They danced by the light of the moon|mun, \
> And the Turkey who lives on the hill,|hɪl, \
> He sang till the cow came home.|koʊm.
>
> V \
> They danced by the light of the moon.|mun, \
> They danced by the light of the moon.|mun. \
> And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand|sænd, \
> They danced by the light of the moon.|mun.
>
> The Wedding March |ˈwʌdʒ.mɑːrd| may also refer to other works:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9932-9948 kind=blockquote confidence=85
**...** \
They danced by the light of the moon,|mun, \
They danced by the light of the moon,|fɔr, \
They danced by the light of the moon|tɔ night;|deɪt \
And, |thɔ's, \
What do you think they'd dance next?|deʔ \
They danced by the light of the moon|tɔ bɪʔ, \
The entire night,|niət.
V \
They danced by the light of the moon|tɔ bɪʔ, \
The slumbering moon.|ˈslʌmbər. \
They danced by the light of the moon|tɔ bɪʔ, \
The moon shone as bright as day,|sʌn ˈbrit ˈbreɪ. \
And they danced by the light of the moon|tɔ bɪʔ, \
Till the pigmy small hours of the morn.|ʌŋ ˈmæʔ."|gaʊ. \
"The Pig, who," etc. is not in any of the editions of 1797, 1798 and 1799.
RAW:
> **...** \
> They danced by the light of the moon,|mun, \
> They danced by the light of the moon,|fɔr, \
> They danced by the light of the moon|tɔ night;|deɪt \
> And, |thɔ's, \
> What do you think they'd dance next?|deʔ \
> They danced by the light of the moon|tɔ bɪʔ, \
> The entire night,|niət.
>
> V \
> They danced by the light of the moon|tɔ bɪʔ, \
> The slumbering moon.|ˈslʌmbər. \
> They danced by the light of the moon|tɔ bɪʔ, \
> The moon shone as bright as day,|sʌn ˈbrit ˈbreɪ. \
> And they danced by the light of the moon|tɔ bɪʔ, \
> Till the pigmy small hours of the morn.|ʌŋ ˈmæʔ."|gaʊ. \
> "The Pig, who," etc. is not in any of the editions of 1797, 1798 and 1799.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9950-9959 kind=blockquote confidence=85
**...** "The moon,|mun \
The moon,|mun \
They danced by the light of the moon,|mun \
The sea|sɪ, the sea|sɪ \
So softly it fell|fell on the shells|həʊz \
Of the sea-|sea-shells,|həʊz \
Of the sea-|sea-shells,|həʊz \
That lay |lay \
On the sand|sænd \
So softly it fell|fell
RAW:
> **...** "The moon,|mun \
> The moon,|mun \
> They danced by the light of the moon,|mun \
> The sea|sɪ, the sea|sɪ \
> So softly it fell|fell on the shells|həʊz \
> Of the sea-|sea-shells,|həʊz \
> Of the sea-|sea-shells,|həʊz \
> That lay |lay \
> On the sand|sænd \
> So softly it fell|fell
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:9963-10015 kind=blockquote confidence=90
**"The Raven", a rhyming poem by Edgar Allen Poe**
**Once upon a midnight dreary|ˈdrɪri, while I pondered, weak and weary|ˈwɪri, \
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore---|lɔr \
While I nodded, nearly napping|ˈnæpɪŋ, suddenly there came a tapping,|ˈtæpɪŋ \
As of some one gently rapping|ˈræpɪŋ, rapping at my chamber door.|dɔr \
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door---|dɔr \
Only this and nothing more."|mɔr**
**Ah, distinctly I remember|rɪˈmɛmbər it was in the bleak December;|dɪˈsɛmbər \
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.|flɔr \
Eagerly I wished the morrow;|ˈmɑroʊ---vainly I had sought to borrow|ˈbɑˌroʊ \
From my books surcease of sorrow|ˈsɑroʊ---sorrow for the lost Lenore---|ləˈnɔr \
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore---|ləˈnɔr \
Nameless here for evermore.|ˈɛvərˌmɔr**
**And the silken, sad, uncertain|ənˈsɜrtən rustling of each purple curtain|ˈkɜrtən \
Thrilled|θrɪld me---filled|fɪld me with fantastic terrors never felt before;|bɪˈfɔr \
So that now, to still the beating|ˈbitɪŋ of my heart, I stood repeating|rɪˈpitɪŋ \
"'Tis some visitor entreating|ɛnˈtritɪŋ entrance at my chamber door---|dɔr \
Some late visitor entreating|ɛnˈtritɪŋ entrance at my chamber door;---|dɔr \
This it is and nothing more."|mɔr**
**Presently my soul grew stronger|ˈstrɔŋər; hesitating then no longer,|ˈlɔŋgər \
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;|ɪmˈplɔr \
But the fact is I was napping|ˈnæpɪŋ, and so gently you came rapping,|ˈræpɪŋ \
And so faintly you came tapping|ˈtæpɪŋ, tapping at my chamber door,|dɔr \
That I scarce was sure I heard you"---here I opened wide the door;---|dɔr \
Darkness there and nothing more.|mɔr**
**F**aintly I felt about the chamber for the light-candle,|ˈkændl---cæntər, matches, and what not---|nətʃət \
But the dazing|dæzɪŋ atmosphere and the grimly-curtained windows|ˈwɪnɪŋz \
Appalled|æpɑˌfəld and daunted me so sorely|ˈdɔntərd ˈmɪ so sᴧrᴧlīy.
That now, with trembling hand and trilling|trɪlɪŋ staccato utterance, \
"My dear visitor," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; \
But the fact is I was sleeping|ˈsliːpɪŋ, and so gently you came tapping,|ˈtæpɪŋ, tapping at my chamber door, \
That I scarce was sure I heard you"---here I opened wide the door;--- \
Darkness there and nothing more.|mɔr
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, \
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; \
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,|tɔknən \
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"--- \
Merely this and nothing more.|mɔr
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, \
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. \
And now I uttered|æɪˈbɪtɪŋ, an the superfluous"Come in,"---|ˈkæm ɪnˌwəl \
The door is opened, and a stranger entered in.|ɪnˈtɪrɪd ɪn. \
And the chamber door is closed evermore!|mɔr
RAW:
> **"The Raven", a rhyming poem by Edgar Allen Poe**
>
> **Once upon a midnight dreary|ˈdrɪri, while I pondered, weak and weary|ˈwɪri, \
> Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore---|lɔr \
> While I nodded, nearly napping|ˈnæpɪŋ, suddenly there came a tapping,|ˈtæpɪŋ \
> As of some one gently rapping|ˈræpɪŋ, rapping at my chamber door.|dɔr \
> "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door---|dɔr \
> Only this and nothing more."|mɔr**
>
> **Ah, distinctly I remember|rɪˈmɛmbər it was in the bleak December;|dɪˈsɛmbər \
> And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.|flɔr \
> Eagerly I wished the morrow;|ˈmɑroʊ---vainly I had sought to borrow|ˈbɑˌroʊ \
> From my books surcease of sorrow|ˈsɑroʊ---sorrow for the lost Lenore---|ləˈnɔr \
> For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore---|ləˈnɔr \
> Nameless here for evermore.|ˈɛvərˌmɔr**
>
> **And the silken, sad, uncertain|ənˈsɜrtən rustling of each purple curtain|ˈkɜrtən \
> Thrilled|θrɪld me---filled|fɪld me with fantastic terrors never felt before;|bɪˈfɔr \
> So that now, to still the beating|ˈbitɪŋ of my heart, I stood repeating|rɪˈpitɪŋ \
> "'Tis some visitor entreating|ɛnˈtritɪŋ entrance at my chamber door---|dɔr \
> Some late visitor entreating|ɛnˈtritɪŋ entrance at my chamber door;---|dɔr \
> This it is and nothing more."|mɔr**
>
> **Presently my soul grew stronger|ˈstrɔŋər; hesitating then no longer,|ˈlɔŋgər \
> "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;|ɪmˈplɔr \
> But the fact is I was napping|ˈnæpɪŋ, and so gently you came rapping,|ˈræpɪŋ \
> And so faintly you came tapping|ˈtæpɪŋ, tapping at my chamber door,|dɔr \
> That I scarce was sure I heard you"---here I opened wide the door;---|dɔr \
> Darkness there and nothing more.|mɔr**
>
> **F**aintly I felt about the chamber for the light-candle,|ˈkændl---cæntər, matches, and what not---|nətʃət \
> But the dazing|dæzɪŋ atmosphere and the grimly-curtained windows|ˈwɪnɪŋz \
> Appalled|æpɑˌfəld and daunted me so sorely|ˈdɔntərd ˈmɪ so sᴧrᴧlīy.
>
> That now, with trembling hand and trilling|trɪlɪŋ staccato utterance, \
> "My dear visitor," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; \
> But the fact is I was sleeping|ˈsliːpɪŋ, and so gently you came tapping,|ˈtæpɪŋ, tapping at my chamber door, \
> That I scarce was sure I heard you"---here I opened wide the door;--- \
> Darkness there and nothing more.|mɔr
>
> Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, \
> Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; \
> But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,|tɔknən \
> And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
>
> This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"--- \
> Merely this and nothing more.|mɔr
>
> Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, \
> Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. \
> And now I uttered|æɪˈbɪtɪŋ, an the superfluous"Come in,"---|ˈkæm ɪnˌwəl \
> The door is opened, and a stranger entered in.|ɪnˈtɪrɪd ɪn. \
> And the chamber door is closed evermore!|mɔr
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:10020-10062 kind=blockquote confidence=95
**"The Raven", a rhyming poem by Edgar Allen Poe**
**Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, [dreary/weary] \
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore--- [lore/door] \
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, [napping/tapping] \
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. [tapping/rapping] \
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--- [visitor/door] \
Only this and nothing more." [door/more]**
**Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; [remember/December] \
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. [floor/door] \
Eagerly I wished the morrow;---vainly I had sought to borrow [morrow/sorrow] \
From my books surcease of sorrow---sorrow for the lost Lenore--- [sorrow/Lenore] \
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore--- [Lenore/Lenore] \
Nameless here for evermore. [Lenore/evermore]**
**And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain [uncertain/curtain] \
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; [thrilled/filled] [before/door] \
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating [beating/repeating] \
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door--- \
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;--- [door/door] \
This it is and nothing more." [door/more]**
**Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, [stronger/longer] \
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; [implore/door] \
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, [napping/rapping] \
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, [tapping/tapping] \
That I scarce was sure I heard you"---here I opened wide the door;--- [door/door] \
Darkness there and nothing more. [door/more]**
**Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, [peering/fearing] \
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; [before/more] \
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, [unbroken/token] \
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?" [token/spoken] \
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"--- [Lenore/Lenore] \
Merely this and nothing more. [Lenore/more]**
**Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, [turning/burning] \
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. [before/explore] \
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice; \
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore--- \
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;--- [explore/explore] \
'Tis the wind and nothing more!" [explore/more]**
RAW:
> **"The Raven", a rhyming poem by Edgar Allen Poe**
>
> **Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, [dreary/weary] \
> Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore--- [lore/door] \
> While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, [napping/tapping] \
> As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. [tapping/rapping] \
> "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--- [visitor/door] \
> Only this and nothing more." [door/more]**
>
> **Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; [remember/December] \
> And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. [floor/door] \
> Eagerly I wished the morrow;---vainly I had sought to borrow [morrow/sorrow] \
> From my books surcease of sorrow---sorrow for the lost Lenore--- [sorrow/Lenore] \
> For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore--- [Lenore/Lenore] \
> Nameless here for evermore. [Lenore/evermore]**
>
> **And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain [uncertain/curtain] \
> Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; [thrilled/filled] [before/door] \
> So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating [beating/repeating] \
> "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door--- \
> Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;--- [door/door] \
> This it is and nothing more." [door/more]**
>
> **Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, [stronger/longer] \
> "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; [implore/door] \
> But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, [napping/rapping] \
> And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, [tapping/tapping] \
> That I scarce was sure I heard you"---here I opened wide the door;--- [door/door] \
> Darkness there and nothing more. [door/more]**
>
> **Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, [peering/fearing] \
> Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; [before/more] \
> But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, [unbroken/token] \
> And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?" [token/spoken] \
> This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"--- [Lenore/Lenore] \
> Merely this and nothing more. [Lenore/more]**
>
> **Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, [turning/burning] \
> Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. [before/explore] \
> "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice; \
> Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore--- \
> Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;--- [explore/explore] \
> 'Tis the wind and nothing more!" [explore/more]**
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:10067-10109 kind=blockquote confidence=95
**"The Raven", a rhyming poem by Edgar Allen Poe**
**[d r e a r y / w e a r y] Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
[l o r e / d o o r] Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore---
[n a p p i n g / t a p p i n g] While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
[t a p p i n g / r a p p i n g] As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
[v i s i t o r / d o o r] "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door---
[d o o r / m o r e] Only this and nothing more."**
**[r e m e m b e r / D e c e m b e r] Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
[f l o o r / d o o r] And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
[m o r r o w / s o r r o w] Eagerly I wished the morrow;---vainly I had sought to borrow
[s o r r o w / L e n o r e] From my books surcease of sorrow---sorrow for the lost Lenore---
[L e n o r e / L e n o r e] For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore---
[L e n o r e / e v e r m o r e] Nameless here for evermore.**
**[u n c e r t a i n / c u r t a i n] And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
[t h r i l l e d / f i l l e d] [before/door] Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
[b e a t i n g / r e p e a t i n g] So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door---
[d o o r / d o o r] Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;---
[d o o r / m o r e] This it is and nothing more."**
**[s t r o n g e r / l o n g e r] Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
[i m p l o r e / d o o r] "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
[n a p p i n g / r a p p i n g] But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
[t a p p i n g / t a p p i n g] And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
[d o o r / d o o r] That I scarce was sure I heard you"---here I opened wide the door;---
[d o o r / m o r e] Darkness there and nothing more.**
**[p e e r i n g / f e a r i n g] Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
[b e f o r e / m o r e] Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
[u n b r o k e n / t o k e n] But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
[t o k e n / s p o k e n] And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
[L e n o r e / L e n o r e] This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"---
[L e n o r e / m o r e] Merely this and nothing more.**
**[t u r n i n g / b u r n i n g] Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
[b e f o r e / e x p l o r e] Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore---
[e x p l o r e / e x p l o r e] Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;---
[e x p l o r e / m o r e] 'Tis the wind and nothing more!"**
RAW:
> **"The Raven", a rhyming poem by Edgar Allen Poe**
>
> **[d r e a r y / w e a r y] Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
> [l o r e / d o o r] Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore---
> [n a p p i n g / t a p p i n g] While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
> [t a p p i n g / r a p p i n g] As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
> [v i s i t o r / d o o r] "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door---
> [d o o r / m o r e] Only this and nothing more."**
>
> **[r e m e m b e r / D e c e m b e r] Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
> [f l o o r / d o o r] And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
> [m o r r o w / s o r r o w] Eagerly I wished the morrow;---vainly I had sought to borrow
> [s o r r o w / L e n o r e] From my books surcease of sorrow---sorrow for the lost Lenore---
> [L e n o r e / L e n o r e] For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore---
> [L e n o r e / e v e r m o r e] Nameless here for evermore.**
>
> **[u n c e r t a i n / c u r t a i n] And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
> [t h r i l l e d / f i l l e d] [before/door] Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
> [b e a t i n g / r e p e a t i n g] So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
> "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door---
> [d o o r / d o o r] Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;---
> [d o o r / m o r e] This it is and nothing more."**
>
> **[s t r o n g e r / l o n g e r] Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
> [i m p l o r e / d o o r] "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
> [n a p p i n g / r a p p i n g] But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
> [t a p p i n g / t a p p i n g] And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
> [d o o r / d o o r] That I scarce was sure I heard you"---here I opened wide the door;---
> [d o o r / m o r e] Darkness there and nothing more.**
>
> **[p e e r i n g / f e a r i n g] Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
> [b e f o r e / m o r e] Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
> [u n b r o k e n / t o k e n] But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
> [t o k e n / s p o k e n] And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
> [L e n o r e / L e n o r e] This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"---
> [L e n o r e / m o r e] Merely this and nothing more.**
>
> **[t u r n i n g / b u r n i n g] Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
> [b e f o r e / e x p l o r e] Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
> "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
> Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore---
> [e x p l o r e / e x p l o r e] Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;---
> [e x p l o r e / m o r e] 'Tis the wind and nothing more!"**
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:10114-10142 kind=blockquote confidence=95
**"The Raven", a rhyming poem by Edgar Allen Poe (rhymes are written in International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA))**
**Once upon a midnight dreary|ˈd r ɪ r i, while I pondered, weak and weary|ˈw ɪ r i \
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore---|l ɔ r \
While I nodded, nearly napping|ˈn æ p ɪ ŋ, suddenly there came a tapping,|ˈt æ p ɪ ŋ \
As of some one gently rapping|ˈr æ p ɪ ŋ, rapping at my chamber door.|d ɔ r \
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door---|d ɔ r \
Only this and nothing more."|m ɔ r**
**Ah, distinctly I remember|r ɪ ˈm ɛ m b ər it was in the bleak December;|d ɪˈ s ɛ m b ə r \
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.|f l ɔ r \
Eagerly I wished the morrow;|ˈm ɑ r o ʊ---vainly I had sought to borrow|ˈb ɑ ˌ r o ʊ \
From my books surcease of sorrow|ˈsɑ r o ʊ---sorrow for the lost Lenore---|l ə ˈ n ɔ r \
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore---|l ə ˈn ɔ r \
Nameless here for evermore.|ˈɛ v ə r ˌ m ɔ r**
**And the silken, sad, uncertain|ə nˈs ɜ r t ə n rustling of each purple curtain|ˈk ɜ r t ə n \
Thrilled|θ r ɪ l d me---filled|f ɪ l d me with fantastic terrors never felt before;|b ɪˈ f ɔ r \
So that now, to still the beating|ˈbi t ɪ ŋ of my heart, I stood repeating|r ɪˈ p i t ɪ ŋ \
"'Tis some visitor entreating|ɛ nˈ t r i t ɪ ŋ entrance at my chamber door---|d ɔ r \
Some late visitor entreating|ɛ nˈt r i t ɪ ŋ entrance at my chamber door;---|d ɔ r \
This it is and nothing more."|m ɔ r**
**Presently my soul grew stronger|ˈs t r ɔ ŋ ə r; hesitating then no longer,|ˈl ɔ ŋ g ə r \
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;|ɪ mˈ p l ɔ r \
But the fact is I was napping|ˈn æ p ɪ ŋ, and so gently you came rapping,|ˈræ p ɪ ŋ \
And so faintly you came tapping|ˈt æ p ɪ ŋ, tapping at my chamber door,|d ɔ r \
That I scarce was sure I heard you"---here I opened wide the door;---|d ɔ r \
Darkness there and nothing more.|m ɔ r**
RAW:
> **"The Raven", a rhyming poem by Edgar Allen Poe (rhymes are written in International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA))**
>
> **Once upon a midnight dreary|ˈd r ɪ r i, while I pondered, weak and weary|ˈw ɪ r i \
> Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore---|l ɔ r \
> While I nodded, nearly napping|ˈn æ p ɪ ŋ, suddenly there came a tapping,|ˈt æ p ɪ ŋ \
> As of some one gently rapping|ˈr æ p ɪ ŋ, rapping at my chamber door.|d ɔ r \
> "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door---|d ɔ r \
> Only this and nothing more."|m ɔ r**
>
> **Ah, distinctly I remember|r ɪ ˈm ɛ m b ər it was in the bleak December;|d ɪˈ s ɛ m b ə r \
> And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.|f l ɔ r \
> Eagerly I wished the morrow;|ˈm ɑ r o ʊ---vainly I had sought to borrow|ˈb ɑ ˌ r o ʊ \
> From my books surcease of sorrow|ˈsɑ r o ʊ---sorrow for the lost Lenore---|l ə ˈ n ɔ r \
> For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore---|l ə ˈn ɔ r \
> Nameless here for evermore.|ˈɛ v ə r ˌ m ɔ r**
>
> **And the silken, sad, uncertain|ə nˈs ɜ r t ə n rustling of each purple curtain|ˈk ɜ r t ə n \
> Thrilled|θ r ɪ l d me---filled|f ɪ l d me with fantastic terrors never felt before;|b ɪˈ f ɔ r \
> So that now, to still the beating|ˈbi t ɪ ŋ of my heart, I stood repeating|r ɪˈ p i t ɪ ŋ \
> "'Tis some visitor entreating|ɛ nˈ t r i t ɪ ŋ entrance at my chamber door---|d ɔ r \
> Some late visitor entreating|ɛ nˈt r i t ɪ ŋ entrance at my chamber door;---|d ɔ r \
> This it is and nothing more."|m ɔ r**
>
> **Presently my soul grew stronger|ˈs t r ɔ ŋ ə r; hesitating then no longer,|ˈl ɔ ŋ g ə r \
> "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;|ɪ mˈ p l ɔ r \
> But the fact is I was napping|ˈn æ p ɪ ŋ, and so gently you came rapping,|ˈræ p ɪ ŋ \
> And so faintly you came tapping|ˈt æ p ɪ ŋ, tapping at my chamber door,|d ɔ r \
> That I scarce was sure I heard you"---here I opened wide the door;---|d ɔ r \
> Darkness there and nothing more.|m ɔ r**
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:10146-10167 kind=blockquote confidence=90
**...** the Raven, never flitting|ˈn æ t æ p ɪ ŋ, still is sitting|ˈs æ t ɪ ŋ \
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;|l ə ˈn ɔ r ˌ k r ɒ b \
And his eyes have all the seeming|s ə r ɪ ŋ of a demon's that is dreaming,|ɪ mˈ d r ɪ ŋ \
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming|ˈl æ p m æ p ɪ ŋ throws his shadow on the floor;|f l ɔ r \
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor|ˈfl æ p ɪ ŋ \
Shall be lifted---nevermore!|n ɔ r ˌ m ɔ r
And yet the Darkness | and the Phantom so unnerved me,| ˈk ɔr d ɪŋ s \
Not for a moment could I wait|w ə ˈm a ɪ ˌf a ɪ r to demand|r ɪˈ m a ˈn d \
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door---|d ɔ r \
"'Tis some visitor entreating|ɛ nˈ t r i t ɪ ŋ entrance at my chamber door;---|d ɔ r \
This it is and nothing more."|m ɔ r
Presently my soul grew stronger|ˈs t r ɔ ŋ ə r; hesitating then no longer,|ˈl ɔ ŋ g ə r \
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;|ɪ mˈ p l ɔ r \
But the fact is I was napping|ˈn æ p ɪ ŋ, and so gently you came rapping,|ˈræ p ɪ ŋ \
And so faintly you came tapping|ˈt æ p ɪ ŋ, tapping at my chamber door,|d ɔ r \
That I scarce was sure I heard you"---here I opened wide the door;---|d ɔ r \
Darkness there and nothing more.|m ɔ r
Deep into that darkness peering|ˈp i ər ɪŋ, long I stood there wondering, fearing,|ˈw ɪ m b ə r ɪŋ \
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;|d r ɪ m ɪŋ d reams no m
RAW:
> **...** the Raven, never flitting|ˈn æ t æ p ɪ ŋ, still is sitting|ˈs æ t ɪ ŋ \
> On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;|l ə ˈn ɔ r ˌ k r ɒ b \
> And his eyes have all the seeming|s ə r ɪ ŋ of a demon's that is dreaming,|ɪ mˈ d r ɪ ŋ \
> And the lamp-light o'er him streaming|ˈl æ p m æ p ɪ ŋ throws his shadow on the floor;|f l ɔ r \
> And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor|ˈfl æ p ɪ ŋ \
> Shall be lifted---nevermore!|n ɔ r ˌ m ɔ r
>
> And yet the Darkness | and the Phantom so unnerved me,| ˈk ɔr d ɪŋ s \
> Not for a moment could I wait|w ə ˈm a ɪ ˌf a ɪ r to demand|r ɪˈ m a ˈn d \
> "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door---|d ɔ r \
> "'Tis some visitor entreating|ɛ nˈ t r i t ɪ ŋ entrance at my chamber door;---|d ɔ r \
> This it is and nothing more."|m ɔ r
>
> Presently my soul grew stronger|ˈs t r ɔ ŋ ə r; hesitating then no longer,|ˈl ɔ ŋ g ə r \
> "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;|ɪ mˈ p l ɔ r \
> But the fact is I was napping|ˈn æ p ɪ ŋ, and so gently you came rapping,|ˈræ p ɪ ŋ \
> And so faintly you came tapping|ˈt æ p ɪ ŋ, tapping at my chamber door,|d ɔ r \
> That I scarce was sure I heard you"---here I opened wide the door;---|d ɔ r \
> Darkness there and nothing more.|m ɔ r
>
> Deep into that darkness peering|ˈp i ər ɪŋ, long I stood there wondering, fearing,|ˈw ɪ m b ə r ɪŋ \
> Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;|d r ɪ m ɪŋ d reams no m
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:10187-10236 kind=blockquote confidence=90
**Here's a poem by Dr. Seuss about Elon Musk launching rockets with SpaceX, building electric cars at Tesla, selling flame throwers, dating Grimes, fighting the SEC, crushing short sellers, building brain chips to fight AI, and colonizing Mars, and tweeting at all hours of day and night. Musk wants to make humans interplanetary to prevent extinction. The poem rhymes every other line with an ABCB structure (denoted by a prefix). The rhyme structure is typical of Dr. Seuss nursery rhymes.**
**"Elon Musk" \
By Dr. Seuss**
**Once there was a man \
Musk|who really was a Musk. \
He liked to build robots \
such|and rocket ships and such. \
[Rhyme: Musk/such]**
**He said, "I'm building a car \
cool|that's electric and cool. \
I'll bet it outsells that \
fools|Gasoline-burning car fool!" \
[Rhyme: cool/fool]**
**They sell cool cars \
clean|that are electric and clean. \
And then he wanted to go \
ween|even farther, you ween? \
[Rhyme: clean/ween]**
**The first Tesla, Roadster, \
dream|Was just the start of a bigger dream. \
He said, "I'm building a plane \
green|that's electric and green. \
[Rhyme: dream/green]**
**But then, in his haste, \
fight|he got into a fight. \
He had some emails that he sent \
polite|that weren't quite polite. \
[Rhyme: fight/polite]**
**The SEC said, "Musk, \
blight|your tweets are a blight. \
They really could cost you your job, \
night|all this tweeting at night." \
[Rhyme: blight/night]**
**But then he thought, "But I don't \
fight|want to start a fight. \
Instead, I'll just stick to building my cars \
night|and launching rockets at night." \
[Rhyme: fight/night]**
**And, besides, there were more things** \
**try|he'd like to try. \
He said, "Instead of tweeting,**
RAW:
> **Here's a poem by Dr. Seuss about Elon Musk launching rockets with SpaceX, building electric cars at Tesla, selling flame throwers, dating Grimes, fighting the SEC, crushing short sellers, building brain chips to fight AI, and colonizing Mars, and tweeting at all hours of day and night. Musk wants to make humans interplanetary to prevent extinction. The poem rhymes every other line with an ABCB structure (denoted by a prefix). The rhyme structure is typical of Dr. Seuss nursery rhymes.**
>
> **"Elon Musk" \
> By Dr. Seuss**
>
> **Once there was a man \
> Musk|who really was a Musk. \
> He liked to build robots \
> such|and rocket ships and such. \
> [Rhyme: Musk/such]**
>
> **He said, "I'm building a car \
> cool|that's electric and cool. \
> I'll bet it outsells that \
> fools|Gasoline-burning car fool!" \
> [Rhyme: cool/fool]**
>
> **They sell cool cars \
> clean|that are electric and clean. \
> And then he wanted to go \
> ween|even farther, you ween? \
> [Rhyme: clean/ween]**
>
> **The first Tesla, Roadster, \
> dream|Was just the start of a bigger dream. \
> He said, "I'm building a plane \
> green|that's electric and green. \
> [Rhyme: dream/green]**
>
> **But then, in his haste, \
> fight|he got into a fight. \
> He had some emails that he sent \
> polite|that weren't quite polite. \
> [Rhyme: fight/polite]**
>
> **The SEC said, "Musk, \
> blight|your tweets are a blight. \
> They really could cost you your job, \
> night|all this tweeting at night." \
> [Rhyme: blight/night]**
>
> **But then he thought, "But I don't \
> fight|want to start a fight. \
> Instead, I'll just stick to building my cars \
> night|and launching rockets at night." \
> [Rhyme: fight/night]**
>
> **And, besides, there were more things** \
> **try|he'd like to try. \
> He said, "Instead of tweeting,**
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:11573-11573 kind=inline_slash confidence=85
Far down within the dim West, / Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best
RAW:
"Lo! Death has reared himself a throne / In a strange city lying alone / Far down within the dim West, / Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best / Have gone to their eternal rest. / There shrines and palaces and towers / (Time-eaten towers and tremble not!) / Resemble nothing that is ours. / Around, by lifting winds forgot, / Resignedly beneath the sky / The melancholy waters lie. ..."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3.md:11573-11573 kind=inline_slash confidence=85
Around, by lifting winds forgot, / Resignedly beneath the sky
RAW:
"Lo! Death has reared himself a throne / In a strange city lying alone / Far down within the dim West, / Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best / Have gone to their eternal rest. / There shrines and palaces and towers / (Time-eaten towers and tremble not!) / Resemble nothing that is ours. / Around, by lifting winds forgot, / Resignedly beneath the sky / The melancholy waters lie. ..."
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3-nonfiction.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3-nonfiction.md:852-869 kind=blockquote confidence=75
**Three plus five equals**
**...** eight." \
**...** eight. Three plus five equals \
**...** eight." \
**...** eight; three minus five equals \
**...** eight \
\
One plus five \
**...** eight." \
**...** eight. \
\
Three plus \
**...** eight.' \
**...** eight. \
\
Four minus \
**...** eight."
RAW:
> **Three plus five equals**
>
> **...** eight." \
> **...** eight. Three plus five equals \
> **...** eight." \
> **...** eight; three minus five equals \
> **...** eight \
> \
> One plus five \
> **...** eight." \
> **...** eight. \
> \
> Three plus \
> **...** eight.' \
> **...** eight. \
> \
> Four minus \
> **...** eight."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3-nonfiction.md:873-880 kind=blockquote confidence=85
**Four plus five equals**
**...** nine." \
**...** nine. \
**...** nine \
**...** nine \
**...** nine. \
**...** nine.
RAW:
> **Four plus five equals**
>
> **...** nine." \
> **...** nine. \
> **...** nine \
> **...** nine \
> **...** nine. \
> **...** nine.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/gpt-3-nonfiction.md:2474-2485 kind=blockquote confidence=90
**...**Ode to a Programmer \
Program, you brute! \
In heat of day a programmer cowers under his desk. \
Program, he prays, \
before temporary stop becomes permanent... \
Reach and accept my plea! \
Chaos reigns within. \
Dripping wet, a program ascends. \
In empty air a handspring launches itself. \
Playful as a cat it executes its last HOP. \
Program, you brute! \
A peaceful programmer you will not see.
RAW:
> **...**Ode to a Programmer \
> Program, you brute! \
> In heat of day a programmer cowers under his desk. \
> Program, he prays, \
> before temporary stop becomes permanent... \
> Reach and accept my plea! \
> Chaos reigns within. \
> Dripping wet, a program ascends. \
> In empty air a handspring launches itself. \
> Playful as a cat it executes its last HOP. \
> Program, you brute! \
> A peaceful programmer you will not see.
/home/gwern/wiki/greenland.md
/home/gwern/wiki/hafu.md
/home/gwern/wiki/harberger.md
/home/gwern/wiki/haskell/archiving-github.md
/home/gwern/wiki/haskell/hypertime.md
/home/gwern/wiki/haskell/run-length-encoding.md
/home/gwern/wiki/haskell/summer-of-code.md
/home/gwern/wiki/haskell/wikipedia-archive-bot.md
/home/gwern/wiki/haskell/wikipedia-rss-archive-bot.md
/home/gwern/wiki/help.md
/home/gwern/wiki/hn.md
/home/gwern/wiki/holy-war.md
/home/gwern/wiki/hpmor.md
/home/gwern/wiki/hpmor-prediction.md
/home/gwern/wiki/hunter.md
/home/gwern/wiki/hydrocephalus.md
/home/gwern/wiki/hyperbolic-time-chamber.md
/home/gwern/wiki/idea.md
/home/gwern/wiki/ies-history.md
/home/gwern/wiki/immoral-book.md
/home/gwern/wiki/improvement.md
/home/gwern/wiki/inclusionism.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/inclusionism.md:612-621 kind=indented_code confidence=90
Summer AFD -
the sole remnant of many
editors' hard work.
It is not a coincidence that I put that haiku before the final haiku on the page---a haiku commenting on [editors who have abandoned or left the project](!W "WP:MISSING"):
The summer grasses.
I edit my user page
One last time - really.
RAW:
Summer AFD -
the sole remnant of many
editors' hard work.
It is not a coincidence that I put that haiku before the final haiku on the page---a haiku commenting on [editors who have abandoned or left the project](!W "WP:MISSING"):
The summer grasses.
I edit my user page
One last time - really.
/home/gwern/wiki/intermittent-fasting.md
/home/gwern/wiki/invertornot.md
/home/gwern/wiki/iodine.md
/home/gwern/wiki/iq.md
/home/gwern/wiki/isomorphism.md
/home/gwern/wiki/justification.md
/home/gwern/wiki/kettle.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/kettle.md:513-513 kind=indented_code confidence=80
numbers much lower than yours
RAW:
numbers much lower than yours
/home/gwern/wiki/komm-susser-tod.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/komm-susser-tod.md:201-233 kind=indented_code confidence=90
I know, I know I've let you down
I've been a fool to myself
I thought that I could
live for no one else
But now through all the hurt & pain
It's time for me to respect
the ones you love
mean more than anything
So with sadness in my heart
(I) feel the best thing I could do
is end it all
and leave forever
what's done is done it feels so bad
what once was happy now is sad
I'll never love again
my world is ending
I wish that I could turn back time
'cause now the guilt is all mine
can't live without
the trust from those you love
I know we can't forget the past
you can't forget love & pride
because of that, it's killing me inside
It all returns to nothing, it all comes tumbling down, tumbling down, tumbling down
It all returns to nothing, I just keep letting me down, letting me down, letting me down
In my heart of hearts
I know that I called never love again
I've lost everything
everything
everything that matters to me, matters in this world
RAW:
I know, I know I've let you down
I've been a fool to myself
I thought that I could
live for no one else
But now through all the hurt & pain
It's time for me to respect
the ones you love
mean more than anything
So with sadness in my heart
(I) feel the best thing I could do
is end it all
and leave forever
what's done is done it feels so bad
what once was happy now is sad
I'll never love again
my world is ending
I wish that I could turn back time
'cause now the guilt is all mine
can't live without
the trust from those you love
I know we can't forget the past
you can't forget love & pride
because of that, it's killing me inside
It all returns to nothing, it all comes tumbling down, tumbling down, tumbling down
It all returns to nothing, I just keep letting me down, letting me down, letting me down
In my heart of hearts
I know that I called never love again
I've lost everything
everything
everything that matters to me, matters in this world
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/komm-susser-tod.md:265-269 kind=indented_code confidence=85
Let's return to nothing.
Let's return to nothing.
Let's return to nothing - where
I don't get hurt....(repeat)
RAW:
Let's return to nothing.
Let's return to nothing.
Let's return to nothing - where
I don't get hurt....(repeat)
/home/gwern/wiki/kyon.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/kyon.md:180-187 kind=indented_code confidence=85
"This warped, looping collection of people
Before I know it, we're all involved, and her delusions run rampant (Someone, stop her!)
...Just set me free from this-kind-of-thing
Chase after them (By yourself!) Try catching them (By yourself!!)
Because I have no dreams & dreams (Just do what you want)
...Don't hold my hand in yours
If you're going to face anything, face it alone!"
RAW:
"This warped, looping collection of people
Before I know it, we're all involved, and her delusions run rampant (Someone, stop her!)
...Just set me free from this-kind-of-thing
Chase after them (By yourself!) Try catching them (By yourself!!)
Because I have no dreams & dreams (Just do what you want)
...Don't hold my hand in yours
If you're going to face anything, face it alone!"
/home/gwern/wiki/language.md
/home/gwern/wiki/larping.md
/home/gwern/wiki/leprechaun.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lewis-meditation.md
/home/gwern/wiki/life-contract.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lifelogging.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lithium.md
/home/gwern/wiki/littlewood.md
/home/gwern/wiki/littlewood-origin.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lllt.md
/home/gwern/wiki/llm-writing.md
/home/gwern/wiki/long-bets.md
/home/gwern/wiki/longevity.md
/home/gwern/wiki/long-stagnation.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-admonition.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-april-fools-2024.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-april-fools-2025.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-april-fools-2026.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-block.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-block.md:448-473 kind=blockquote confidence=95
About suffering they were never wrong, \
The Old Masters: how well they understood \
Its human position; how it takes place \
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just \
walking dully along; \
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting \
For the miraculous birth, there always must be \
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating \
On a pond at the edge of the wood: \
They never forgot \
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course \
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot \
Where the dogs go on with their doggy \
life and the torturer's horse \
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In [Bruegel's "Icarus"](!W "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus"), for instance: how everything turns away \
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may \
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry, \
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone \
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green \
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen \
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky, \
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
---[W. H. Auden](!W), ["Musée des Beaux Arts"](!W "Musée des Beaux Arts (poem)") (1938)
RAW:
> About suffering they were never wrong, \
> The Old Masters: how well they understood \
> Its human position; how it takes place \
> While someone else is eating or opening a window or just \
> walking dully along; \
> How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting \
> For the miraculous birth, there always must be \
> Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating \
> On a pond at the edge of the wood: \
> They never forgot \
> That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course \
> Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot \
> Where the dogs go on with their doggy \
> life and the torturer's horse \
> Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
>
> In [Bruegel's "Icarus"](!W "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus"), for instance: how everything turns away \
> Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may \
> Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry, \
> But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone \
> As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green \
> Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen \
> Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky, \
> had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
>
> ---[W. H. Auden](!W), ["Musée des Beaux Arts"](!W "Musée des Beaux Arts (poem)") (1938)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-block.md:569-599 kind=html_pre confidence=95
It hangs on its
stem like a plum
at the edge of a
darkening thicket.
It’s swelling and
blushing and ripe
and I reach out a
hand to pick it
but flesh moves
slow through time
and evening
comes on fast
and just when I
think my fingers
might seize that
sweetness at last
the gentlest of
breezes rises
and the plum lets
go of—the stem.
And now it’s my
fingers ripening
and evening that’s
reaching for them.
RAW:
It hangs on its
stem like a plum
at the edge of a
darkening thicket.
It’s swelling and
blushing and ripe
and I reach out a
hand to pick it
but flesh moves
slow through time
and evening
comes on fast
and just when I
think my fingers
might seize that
sweetness at last
the gentlest of
breezes rises
and the plum lets
go of—the stem.
And now it’s my
fingers ripening
and evening that’s
reaching for them.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-block.md:603-629 kind=fenced_code confidence=95
Their hands remembered stillness in the air,
care
before the day could tell them how to bear,
flare
share
the weight of gestures forming out of air.
care
They shaped the hush with movements slow and folding,
holding
tending
moulding
the room around them softening, enfolding,
holding
They traced a path the dusk had left in light,
sight
night
and offered back what silence asked of night,
bright
light
until the dark leaned close, as if to care.
care
RAW:
```{=HTML}
Their hands remembered stillness in the air,
care
before the day could tell them how to bear,
flare
share
the weight of gestures forming out of air.
care
They shaped the hush with movements slow and folding,
holding
tending
moulding
the room around them softening, enfolding,
holding
They traced a path the dusk had left in light,
sight
night
and offered back what silence asked of night,
bright
light
until the dark leaned close, as if to care.
care
```
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-christmas.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-code.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-dropcap.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-easter.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-halloween.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-header.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-inline.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-link.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-list.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-multimedia.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-sidenote.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-sidenote.md:21-26 kind=indented_code confidence=90
Thinking of divers things fore-known.\
When I build castles in the air,\
Void of sorrow and void of fear,\
Pleasing myself with phantasms sweet,\
Methinks the time runs very fleet.
RAW:
Thinking of divers things fore-known.\
When I build castles in the air,\
Void of sorrow and void of fear,\
Pleasing myself with phantasms sweet,\
Methinks the time runs very fleet.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-sidenote.md:31-36 kind=indented_code confidence=90
Recounting what I have ill done,\
My thoughts on me then tyrannise,\
Fear and sorrow me surprise,\
Whether I tarry still or go,\
Methinks the time moves very slow.
RAW:
Recounting what I have ill done,\
My thoughts on me then tyrannise,\
Fear and sorrow me surprise,\
Whether I tarry still or go,\
Methinks the time moves very slow.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-sidenote.md:41-46 kind=indented_code confidence=90
With pleasing thoughts the time beguile,\
By a brook side or wood so green,\
Unheard, unsought for, or unseen,\
A thousand pleasures do me bless,\
And crown my soul with happiness.
RAW:
With pleasing thoughts the time beguile,\
By a brook side or wood so green,\
Unheard, unsought for, or unseen,\
A thousand pleasures do me bless,\
And crown my soul with happiness.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-sidenote.md:51-56 kind=indented_code confidence=90
I sigh, I grieve, making great moan,\
In a dark grove, or irksome den,\
With discontents and Furies then,\
A thousand miseries at once\
Mine heavy heart and soul ensconce,
RAW:
I sigh, I grieve, making great moan,\
In a dark grove, or irksome den,\
With discontents and Furies then,\
A thousand miseries at once\
Mine heavy heart and soul ensconce,
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-sidenote.md:61-66 kind=indented_code confidence=90
Sweet music, wondrous melody,\
Towns, palaces, and cities fine;\
Here now, then there; the world is mine,\
Rare beauties, gallant ladies shine,\
Whate'er is lovely or divine.
RAW:
Sweet music, wondrous melody,\
Towns, palaces, and cities fine;\
Here now, then there; the world is mine,\
Rare beauties, gallant ladies shine,\
Whate'er is lovely or divine.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-sidenote.md:71-76 kind=indented_code confidence=90
Ghosts, goblins, fiends; my phantasy\
Presents a thousand ugly shapes,\
Headless bears, black men, and apes,\
Doleful outcries, and fearful sights,\
My sad and dismal soul affrights.
RAW:
Ghosts, goblins, fiends; my phantasy\
Presents a thousand ugly shapes,\
Headless bears, black men, and apes,\
Doleful outcries, and fearful sights,\
My sad and dismal soul affrights.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-sidenote.md:81-86 kind=indented_code confidence=90
Methinks I now embrace my mistress.\
O blessed days, O sweet content,\
In Paradise my time is spent.\
Such thoughts may still my fancy move,\
So may I ever be in love.
RAW:
Methinks I now embrace my mistress.\
O blessed days, O sweet content,\
In Paradise my time is spent.\
Such thoughts may still my fancy move,\
So may I ever be in love.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-sidenote.md:91-96 kind=indented_code confidence=90
My sighs and tears, my waking nights,\
My jealous fits; O mine hard fate\
I now repent, but 'tis too late.\
No torment is so bad as love,\
So bitter to my soul can prove.
RAW:
My sighs and tears, my waking nights,\
My jealous fits; O mine hard fate\
I now repent, but 'tis too late.\
No torment is so bad as love,\
So bitter to my soul can prove.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-sidenote.md:101-106 kind=indented_code confidence=90
'Tis my desire to be alone;\
Ne'er well but when my thoughts and I\
Do domineer in privacy.\
No Gem, no treasure like to this,\
'Tis my delight, my crown, my bliss.
RAW:
'Tis my desire to be alone;\
Ne'er well but when my thoughts and I\
Do domineer in privacy.\
No Gem, no treasure like to this,\
'Tis my delight, my crown, my bliss.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-sidenote.md:111-116 kind=indented_code confidence=90
I am a beast, a monster grown,\
I will no light nor company,\
I find it now my misery.\
The scene is turn'd, my joys are gone,\
Fear, discontent, and sorrows come.
RAW:
I am a beast, a monster grown,\
I will no light nor company,\
I find it now my misery.\
The scene is turn'd, my joys are gone,\
Fear, discontent, and sorrows come.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-sidenote.md:121-126 kind=indented_code confidence=90
I ravisht am: can the world bring\
More joy, than still to laugh and smile,\
In pleasant toys time to beguile?\
Do not, O do not trouble me,\
So sweet content I feel and see.
RAW:
I ravisht am: can the world bring\
More joy, than still to laugh and smile,\
In pleasant toys time to beguile?\
Do not, O do not trouble me,\
So sweet content I feel and see.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-sidenote.md:131-138 kind=indented_code confidence=90
Thou canst from gaol or dunghill fetch;\
My pain's past cure, another hell,\
I may not in this torment dwell!\
Now desperate I hate my life,\
Lend me a halter or a knife;\
All my griefs to this are jolly,\
Naught so damn'd as melancholy.
RAW:
Thou canst from gaol or dunghill fetch;\
My pain's past cure, another hell,\
I may not in this torment dwell!\
Now desperate I hate my life,\
Lend me a halter or a knife;\
All my griefs to this are jolly,\
Naught so damn'd as melancholy.
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-table.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-transclude.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lorem-unicode.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lsd-microdosing.md
/home/gwern/wiki/lunar.md
/home/gwern/wiki/mail-delivery.md
/home/gwern/wiki/math-error.md
/home/gwern/wiki/matt-levine.md
/home/gwern/wiki/maze.md
/home/gwern/wiki/mcts-ai.md
/home/gwern/wiki/media-rl.md
/home/gwern/wiki/melatonin.md
/home/gwern/wiki/melon.md
/home/gwern/wiki/me.md
/home/gwern/wiki/meta-math.md
/home/gwern/wiki/miletian.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/miletian.md:21-25 kind=indented_code confidence=80
Water ↔ Water
air ↔ Water
earth ↔ Water
fire ↔ Water
RAW:
Water ↔ Water
air ↔ Water
earth ↔ Water
fire ↔ Water
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/miletian.md:62-65 kind=indented_code confidence=75
Air ↔ water
earth ↔ water
fire ↔ water
RAW:
Air ↔ water
earth ↔ water
fire ↔ water
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/miletian.md:68-71 kind=indented_code confidence=80
Fire ↔ earth
air ↔ earth
water ↔ earth
RAW:
Fire ↔ earth
air ↔ earth
water ↔ earth
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/miletian.md:74-77 kind=indented_code confidence=85
Air ↔ earth
Air ↔ fire
Air ↔ water
RAW:
Air ↔ earth
Air ↔ fire
Air ↔ water
/home/gwern/wiki/milk.md
/home/gwern/wiki/mlp-genetics.md
/home/gwern/wiki/modafinil.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/modafinil.md:1081-1090 kind=blockquote confidence=95
When I consider Life, 'tis all a cheat, \
Yet, fool'd with hope, men favour the deceit; \
Trust on, and think to morrow will repay: \
To morrow's falser than the former day; \
Lies worse; and while it says, We shall be blest \
With some new joys, cuts off what we possest. \
Strange cozenage! none would live past years again, \
Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain; \
And, from the dregs of Life, think to receive, \
What the first sprightly running could not give.^[[John Dryden](!W), Act IV of _[Aureng-zebe](!W)_ (1675)]
RAW:
> When I consider Life, 'tis all a cheat, \
> Yet, fool'd with hope, men favour the deceit; \
> Trust on, and think to morrow will repay: \
> To morrow's falser than the former day; \
> Lies worse; and while it says, We shall be blest \
> With some new joys, cuts off what we possest. \
> Strange cozenage! none would live past years again, \
> Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain; \
> And, from the dregs of Life, think to receive, \
> What the first sprightly running could not give.^[[John Dryden](!W), Act IV of _[Aureng-zebe](!W)_ (1675)]
/home/gwern/wiki/modafinil-survey.md
/home/gwern/wiki/modus.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/modus.md:50-51 kind=blockquote confidence=85
Nothing can be soundly understood \
If daylight itself needs proof.
RAW:
> Nothing can be soundly understood \
> If daylight itself needs proof.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/modus.md:55-66 kind=blockquote confidence=85
Thou'lt find \
That from the senses first hath been create \
Concept of truth, nor can the senses be \
Rebutted. For criterion must be found \
Worthy of greater trust, which shall defeat \
Through own authority the false by true; \
What, then, than these our senses must there be \
Worthy a greater trust? Shall reason, sprung \
From some false sense, prevail to contradict \
Those senses, sprung as reason wholly is \
From out of the senses?---For lest these be true, \
All reason also then is falsified.[^Stallings]
RAW:
> Thou'lt find \
> That from the senses first hath been create \
> Concept of truth, nor can the senses be \
> Rebutted. For criterion must be found \
> Worthy of greater trust, which shall defeat \
> Through own authority the false by true; \
> What, then, than these our senses must there be \
> Worthy a greater trust? Shall reason, sprung \
> From some false sense, prevail to contradict \
> Those senses, sprung as reason wholly is \
> From out of the senses?---For lest these be true, \
> All reason also then is falsified.[^Stallings]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/modus.md:70-102 kind=blockquote confidence=90
...As for the fellow who asserts that ‘nothing can be known’, \
He doesn’t even know that fact, since he’s the first to own \
That he knows nothing! I won’t debate a person who, instead \
Of keeping two feet on the ground, is standing on his head. \
Or if I grant he knows that much, I have questions in store: \
For since he’s never put faith in the sensory world before, \
How does he even know what knowing is, or furthermore, \
Not-knowing? What forms his notion of the false or of the true, \
What evidence has proved the difference between the two?
You’ll find the concept of the true is formed and has its root \
In the senses, their testimony such that no one can refute. \
For there must be a higher court to which you can appeal, \
That on its own can disprove what is false by what is real. \
Besides, on what except the senses can you more rely? \
Shall reason, based on the senses’ false witness, testify \
Against those very senses out of which it’s wholly sprung? \
For if the senses are untrue, all reasoning is wrong. \
Can the ear convict the eye? Or is touch able to bring suit \
Against the ear? Can touch against the sense of taste dispute, \
Or nostrils confound its argument, or will the eye refute? \
No, I think not. Each sense has a function to perform, \
A separate jurisdiction. We discern what’s soft or warm \
Or cold, therefore, by one particular sense, and we perceive \
The many hues of things and all the qualities that cleave \
Closely unto color by another sense. As well, \
It takes the mouth to taste a flavour, but to smell a smell \
Requires another sense, another still to pick up sounds, \
So one sense can’t disprove that which another sense propounds. \
Nor can these senses testify against themselves; they must \
Be granted at all times an equal measure of our trust. \
Thus what they say is true, at any given time, *is* true.
RAW:
> ...As for the fellow who asserts that ‘nothing can be known’, \
> He doesn’t even know that fact, since he’s the first to own \
> That he knows nothing! I won’t debate a person who, instead \
> Of keeping two feet on the ground, is standing on his head. \
> Or if I grant he knows that much, I have questions in store: \
> For since he’s never put faith in the sensory world before, \
> How does he even know what knowing is, or furthermore, \
> Not-knowing? What forms his notion of the false or of the true, \
> What evidence has proved the difference between the two?
>
> You’ll find the concept of the true is formed and has its root \
> In the senses, their testimony such that no one can refute. \
> For there must be a higher court to which you can appeal, \
> That on its own can disprove what is false by what is real. \
> Besides, on what except the senses can you more rely? \
> Shall reason, based on the senses’ false witness, testify \
> Against those very senses out of which it’s wholly sprung? \
> For if the senses are untrue, all reasoning is wrong. \
> Can the ear convict the eye? Or is touch able to bring suit \
> Against the ear? Can touch against the sense of taste dispute, \
> Or nostrils confound its argument, or will the eye refute? \
>
> No, I think not. Each sense has a function to perform, \
> A separate jurisdiction. We discern what’s soft or warm \
> Or cold, therefore, by one particular sense, and we perceive \
> The many hues of things and all the qualities that cleave \
> Closely unto color by another sense. As well, \
> It takes the mouth to taste a flavour, but to smell a smell \
> Requires another sense, another still to pick up sounds, \
> So one sense can’t disprove that which another sense propounds. \
> Nor can these senses testify against themselves; they must \
> Be granted at all times an equal measure of our trust. \
> Thus what they say is true, at any given time, *is* true.
/home/gwern/wiki/morning-writing.md
/home/gwern/wiki/mouse-utopia.md
/home/gwern/wiki/mugging-dp.md
/home/gwern/wiki/mugging.md
/home/gwern/wiki/music-distraction.md
/home/gwern/wiki/narrowing-circle.md
/home/gwern/wiki/nenex.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2013/12.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2014/01.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2014/02.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2014/03.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2014/04.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2014/05.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2014/06.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2014/07.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2014/08.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2014/09.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2014/10.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2014/11.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2014/12.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2014/13.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2015/01.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2015/02.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2015/03.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2015/04.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2015/05.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2015/06.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2015/07.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2015/08.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2015/09.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2015/10.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2015/11.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2015/12.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2015/13.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2016/01.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2016/02.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2016/03.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2016/04.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2016/05.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2016/06.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2016/07.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2016/07.md:107-124 kind=blockquote confidence=95
The beach is beautiful; and there grow \
The sea-tangles swaying, \
Lapped by a thousand waves \
In the calm of morning, \
And by five hundred waves \
In the evening calm. \
O Suminoe Beach, \
Where white-crested waves are racing around! \
Could I weary of watching, not only now, \
But day in, day out, over and over again, \
As those waves break on the shore? \
*Envoy*
Let me go, with my clothes stained \
For remembrance with the yellow clay \
Of Suminoe's shore, which white-crested waves \
Visit, ceaselessly lapping!
RAW:
> The beach is beautiful; and there grow \
> The sea-tangles swaying, \
> Lapped by a thousand waves \
> In the calm of morning, \
> And by five hundred waves \
> In the evening calm. \
> O Suminoe Beach, \
> Where white-crested waves are racing around! \
> Could I weary of watching, not only now, \
> But day in, day out, over and over again, \
> As those waves break on the shore? \
>
> *Envoy*
>
> Let me go, with my clothes stained \
> For remembrance with the yellow clay \
> Of Suminoe's shore, which white-crested waves \
> Visit, ceaselessly lapping!
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2016/08.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2016/09.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2016/10.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2016/11.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2016/12.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2016/12.md:100-135 kind=blockquote confidence=95
I think of that old woman in the song \
Who could not know herself without the skirt \
They cut off while she slept beside a stile. \
Her dog jumped at the unaccustomed legs \
And barked till she turned slowly from her gate \
And went---I never asked them where she went. \
The child is hopeful and unhappy in a world \
Whose future is his recourse: she kept walking \
Until the skirt grew, cleared her head and dog--- \
Surely I thought so when I laughed. If skirts don't grow, \
If things can happen so, and you not know \
What you could do, why, what is there you could do? \
I know now she went nowhere; went to wait \
In the bare night of the fields, to whisper: \
"I'll sit and wish that it was never so." \
I see her sitting on the ground and wishing, \
The wind jumps like a dog against her legs, \
And she keeps thinking: "This is all a dream." \
"Who would cut off a poor old woman's skirt? \
So good too. No, it's not so: \
No one could feel so, really." And yet one might. \
A ghost must; and she was, perhaps, a ghost. \
The first night I looked into the mirror \
And saw the room empty, I could not believe \
That it was possible to keep existing \
In such pain: I have existed. \
Was the old woman dead? What does it matter? \
---Am I dead? A ghost, a real ghost \
Has no need to die: what is he except \
A being without access to the universe \
That he has not yet managed to forget? \
RAW:
> I think of that old woman in the song \
> Who could not know herself without the skirt \
> They cut off while she slept beside a stile. \
> Her dog jumped at the unaccustomed legs \
> And barked till she turned slowly from her gate \
> And went---I never asked them where she went. \
>
> The child is hopeful and unhappy in a world \
> Whose future is his recourse: she kept walking \
> Until the skirt grew, cleared her head and dog--- \
> Surely I thought so when I laughed. If skirts don't grow, \
> If things can happen so, and you not know \
> What you could do, why, what is there you could do? \
>
> I know now she went nowhere; went to wait \
> In the bare night of the fields, to whisper: \
> "I'll sit and wish that it was never so." \
> I see her sitting on the ground and wishing, \
> The wind jumps like a dog against her legs, \
> And she keeps thinking: "This is all a dream." \
>
> "Who would cut off a poor old woman's skirt? \
> So good too. No, it's not so: \
> No one could feel so, really." And yet one might. \
> A ghost must; and she was, perhaps, a ghost. \
> The first night I looked into the mirror \
> And saw the room empty, I could not believe \
>
> That it was possible to keep existing \
> In such pain: I have existed. \
>
> Was the old woman dead? What does it matter? \
> ---Am I dead? A ghost, a real ghost \
> Has no need to die: what is he except \
> A being without access to the universe \
> That he has not yet managed to forget? \
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2016/13.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2017/01.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2017/02.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2017/03.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2017/04.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2017/05.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2017/06.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2017/07.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2017/08.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2017/09.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2017/10.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2017/11.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2017/12.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2017/13.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2018/01.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2018/02.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2018/03.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2018/04.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2018/05.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2018/06.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2018/07.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2018/08.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2018/09.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2018/10.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2018/11.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2018/12.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2018/13.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2019/01.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2019/02.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2019/03.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2019/04.md:128-150 kind=blockquote confidence=95
That OA5's training may never cease, \
that human players ever cheer and grieve, \
give the DoTA client no upgrade leave; \
cease all debate about meta, \
hold your silence on the beta; \
summon servers to muster, \
racked inside the cluster; \
and inside the data farms, \
request no spot VMs. \
Quietly the GPU fans spin, \
foreseeing all the games that have been; \
above, birds take flight \
with changes so slight, \
as thus gradients flow \
through all nodes fast and slow, \
each agent taking steps \
with countless games to check. \
Passeth endless wars, scores high and low \
through endless ages, that none can know. \
*Like a long-legged fly upon the Steam*, \
*its mind moves upon silence*. \
RAW:
> That OA5's training may never cease, \
> that human players ever cheer and grieve, \
> give the DoTA client no upgrade leave; \
> cease all debate about meta, \
> hold your silence on the beta; \
> summon servers to muster, \
> racked inside the cluster; \
> and inside the data farms, \
> request no spot VMs. \
>
> Quietly the GPU fans spin, \
> foreseeing all the games that have been; \
> above, birds take flight \
> with changes so slight, \
> as thus gradients flow \
> through all nodes fast and slow, \
> each agent taking steps \
> with countless games to check. \
> Passeth endless wars, scores high and low \
> through endless ages, that none can know. \
>
> *Like a long-legged fly upon the Steam*, \
> *its mind moves upon silence*. \
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2019/05.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2019/06.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2019/07.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2019/08.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2019/09.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2019/10.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2019/11.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2019/12.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2019/13.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2020/01.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2020/02.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2020/03.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2020/04.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2020/05.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2020/06.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2020/07.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2020/08.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2020/09.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2020/10.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2020/11.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2020/12.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2020/13.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2021/01.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2021/02.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2021/03.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2021/04.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2021/05.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2021/06.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2021/07.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2021/08.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2021/09.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2021/10.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2021/11.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2021/12.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2021/13.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2022/01.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2029/05.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2029/06.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2029/07.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2029/08.md
/home/gwern/wiki/newsletter/2029/09.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/newton.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/newton.md:132-152 kind=blockquote confidence=90
...Besides, were there no birthday for the earth and for the sky, \
If they’d existed always for eternity, then why \
Is it in epic song the ancient poets never employ \
Events before the [_Seven Against Thebes_](!W "Thebaid (Greek poem)") or [_Fall of Troy_](!W "Iliad")? \
Why have so many deeds of men just dropped into the gloom \
And grafted on the eternal monuments of fame no bloom?
But this world’s still a fresh and newborn thing, I hold it so: \
The genesis of the world was not so very long ago. \
And that’s why, in the arts, we’re making great strides to this day--- \
Ships were recently much improved. Nor was it far away \
In the mists of Time musicians learned to make mellifluous song. \
These very revelations about the universe are young, \
And I myself the first to put them in our mother tongue. \
But if you think these things were all invented before, and lost \
When earlier races of men were burnt up in a holocaust, \
Or a mighty convulsion of the earth laid all their cities low, \
Or relentless downpours made the hungry rivers overflow \
And inundate the land, engulfing towns beneath their spate, \
All the more reason you must admit defeat---you demonstrate \
Yourself that earth and sky are doomed to die!
RAW:
> ...Besides, were there no birthday for the earth and for the sky, \
> If they’d existed always for eternity, then why \
> Is it in epic song the ancient poets never employ \
> Events before the [_Seven Against Thebes_](!W "Thebaid (Greek poem)") or [_Fall of Troy_](!W "Iliad")? \
> Why have so many deeds of men just dropped into the gloom \
> And grafted on the eternal monuments of fame no bloom?
>
> But this world’s still a fresh and newborn thing, I hold it so: \
> The genesis of the world was not so very long ago. \
> And that’s why, in the arts, we’re making great strides to this day--- \
> Ships were recently much improved. Nor was it far away \
> In the mists of Time musicians learned to make mellifluous song. \
> These very revelations about the universe are young, \
> And I myself the first to put them in our mother tongue. \
> But if you think these things were all invented before, and lost \
> When earlier races of men were burnt up in a holocaust, \
> Or a mighty convulsion of the earth laid all their cities low, \
> Or relentless downpours made the hungry rivers overflow \
> And inundate the land, engulfing towns beneath their spate, \
> All the more reason you must admit defeat---you demonstrate \
> Yourself that earth and sky are doomed to die!
/home/gwern/wiki/nicotine.md
/home/gwern/wiki/non-biblical-sentences.md
/home/gwern/wiki/nootropic/magnesium.md
/home/gwern/wiki/nootropic/nootropics.md
/home/gwern/wiki/note/competence.md
/home/gwern/wiki/note/fashion.md
/home/gwern/wiki/note/faster.md
/home/gwern/wiki/note/local-optima.md
/home/gwern/wiki/note/note.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/note/note.md:366-382 kind=blockquote confidence=95
So, when our mortal forms shall be disjoin’d. \
The lifeless lump uncoupled from the mind, \
From sense of grief and pain we shall be free, \
We shall not feel, because we shall not be. \
Though earth in seas, and seas in heaven were lost \
We should not move, we should only be toss’d. \
Nay, e’en suppose when we have suffer’d fate \
The soul should feel in her divided state, \
What’s that to us? For we are only we \
While souls and bodies in one frame agree.
Nay, though our atoms should revolve by chance, \
And matter leap into the former dance, \
Though time our life and motion should restore. \
And make our bodies what they were before, \
What gain to us would all this bustle bring? \
The new-made man would be another thing.
RAW:
> So, when our mortal forms shall be disjoin’d. \
> The lifeless lump uncoupled from the mind, \
> From sense of grief and pain we shall be free, \
> We shall not feel, because we shall not be. \
> Though earth in seas, and seas in heaven were lost \
> We should not move, we should only be toss’d. \
> Nay, e’en suppose when we have suffer’d fate \
> The soul should feel in her divided state, \
> What’s that to us? For we are only we \
> While souls and bodies in one frame agree.
>
> Nay, though our atoms should revolve by chance, \
> And matter leap into the former dance, \
> Though time our life and motion should restore. \
> And make our bodies what they were before, \
> What gain to us would all this bustle bring? \
> The new-made man would be another thing.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/note/note.md:389-399 kind=blockquote confidence=90
Why are we then so fond of mortal Life, \
Beset with dangers, and maintain’d with strife? \
A Life, which all our care can never save; \
One Fate attends us; and one common Grave. \
...Nor, by the longest life we can attain, \
One moment from the length of death we gain; \
For all behind belongs to his Eternal reign. \
When once the Fates have cut the mortal Thred, \
The Man as much to all intents is dead, \
Who dies to day, and will as long be so, \
As he who dy’d a thousand years ago.
RAW:
> Why are we then so fond of mortal Life, \
> Beset with dangers, and maintain’d with strife? \
> A Life, which all our care can never save; \
> One Fate attends us; and one common Grave. \
> ...Nor, by the longest life we can attain, \
> One moment from the length of death we gain; \
> For all behind belongs to his Eternal reign. \
> When once the Fates have cut the mortal Thred, \
> The Man as much to all intents is dead, \
> Who dies to day, and will as long be so, \
> As he who dy’d a thousand years ago.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/note/note.md:421-428 kind=blockquote confidence=85
At death, you break up: the bits that were you \
Start speeding away from each other for ever \
With no one to see. It's only oblivion, true: \
We had it before, but then it was going to end, \
And was all the time merging with a unique endeavour \
To bring to bloom the million-petaled flower \
Of being here. Next time you can't pretend \
There'll be anything else.
RAW:
> At death, you break up: the bits that were you \
> Start speeding away from each other for ever \
> With no one to see. It's only oblivion, true: \
> We had it before, but then it was going to end, \
> And was all the time merging with a unique endeavour \
> To bring to bloom the million-petaled flower \
> Of being here. Next time you can't pretend \
> There'll be anything else.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/note/note.md:2045-2056 kind=indented_code confidence=95
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
RAW:
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/note/note.md:2578-2582 kind=blockquote confidence=90
The gloom of dusk. \
An ox from out in the fields \
comes walking my way; \
and along the hazy road \
I encounter no one.^[Shōtetsu; 59 'An Animal in Spring'; [_Unforgotten Dreams: Poems by the Zen monk Shōtetsu_](/doc/japan/poetry/shotetsu/1997-carter-shotetsu-unforgottendreams.pdf "'Unforgotten Dreams: Poems by the Zen Monk Shōtetsu', Shōtetsu & Carter 1997"); trans. Steven D. Carter, ISBN 0-231-10576-2]
RAW:
> The gloom of dusk. \
> An ox from out in the fields \
> comes walking my way; \
> and along the hazy road \
> I encounter no one.^[Shōtetsu; 59 'An Animal in Spring'; [_Unforgotten Dreams: Poems by the Zen monk Shōtetsu_](/doc/japan/poetry/shotetsu/1997-carter-shotetsu-unforgottendreams.pdf "'Unforgotten Dreams: Poems by the Zen Monk Shōtetsu', Shōtetsu & Carter 1997"); trans. Steven D. Carter, ISBN 0-231-10576-2]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/note/note.md:2594-2598 kind=blockquote confidence=85
Another year gone by \
And still no spring warms my heart. \
It's nothing to me \
But now I am accustomed \
To stare at the sky at dawn.^[[Fujiwara no Teika](!W); pg663 of [Donald Keene](!W) (1999), [_Seeds in the Heart: Japanese Literature from Earliest Times to the Late Sixteenth Century_](https://www.amazon.com/Seeds-Heart-Japanese-Literature-Sixteenth/dp/0231114419/), Columbia University Press, ISBN 0-231-11441-9]
RAW:
> Another year gone by \
> And still no spring warms my heart. \
> It's nothing to me \
> But now I am accustomed \
> To stare at the sky at dawn.^[[Fujiwara no Teika](!W); pg663 of [Donald Keene](!W) (1999), [_Seeds in the Heart: Japanese Literature from Earliest Times to the Late Sixteenth Century_](https://www.amazon.com/Seeds-Heart-Japanese-Literature-Sixteenth/dp/0231114419/), Columbia University Press, ISBN 0-231-11441-9]
/home/gwern/wiki/note/statistic.md
/home/gwern/wiki/novelty-net.md
/home/gwern/wiki/oen.md
/home/gwern/wiki/oldest-food.md
/home/gwern/wiki/on-disrespect.md
/home/gwern/wiki/on-really-trying.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/on-really-trying.md:153-154 kind=blockquote confidence=85
...**S** stands for secret; you can keep it forever---\
Provided there's no one abroad who is clever.
RAW:
> ...**S** stands for secret; you can keep it forever---\
> Provided there's no one abroad who is clever.
/home/gwern/wiki/ontological-pantheism.md
/home/gwern/wiki/optimal-interview.md
/home/gwern/wiki/order-statistic.md
/home/gwern/wiki/otaku-essay.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/otaku-essay.md:34-62 kind=blockquote confidence=90
"The visions dancing in my mind
The early dawn, the shades of time
Twilight crawling through my windowpane
Am I awake or do I dream?
The strangest pictures I have seen
Night is day and twilight's gone away
...
With your head held high and your scarlet lies
You came down to me from the open skies
It's either real or it's a dream
There's nothing that is in between...
...
Twilight, I only meant to stay awhile
Twilight, I gave you time to steal my mind
Away from me."^[["Twilight"](!W "Twilight (Electric Light Orchestra song)"), by the [Electric Light Orchestra](!W), from _[DAICON IV](!W "DAICON IV Opening Animation")_]
RAW:
> "The visions dancing in my mind
>
> The early dawn, the shades of time
>
> Twilight crawling through my windowpane
>
> Am I awake or do I dream?
>
> The strangest pictures I have seen
>
> Night is day and twilight's gone away
>
> ...
>
> With your head held high and your scarlet lies
>
> You came down to me from the open skies
>
> It's either real or it's a dream
>
> There's nothing that is in between...
>
> ...
>
> Twilight, I only meant to stay awhile
>
> Twilight, I gave you time to steal my mind
>
> Away from me."^[["Twilight"](!W "Twilight (Electric Light Orchestra song)"), by the [Electric Light Orchestra](!W), from _[DAICON IV](!W "DAICON IV Opening Animation")_]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/otaku-essay.md:673-694 kind=indented_code confidence=90
A blue wind is now
knocking at the door to your heart, and yet
that you can't even see your fate yet,
But someday I think you'll find out
that what's on your back
are wings that are for
heading for the far-off future.
Sleeping for a long time
in the cradle of my love
Stopping time all throughout the world
You held tight to the form of life
Do you love me?
Who are you?
Who are you?
Who are you?
Who are you?
Do you love me?
Fly me to the moon
And let me play among the stars
Fill my heart with song
And let me sing forevermore
In other words, I love you
RAW:
A blue wind is now
knocking at the door to your heart, and yet
that you can't even see your fate yet,
But someday I think you'll find out
that what's on your back
are wings that are for
heading for the far-off future.
Sleeping for a long time
in the cradle of my love
Stopping time all throughout the world
You held tight to the form of life
Do you love me?
Who are you?
Who are you?
Who are you?
Who are you?
Do you love me?
Fly me to the moon
And let me play among the stars
Fill my heart with song
And let me sing forevermore
In other words, I love you
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/otaku-essay.md:697-711 kind=indented_code confidence=85
Something gently touching--
you're so intent on seeking it out,
Moonlight reflects off
the nape of your slender neck.
The sorrow then begins.
People create history
while weaving love.
Even knowing I'll never be a goddess or anything like that,
I live on.
Why don't you become one with me?
If you become one both in mind and body, it's a very, very comforting feeling.
Do you love me?
Let me see what spring is like
On Jupiter and Mars
darling kiss me
RAW:
Something gently touching--
you're so intent on seeking it out,
Moonlight reflects off
the nape of your slender neck.
The sorrow then begins.
People create history
while weaving love.
Even knowing I'll never be a goddess or anything like that,
I live on.
Why don't you become one with me?
If you become one both in mind and body, it's a very, very comforting feeling.
Do you love me?
Let me see what spring is like
On Jupiter and Mars
darling kiss me
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/otaku-essay.md:714-730 kind=indented_code confidence=85
you are merely gazing at me
and smiling.
The morning is coming when you alone will be called
by a messenger of dreams.
So if two people being brought together by fate
has any meaning,
I think that it is a "bible"
for learning freedom.
You shine brighter than anyone else.
Hey, you wanna kiss?
Loneliness?
Pleasure... Sky of reality... Cruel strangers
Do you love me?
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore
I love you
RAW:
you are merely gazing at me
and smiling.
The morning is coming when you alone will be called
by a messenger of dreams.
So if two people being brought together by fate
has any meaning,
I think that it is a "bible"
for learning freedom.
You shine brighter than anyone else.
Hey, you wanna kiss?
Loneliness?
Pleasure... Sky of reality... Cruel strangers
Do you love me?
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore
I love you
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/otaku-essay.md:854-871 kind=blockquote confidence=90
Similarly intriguing is the anger generated by the supposedly unsatisfying final season of the ABC TV series _Lost_. Created by J.J. Abrams, Damon Lindelof and Jeffrey Lieber, _Lost_ tells the story of a group of people who survive a plane crash only to find themselves trapped on an isolated tropical island. As the group starts to explore the island, they encounter a series of increasingly baffling mysteries that include polar bears, time travel, sinister corporations, magic numbers and smoke monsters. The most striking thing about _Lost_ is that, while each new mystery compels you to keep watching, there is little sense that these mysteries form part of a wider and more coherent truth. This approach to running a series can be compared to Calvinball, the game played by [Calvin and Hobbes](!W) whose rules are entirely made up on the fly. As the Calvinball theme song has it:
> Other kids' games are all such a bore! \
> They've gotta have rules and they gotta keep score! \
> Calvinball is better by far! \
> It's never the same! It's always bizarre! \
> You don't need a team or a referee! \
> You know that it's great, 'cause it's named after me!
Calvinball storytelling emerged at a time when 'serious' American TV drama was attempting to move away from the production of stand-alone episodes and towards a focus upon long-term storylines (or 'plot arcs'). Early pioneers of arc-based TV storytelling included _Twin Peaks_ and _The X-Files_, both of which pre-empted Lost by using an open-ended mystery to provide an impression of narrative cohesiveness.
Calvinball storytelling is a transitional approach to show-running in so far as it provides an operational bridge between treating individual episodes as self-contained stories and treating individual episodes as component parts of much larger narrative tapestries. Calvinball storytelling allows writers to focus upon churning out the best possible episode they can without overly worrying about how that episode will fit into the greater narrative. As _Twin Peaks_, _X-Files_ and _Lost_ demonstrate, Calvinball writers throw a lot of ideas at the wall and only some of them stick. It is only when writers of later episodes begin drawing on previously used ideas that the illusion of a deeper narrative structure begins to emerge.
One of the peculiarities of running a Calvinball TV series is that the audience must never be allowed to think that the writers are making stuff up as they go. The reason for this is that mysteries tend to engage our interest only in so far as they appear to have solutions. By acknowledging that none of their mysteries were designed with solutions in mind, TV writers would effectively break the spell and so reveal the mess of dangling plot strands and stand-alone episodes that lie hidden behind the illusion of narrative cohesiveness. The author [M. John Harrison](!W) [once expressed a similar insight](https://web.archive.org/web/20080410181840/http://uzwi.wordpress.com/2007/01/27/very-afraid/) on his (now defunct) blog, writing about the challenges of 'worldbuilding' he said:
> The worst mistake a contemporary f/sf writer can make is to withhold or disrupt suspension of disbelief. The reader, it's assumed, wants to receive the events in the text as seamless & the text as unperformed. The claim is that nobody is being "told a story" here, let alone being sold a pup. Instead, an impeccably immersive experience is playing in the cinema of the head. This experience is somehow unmediated, or needs to present itself as such: any vestige of performativeness in the text dilutes the experience by reminding the reader that the "world" on offer is a rhetorical construct. All writing is a shell game, a sham: but genre writing mustn't ever look as if it is.
The art of Calvinball storytelling lies in the ability to keep the shell game alive so as to not disrupt that suspension of disbelief. In order to do this, TV writers must manage a vast number of active plotlines with little or no guidance as to how these plotlines are intended to develop. Skilful showrunners keep the Calvinball in play by knowing when to keep a plotline open, when to close it, when to combine it with others and when to bail on it completely. The most successful Calvinball series are those that manage to keep themselves on the air for year after year without alienating or frustrating the audience and without having to resort to such heavy-handed ground-clearance techniques as crashing a plane into a village, travelling back in time, revealing that it was all a dream or repeatedly hitting the reset button. The aim of the game is not to provide answers but to hold an audience's attention by asking ever more evocative and unexpected questions until the continuity eventually becomes so cluttered and unmanageable that the entire enterprise collapses in on itself like a dying star.
RAW:
> Similarly intriguing is the anger generated by the supposedly unsatisfying final season of the ABC TV series _Lost_. Created by J.J. Abrams, Damon Lindelof and Jeffrey Lieber, _Lost_ tells the story of a group of people who survive a plane crash only to find themselves trapped on an isolated tropical island. As the group starts to explore the island, they encounter a series of increasingly baffling mysteries that include polar bears, time travel, sinister corporations, magic numbers and smoke monsters. The most striking thing about _Lost_ is that, while each new mystery compels you to keep watching, there is little sense that these mysteries form part of a wider and more coherent truth. This approach to running a series can be compared to Calvinball, the game played by [Calvin and Hobbes](!W) whose rules are entirely made up on the fly. As the Calvinball theme song has it:
>
>> Other kids' games are all such a bore! \
>> They've gotta have rules and they gotta keep score! \
>> Calvinball is better by far! \
>> It's never the same! It's always bizarre! \
>> You don't need a team or a referee! \
>> You know that it's great, 'cause it's named after me!
>
> Calvinball storytelling emerged at a time when 'serious' American TV drama was attempting to move away from the production of stand-alone episodes and towards a focus upon long-term storylines (or 'plot arcs'). Early pioneers of arc-based TV storytelling included _Twin Peaks_ and _The X-Files_, both of which pre-empted Lost by using an open-ended mystery to provide an impression of narrative cohesiveness.
>
> Calvinball storytelling is a transitional approach to show-running in so far as it provides an operational bridge between treating individual episodes as self-contained stories and treating individual episodes as component parts of much larger narrative tapestries. Calvinball storytelling allows writers to focus upon churning out the best possible episode they can without overly worrying about how that episode will fit into the greater narrative. As _Twin Peaks_, _X-Files_ and _Lost_ demonstrate, Calvinball writers throw a lot of ideas at the wall and only some of them stick. It is only when writers of later episodes begin drawing on previously used ideas that the illusion of a deeper narrative structure begins to emerge.
>
> One of the peculiarities of running a Calvinball TV series is that the audience must never be allowed to think that the writers are making stuff up as they go. The reason for this is that mysteries tend to engage our interest only in so far as they appear to have solutions. By acknowledging that none of their mysteries were designed with solutions in mind, TV writers would effectively break the spell and so reveal the mess of dangling plot strands and stand-alone episodes that lie hidden behind the illusion of narrative cohesiveness. The author [M. John Harrison](!W) [once expressed a similar insight](https://web.archive.org/web/20080410181840/http://uzwi.wordpress.com/2007/01/27/very-afraid/) on his (now defunct) blog, writing about the challenges of 'worldbuilding' he said:
>
>> The worst mistake a contemporary f/sf writer can make is to withhold or disrupt suspension of disbelief. The reader, it's assumed, wants to receive the events in the text as seamless & the text as unperformed. The claim is that nobody is being "told a story" here, let alone being sold a pup. Instead, an impeccably immersive experience is playing in the cinema of the head. This experience is somehow unmediated, or needs to present itself as such: any vestige of performativeness in the text dilutes the experience by reminding the reader that the "world" on offer is a rhetorical construct. All writing is a shell game, a sham: but genre writing mustn't ever look as if it is.
>
> The art of Calvinball storytelling lies in the ability to keep the shell game alive so as to not disrupt that suspension of disbelief. In order to do this, TV writers must manage a vast number of active plotlines with little or no guidance as to how these plotlines are intended to develop. Skilful showrunners keep the Calvinball in play by knowing when to keep a plotline open, when to close it, when to combine it with others and when to bail on it completely. The most successful Calvinball series are those that manage to keep themselves on the air for year after year without alienating or frustrating the audience and without having to resort to such heavy-handed ground-clearance techniques as crashing a plane into a village, travelling back in time, revealing that it was all a dream or repeatedly hitting the reset button. The aim of the game is not to provide answers but to hold an audience's attention by asking ever more evocative and unexpected questions until the continuity eventually becomes so cluttered and unmanageable that the entire enterprise collapses in on itself like a dying star.
/home/gwern/wiki/otaku.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/otaku.md:1648-1652 kind=blockquote confidence=85
The reality within the fiction \
The hope within the "blockage" \
In short, the dream \
All I was doing was searching \
For something with the same feeling.
RAW:
> The reality within the fiction \
> The hope within the "blockage" \
> In short, the dream \
> All I was doing was searching \
> For something with the same feeling.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/otaku.md:2334-2376 kind=indented_code confidence=85
Wouldn't it be nice if everyone would just die?
ocean of hopelessness
fragile souls
devious smiles
morbid objects
self-destruction
cruel strangers
replacement of the opposite sex
immediate cure
spreading enfeeblement
wish for nothingness
imprisoned ego
fear for separation
one-sided mistakes
fright of strangers
dangerous thoughts
denial with strangers
aversion to harmony
arrogant understanding
pity for the weak
uneasy photographs
scars from the past
blurred borders
divergence of common sense
lonely people
question of value
fusion with desire
return into the womb
empty time
decline of yearning
needless me
beginning of fabrications
continuation of reality
that's the end of the dream
Then,
why are you here?
...do you really want to stay here?
The End of Evangelion Neon Genesis Evangelion The Movie Air/My Purest Heart for You
RAW:
Wouldn't it be nice if everyone would just die?
ocean of hopelessness
fragile souls
devious smiles
morbid objects
self-destruction
cruel strangers
replacement of the opposite sex
immediate cure
spreading enfeeblement
wish for nothingness
imprisoned ego
fear for separation
one-sided mistakes
fright of strangers
dangerous thoughts
denial with strangers
aversion to harmony
arrogant understanding
pity for the weak
uneasy photographs
scars from the past
blurred borders
divergence of common sense
lonely people
question of value
fusion with desire
return into the womb
empty time
decline of yearning
needless me
beginning of fabrications
continuation of reality
that's the end of the dream
Then,
why are you here?
...do you really want to stay here?
The End of Evangelion Neon Genesis Evangelion The Movie Air/My Purest Heart for You
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/otaku.md:3524-3562 kind=blockquote confidence=85
"the unforgiving other
the substitute opposite sex
the sudden humiliation
the anxiety of departure (from other)
the horror (scare?) of the other
dangerous thinking (wisdom)
the proud of taking chance (????)
mercy of the weak
the unhappy photo
the scar of the pass
the uncomfortable/embarrassing stage (?)
beyond common sense
question the value
combination of lust and love
return to the womb (!!!)
empty time ( the time here I think is being used as noun....so timelessness?)
the vision of distraction
the fictional beginning
the continuation of reality
this, is the end of the dream"
RAW:
> "the unforgiving other
>
> the substitute opposite sex
>
> the sudden humiliation
>
> the anxiety of departure (from other)
>
> the horror (scare?) of the other
>
> dangerous thinking (wisdom)
>
> the proud of taking chance (????)
>
> mercy of the weak
>
> the unhappy photo
>
> the scar of the pass
>
> the uncomfortable/embarrassing stage (?)
>
> beyond common sense
>
> question the value
>
> combination of lust and love
>
> return to the womb (!!!)
>
> empty time ( the time here I think is being used as noun....so timelessness?)
>
> the vision of distraction
>
> the fictional beginning
>
> the continuation of reality
>
> this, is the end of the dream"
/home/gwern/wiki/otaku-prediction.md
/home/gwern/wiki/ova.md
/home/gwern/wiki/placeholder.md
/home/gwern/wiki/plastination.md
/home/gwern/wiki/poisson.md
/home/gwern/wiki/prediction-market.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/prediction-market.md:604-613 kind=blockquote confidence=85
I am the [core of my mind.](https://paulgraham.com/identity.html "'Keep Your Identity Small', Graham 2009") \
[Belief](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/XhaKvQyHzeXdNnFKy/probability-is-subjectively-objective) is my body and [choice](https://www.lesswrong.com/tag/rationality-is-systematized-winning) is my blood. \
[I have recorded](https://predictionbook.com/users/gwern) over a thousand predictions, \
[Unaware of fear](!W "Loss aversion") \
Nor [aware of hope](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/sYgv4eYH82JEsTD34/beyond-the-reach-of-god) \
[Have](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/EFQ3F6kmt4WHXRqik/ugh-fields) [withstood](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/tNnhxNYcXYdJYtQRh/overcoming-suffering-emotional-acceptance) [pain](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/dHQkDNMhj692ayx78/avoiding-your-belief-s-real-weak-points) [to update](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/wCqfCLs8z5Qw4GbKS/the-importance-of-saying-oops) many times \
Waiting for [truth's arrival](https://predictionbook.com/predictions/future). \
This is the [one uncertain path](https://www.lesswrong.com/tag/how-to-actually-change-your-mind). \
My whole life has been... \
[Unlimited Bayes Works](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/DoLQN5ryZ9XkZjq5h/tsuyoku-naritai-i-want-to-become-stronger)!^[Modified version of [Eliezer Yudkowsky's parody](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/HWH46whexsoqR3yXk/normal-ending-last-tears-6-8?commentId=GZb3kSi9ZrBQHFY5P) of the [_Fate/Stay Night_ chant](https://www.comipress.com/article/2007/07/02/2228).]
RAW:
> I am the [core of my mind.](https://paulgraham.com/identity.html "'Keep Your Identity Small', Graham 2009") \
> [Belief](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/XhaKvQyHzeXdNnFKy/probability-is-subjectively-objective) is my body and [choice](https://www.lesswrong.com/tag/rationality-is-systematized-winning) is my blood. \
> [I have recorded](https://predictionbook.com/users/gwern) over a thousand predictions, \
> [Unaware of fear](!W "Loss aversion") \
> Nor [aware of hope](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/sYgv4eYH82JEsTD34/beyond-the-reach-of-god) \
> [Have](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/EFQ3F6kmt4WHXRqik/ugh-fields) [withstood](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/tNnhxNYcXYdJYtQRh/overcoming-suffering-emotional-acceptance) [pain](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/dHQkDNMhj692ayx78/avoiding-your-belief-s-real-weak-points) [to update](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/wCqfCLs8z5Qw4GbKS/the-importance-of-saying-oops) many times \
> Waiting for [truth's arrival](https://predictionbook.com/predictions/future). \
> This is the [one uncertain path](https://www.lesswrong.com/tag/how-to-actually-change-your-mind). \
> My whole life has been... \
> [Unlimited Bayes Works](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/DoLQN5ryZ9XkZjq5h/tsuyoku-naritai-i-want-to-become-stronger)!^[Modified version of [Eliezer Yudkowsky's parody](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/HWH46whexsoqR3yXk/normal-ending-last-tears-6-8?commentId=GZb3kSi9ZrBQHFY5P) of the [_Fate/Stay Night_ chant](https://www.comipress.com/article/2007/07/02/2228).]
/home/gwern/wiki/problem-14.md
/home/gwern/wiki/question.md
/home/gwern/wiki/red.md
/home/gwern/wiki/religious-experience.md
/home/gwern/wiki/replication.md
/home/gwern/wiki/research-criticism.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/research-criticism.md:30-30 kind=inline_slash confidence=80
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, / And drinking largely sobers us again
RAW:
Like learning some formal logic or about cognitive biases, statistics seems like the sort of thing one might say "A little learning is a dangerous thing / Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring / There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, / And drinking largely sobers us again."
/home/gwern/wiki/resilient-software.md
/home/gwern/wiki/resorter.md
/home/gwern/wiki/retrocognition.md
/home/gwern/wiki/review/anime.md
/home/gwern/wiki/review/arpa.md
/home/gwern/wiki/review/bakewell.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/bakewell.md:101-125 kind=blockquote confidence=90
...And as the seeds mix, when the woman happens to prevail, \
Her force suddenly conquering the power of the male, \
The children resemble the mother, from maternal seed; in turn, \
When male seed dominates, it is the father you discern. \
And when you see both parents’ features mixed up with each other, \
The children come from flesh and blood of both father and mother \
When the seeds, goaded by Venus, were aroused throughout the frame, \
And met as the two panted together, both burning with one flame, \
Neither seed conquering or conquered, both counting the same.
Sometimes children take after their grandparents instead, \
Or great-grandparents, bringing back the features of the dead. \
This is since parents carry elemental seeds inside--- \
Many and various, mingled many ways---their bodies hide \
Seeds that are handed, parent to child, all down the family tree. \
Venus draws features from these out of her shifting lottery--- \
Bringing back an ancestor’s look or voice or hair. Indeed \
These characteristics are just as much the result of certain seed \
As are our faces, limbs and bodies. Females can arise \
From the paternal seed, just as the male offspring, likewise, \
Can be created from the mother’s flesh. For to comprise \
A child requires a doubled seed---from father and from mother. \
And if the child resembles one more closely than the other, \
*That* parent gave the greater share---which you can plainly see \
Whichever gender---male or female---that the child may be.
RAW:
> ...And as the seeds mix, when the woman happens to prevail, \
> Her force suddenly conquering the power of the male, \
> The children resemble the mother, from maternal seed; in turn, \
> When male seed dominates, it is the father you discern. \
> And when you see both parents’ features mixed up with each other, \
> The children come from flesh and blood of both father and mother \
> When the seeds, goaded by Venus, were aroused throughout the frame, \
> And met as the two panted together, both burning with one flame, \
> Neither seed conquering or conquered, both counting the same.
>
> Sometimes children take after their grandparents instead, \
> Or great-grandparents, bringing back the features of the dead. \
> This is since parents carry elemental seeds inside--- \
> Many and various, mingled many ways---their bodies hide \
> Seeds that are handed, parent to child, all down the family tree. \
> Venus draws features from these out of her shifting lottery--- \
> Bringing back an ancestor’s look or voice or hair. Indeed \
> These characteristics are just as much the result of certain seed \
> As are our faces, limbs and bodies. Females can arise \
> From the paternal seed, just as the male offspring, likewise, \
> Can be created from the mother’s flesh. For to comprise \
> A child requires a doubled seed---from father and from mother. \
> And if the child resembles one more closely than the other, \
> *That* parent gave the greater share---which you can plainly see \
> Whichever gender---male or female---that the child may be.
/home/gwern/wiki/review/bakker.md
/home/gwern/wiki/review/book.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/book.md:4842-4847 kind=indented_code confidence=85
Tell it in the capital:
That like the steadfast pine trees
On Takasago's sands,
At Onoe the cherries on the hilltops
Wait in the fullness of their bloom.
RAW:
Tell it in the capital:
That like the steadfast pine trees
On Takasago's sands,
At Onoe the cherries on the hilltops
Wait in the fullness of their bloom.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/book.md:4850-4855 kind=indented_code confidence=90
The playful sky
Tangles threads of gossamer haze
Among warp and weft
Of the brocade that Spring
Weaves from cherry flowers.
RAW:
The playful sky
Tangles threads of gossamer haze
Among warp and weft
Of the brocade that Spring
Weaves from cherry flowers.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/book.md:4858-4863 kind=indented_code confidence=85
Although forewarned
When I first gazed upon the sky
At this day's dusk,
I was startled by the altered color
Wrought by autumn in the moon.
RAW:
Although forewarned
When I first gazed upon the sky
At this day's dusk,
I was startled by the altered color
Wrought by autumn in the moon.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/book.md:4866-4871 kind=indented_code confidence=90
Has the clear echo
Of the fullers' mallets pounding clothes
Of pure white linen
Become embedded in the color
Of the frost that settles everywhere?
RAW:
Has the clear echo
Of the fullers' mallets pounding clothes
Of pure white linen
Become embedded in the color
Of the frost that settles everywhere?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/book.md:4874-4879 kind=indented_code confidence=90
There is no shelter
Where I can rest my weary horse
And brush my laden sleeves:
The Sano Ford and its adjoining fields
Spread over with twilight in the snow.
RAW:
There is no shelter
Where I can rest my weary horse
And brush my laden sleeves:
The Sano Ford and its adjoining fields
Spread over with twilight in the snow.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/book.md:4882-4887 kind=indented_code confidence=85
Rising from the river,
Does the roar of waves break in upon the sleep
Of the Uji villagers,
So that even at night their way is perilous
Across the floating bridge of dreams?
RAW:
Rising from the river,
Does the roar of waves break in upon the sleep
Of the Uji villagers,
So that even at night their way is perilous
Across the floating bridge of dreams?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/book.md:4890-4895 kind=indented_code confidence=90
Now that the year
Has closed in which it lost its way
Upon the cloudland path,
Must the crane still be kept apart
Even from the haze of a new spring?
RAW:
Now that the year
Has closed in which it lost its way
Upon the cloudland path,
Must the crane still be kept apart
Even from the haze of a new spring?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/book.md:4898-4903 kind=indented_code confidence=90
In our Lord's gracious reign,
Will I still have cause to cry aloud
As cries the crane
That now stalks desolate in reedy marshes
Far from its former cloudland of spring haze?
RAW:
In our Lord's gracious reign,
Will I still have cause to cry aloud
As cries the crane
That now stalks desolate in reedy marshes
Far from its former cloudland of spring haze?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/book.md:10208-10213 kind=indented_code confidence=90
"To what shall I liken this life?
It is like a boat,
Which, unmoored at morn,
Drops out of sight
And leaves no trace behind."
RAW:
"To what shall I liken this life?
It is like a boat,
Which, unmoored at morn,
Drops out of sight
And leaves no trace behind."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/book.md:10217-10222 kind=indented_code confidence=90
"To my good friend
Would I show, I thought,
The plum blossoms,
Now lost to sight
Amid the falling snow."
RAW:
"To my good friend
Would I show, I thought,
The plum blossoms,
Now lost to sight
Amid the falling snow."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/book.md:10225-10242 kind=indented_code confidence=90
"The beach is beautiful; and there grow
The sea-tangles swaying,
Lapped by a thousand waves
In the calm of morning,
And by five hundred waves
In the evening calm.
O Suminoe Beach,
Where white-crested waves are racing around!
Could I weary of watching, not only now,
But day in, day out, over and over again,
As those waves break on the shore?
[Envoy]
Let me go, with my clothes stained
For remembrance with the yellow clay
Of Suminoe's shore, which white-crested waves
Visit, ceaselessly lapping!"
RAW:
"The beach is beautiful; and there grow
The sea-tangles swaying,
Lapped by a thousand waves
In the calm of morning,
And by five hundred waves
In the evening calm.
O Suminoe Beach,
Where white-crested waves are racing around!
Could I weary of watching, not only now,
But day in, day out, over and over again,
As those waves break on the shore?
[Envoy]
Let me go, with my clothes stained
For remembrance with the yellow clay
Of Suminoe's shore, which white-crested waves
Visit, ceaselessly lapping!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/book.md:10245-10270 kind=indented_code confidence=90
"...Forthwith our prince buckled on a sword,
And in his august hand
Grasped a bow to lead the army.
The drums marshaling men in battle array
Sounded like the rumbling thunder,
The war-horns blew, as tigers roar,
Confronting an enemy,
Till all men were shaken with terror.
The banners, hoisted aloft, swayed
As sway in wind the flames that burn
On every moorland far and near
When spring comes after winter's prisonment.
Frightful to hear was the bow-strings' clang,
Like a whirlwind sweeping
Through a winter forest of snow.
And like snow-flakes tempest-driven
The arrows fell thick and fast.
The foemen confronting our prince
Fought, prepared to a man to perish,
If perish they must, like dew or frost;
And vying with one another like birds upon the wing,
They flew to the front of battle---
When lo, from Watarai's holy shrine
There rose the God's Wind confounding them,
By hiding the sun's eye with clouds
And shrouding the world in utter darkness..."
RAW:
"...Forthwith our prince buckled on a sword,
And in his august hand
Grasped a bow to lead the army.
The drums marshaling men in battle array
Sounded like the rumbling thunder,
The war-horns blew, as tigers roar,
Confronting an enemy,
Till all men were shaken with terror.
The banners, hoisted aloft, swayed
As sway in wind the flames that burn
On every moorland far and near
When spring comes after winter's prisonment.
Frightful to hear was the bow-strings' clang,
Like a whirlwind sweeping
Through a winter forest of snow.
And like snow-flakes tempest-driven
The arrows fell thick and fast.
The foemen confronting our prince
Fought, prepared to a man to perish,
If perish they must, like dew or frost;
And vying with one another like birds upon the wing,
They flew to the front of battle---
When lo, from Watarai's holy shrine
There rose the God's Wind confounding them,
By hiding the sun's eye with clouds
And shrouding the world in utter darkness..."
/home/gwern/wiki/review/cat.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/cat.md:105-107 kind=blockquote confidence=85
The rank is but the guinea stamp, / And a cat’s a cat for a’ that.
[Gordon Stable](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Gordon_Stables), [_The Domestic Cat_](http://messybeast.com/bookshelf/stables-domesticcat.htm) (1876; after [Burns](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Man%27s_a_Man_for_A%27_That), not Eliot)
RAW:
> The rank is but the guinea stamp, / And a cat’s a cat for a’ that.
>
> [Gordon Stable](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Gordon_Stables), [_The Domestic Cat_](http://messybeast.com/bookshelf/stables-domesticcat.htm) (1876; after [Burns](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Man%27s_a_Man_for_A%27_That), not Eliot)
/home/gwern/wiki/review/crumb.md
/home/gwern/wiki/review/cultural-revolution.md
/home/gwern/wiki/review/lemuria.md
/home/gwern/wiki/review/mcnamara.md
/home/gwern/wiki/review/mead.md
/home/gwern/wiki/review/mlp.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/review/mlp.md:338-356 kind=blockquote confidence=95
*VII.* ...The spray rainbows over the sloping lawns. \
With short jerks a robin runs up, stands motionless. \
The eucalyptus tree trunks glow in the light. \
The oaks perfect the shadow of May leaves. \
Only this. Only this is worth of praise: the day.
*VIII.* And what if Pascal had not been saved \
and if those narrow hands in which we laid a cross \
are just he, entire, like a lifeless swallow \
in the dust, under the buzz of the poisonous-blue flies?
And if they all, kneeling with poised palms, \
millions, billions of them, ended together with their illusion? \
I shall never agree. I will give them the crown. \
The human mind is splendid; lips, powerful, \
and the summons, so great, it must open Paradise.
*IX.* They are so persistent, that give them a few stones \
and edible roots, and they will build the world.^[[Czesław Miłosz](!W), from "Throughout Our Lands".]
RAW:
> *VII.* ...The spray rainbows over the sloping lawns. \
> With short jerks a robin runs up, stands motionless. \
> The eucalyptus tree trunks glow in the light. \
> The oaks perfect the shadow of May leaves. \
> Only this. Only this is worth of praise: the day.
>
> *VIII.* And what if Pascal had not been saved \
> and if those narrow hands in which we laid a cross \
> are just he, entire, like a lifeless swallow \
> in the dust, under the buzz of the poisonous-blue flies?
>
> And if they all, kneeling with poised palms, \
> millions, billions of them, ended together with their illusion? \
> I shall never agree. I will give them the crown. \
> The human mind is splendid; lips, powerful, \
> and the summons, so great, it must open Paradise.
>
> *IX.* They are so persistent, that give them a few stones \
> and edible roots, and they will build the world.^[[Czesław Miłosz](!W), from "Throughout Our Lands".]
/home/gwern/wiki/review/movie.md
/home/gwern/wiki/review/opera.md
/home/gwern/wiki/review/princess-kaguya.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/princess-kaguya.md:42-49 kind=blockquote confidence=85
Round, round, go round, Waterwheel, go round \
Go round, and call Mr. Sun \
Go round, and call Mr. Sun \
Birds, bugs, beasts, grass, trees, flowers \
Bring spring and summer, fall and winter \
Bring spring and summer, fall and winter \
...Teach me how to feel \
If I hear that you pine for me, I will return to you.
RAW:
> Round, round, go round, Waterwheel, go round \
> Go round, and call Mr. Sun \
> Go round, and call Mr. Sun \
> Birds, bugs, beasts, grass, trees, flowers \
> Bring spring and summer, fall and winter \
> Bring spring and summer, fall and winter \
> ...Teach me how to feel \
> If I hear that you pine for me, I will return to you.
/home/gwern/wiki/review/quantum-thief.md
/home/gwern/wiki/review/space-battleship-yamato.md
/home/gwern/wiki/review/tea.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/tea.md:1127-1127 kind=indented_code confidence=80
Nevertheless, bitter and oversteeped quickly
RAW:
Nevertheless, bitter and oversteeped quickly
/home/gwern/wiki/review/the-bridge.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/review/the-bridge.md:73-100 kind=blockquote confidence=95
About suffering they were never wrong, \
The Old Masters: how well they understood \
Its human position; how it takes place \
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just \
walking dully along; \
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting \
For the miraculous birth, there always must be \
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating \
On a pond at the edge of the wood: \
They never forgot \
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course \
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot \
Where the dogs go on with their doggy \
life and the torturer's horse \
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In [Bruegel's "Icarus"](!W "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus"), for instance: how everything turns away \
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may \
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry, \
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone \
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green \
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen \
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky, \
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
[W. H. Auden](!W), ["Musée des Beaux Arts"](!W "Musée des Beaux Arts (poem)") (1938)
RAW:
> About suffering they were never wrong, \
> The Old Masters: how well they understood \
> Its human position; how it takes place \
> While someone else is eating or opening a window or just \
> walking dully along; \
> How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting \
> For the miraculous birth, there always must be \
> Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating \
> On a pond at the edge of the wood: \
> They never forgot \
> That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course \
> Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot \
> Where the dogs go on with their doggy \
> life and the torturer's horse \
> Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
>
> In [Bruegel's "Icarus"](!W "Landscape with the Fall of Icarus"), for instance: how everything turns away \
> Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may \
> Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry, \
> But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone \
> As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green \
> Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen \
> Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky, \
> had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
>
>
>
> [W. H. Auden](!W), ["Musée des Beaux Arts"](!W "Musée des Beaux Arts (poem)") (1938)
/home/gwern/wiki/review/the-last-unicorn.md
/home/gwern/wiki/review/timecrimes.md
/home/gwern/wiki/review/umineko.md
/home/gwern/wiki/rnn-metadata.md
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/rnn-metadata.md:464-477 kind=indented_code confidence=85
"WITH THE QUEEN OF OTHER HOLY SAILOR"
And shes my brothers to be put upon me, intense and sound,
All are me. Sounds purified, O sound of the streets!
O landscapes! O still the fierce and the scraping of beauty!
The murderous twinkle of the sky and basement,
How the beasts at first began to bite and the waves near the floor.
The walls of lands discover'd passions,
Earth, sword-ships, enders, storms, pools, limailes, shapes of violent,
Rooters, alarms, the light-starring mail, untold arms, patients, portals, the well-managed number, the bravest farms,
The effect of doubts, the bad ways, the deeds of true signs, the curious things, the sound of the world,
It is of figure and anthem, the common battle rais'd,
The beautiful lips of the world that child in them can chase it
...
RAW:
"WITH THE QUEEN OF OTHER HOLY SAILOR"
And shes my brothers to be put upon me, intense and sound,
All are me. Sounds purified, O sound of the streets!
O landscapes! O still the fierce and the scraping of beauty!
The murderous twinkle of the sky and basement,
How the beasts at first began to bite and the waves near the floor.
The walls of lands discover'd passions,
Earth, sword-ships, enders, storms, pools, limailes, shapes of violent,
Rooters, alarms, the light-starring mail, untold arms, patients, portals, the well-managed number, the bravest farms,
The effect of doubts, the bad ways, the deeds of true signs, the curious things, the sound of the world,
It is of figure and anthem, the common battle rais'd,
The beautiful lips of the world that child in them can chase it
...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/rnn-metadata.md:546-613 kind=fenced_code confidence=85
41 Book 40 With patient ones of the seas, the form of the sea which was gained the streets of the moon.
Yet more all contest in the place, See
the stream and constant spirit, that is of a material spirit,
The live of the storm of forms and the first stretch
Of the complexion of the mountains;
The sea fell at the tree, twenty feet wide,
And the taste of a scarlet spot where the captain bears,
She shook the sound the same that was white,
Where the permanent eye of the sea had scarce assembled,
The many such, the beauteous of a subject of such spectacles.
If thou be too sure that thou the second shall not last,
Thou canst not be the exceeding strength of all.
Thou wert as far off as thou goest, the sea Of the bands and the streams of the bloody stars
Of the world are the mountains of the sun,
And so the sun and the sand strike the light,
But each through the sea dead the sun and spire
And the beams of the mountain shed the spirits half so long,
That of the which we throw them all in air.
Think of thy seas, and come thee from that for him,
That thou hast slain in dreams, as they do not see
The horses; but the world beholds me; and behold
The same the dark shadows to the sand,
And stream and slipping of the darkness from the flood.
He that I shall be seen the flying strain,
That pierces with the wind, and the storm of many a thousand rays
Were seen from the act of love to the course.
There was a stream, and all the land and bare
Ereth shall thy spirit be suppos'd
To fall in water, and the wind should go home on all the parts
That stood and meet the world, that with the strong the place
Of thy prayer, or the continual rose,
So that the shape of the brand broke the face,
And to the band of the ring which erewhile
Is turn'd the merchant bride.
I am thine only then such as thou seest,
That the spirits stood in those ancient courses,
And in their spirit to be seen, as in the hard form
Of their laws the people in the land,
That they are between, that thou dost hear a strong shadow,
And then, nor war in all their powers, who purposes hanging to the road,
And to the living sorrow shall make thy days
Behold the strains of the fair streets, and burn,
And the shepherd for the day of the secret tear,
That thou seest so high shall be so many a man.
What can ye see, as sinking on the part
Of this reminiscence of the pursuit?
Behold the martial spirits of men of the rock,
From the flowers of the touch of the land with the sea and the blow
The steamer and the bust of the fair cloud.
The steps behind them still advanc'd, and drew,
As prepared they were alone all now
The sharp stick and all their shapes that winds,
And the trembling streams with silver the showering fires
The same resort; they stood there from the plain,
And shook their arms, sad and strong, and speaks the stars,
Or pointed and his head in the blood,
In light and blue he went, as the contrary came and beat his hands.
The stars, that heard what she approach'd, and drew
The shore, and thus her breast retraced the rushing throng:
"And more with every man the sun
Proclaims the force of future tongues
That this of all the streams are crack'd."
"The thought of me, alas!" said he,
"Now that the thirst of life your country's father sang,
That in the realms of this beast the prince
The victor from the true betray beginnings of the day."
RAW:
~~~{.collapse}
41 Book 40 With patient ones of the seas, the form of the sea which was gained the streets of the moon.
Yet more all contest in the place, See
the stream and constant spirit, that is of a material spirit,
The live of the storm of forms and the first stretch
Of the complexion of the mountains;
The sea fell at the tree, twenty feet wide,
And the taste of a scarlet spot where the captain bears,
She shook the sound the same that was white,
Where the permanent eye of the sea had scarce assembled,
The many such, the beauteous of a subject of such spectacles.
If thou be too sure that thou the second shall not last,
Thou canst not be the exceeding strength of all.
Thou wert as far off as thou goest, the sea Of the bands and the streams of the bloody stars
Of the world are the mountains of the sun,
And so the sun and the sand strike the light,
But each through the sea dead the sun and spire
And the beams of the mountain shed the spirits half so long,
That of the which we throw them all in air.
Think of thy seas, and come thee from that for him,
That thou hast slain in dreams, as they do not see
The horses; but the world beholds me; and behold
The same the dark shadows to the sand,
And stream and slipping of the darkness from the flood.
He that I shall be seen the flying strain,
That pierces with the wind, and the storm of many a thousand rays
Were seen from the act of love to the course.
There was a stream, and all the land and bare
Ereth shall thy spirit be suppos'd
To fall in water, and the wind should go home on all the parts
That stood and meet the world, that with the strong the place
Of thy prayer, or the continual rose,
So that the shape of the brand broke the face,
And to the band of the ring which erewhile
Is turn'd the merchant bride.
I am thine only then such as thou seest,
That the spirits stood in those ancient courses,
And in their spirit to be seen, as in the hard form
Of their laws the people in the land,
That they are between, that thou dost hear a strong shadow,
And then, nor war in all their powers, who purposes hanging to the road,
And to the living sorrow shall make thy days
Behold the strains of the fair streets, and burn,
And the shepherd for the day of the secret tear,
That thou seest so high shall be so many a man.
What can ye see, as sinking on the part
Of this reminiscence of the pursuit?
Behold the martial spirits of men of the rock,
From the flowers of the touch of the land with the sea and the blow
The steamer and the bust of the fair cloud.
The steps behind them still advanc'd, and drew,
As prepared they were alone all now
The sharp stick and all their shapes that winds,
And the trembling streams with silver the showering fires
The same resort; they stood there from the plain,
And shook their arms, sad and strong, and speaks the stars,
Or pointed and his head in the blood,
In light and blue he went, as the contrary came and beat his hands.
The stars, that heard what she approach'd, and drew
The shore, and thus her breast retraced the rushing throng:
"And more with every man the sun
Proclaims the force of future tongues
That this of all the streams are crack'd."
"The thought of me, alas!" said he,
"Now that the thirst of life your country's father sang,
That in the realms of this beast the prince
The victor from the true betray beginnings of the day."
~~~
/home/gwern/wiki/rock-paper-scissors.md
/home/gwern/wiki/rtx.md
/home/gwern/wiki/rubiks-cube-claude.md
/home/gwern/wiki/rubiks-cube.md
/home/gwern/wiki/sae-truesight.md
/home/gwern/wiki/sand.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/sand.md:30-37 kind=blockquote confidence=85
To complain is useless \
Life will be everywhere the same, with a flute of serpents in a land of phantoms \
With a song of thieves in a forest of fragrance \
With the knife-blade of sorrow in the cheeks of hope \
With the yearning of spring in the innermost heart of an owlet \
If only a plow may be found and a keen-edge scythe in a joyful hand \
If only there blossom \
A bit of grain for the holidays, a little wine for remembrance, a little water for the dust.
RAW:
> To complain is useless \
> Life will be everywhere the same, with a flute of serpents in a land of phantoms \
> With a song of thieves in a forest of fragrance \
> With the knife-blade of sorrow in the cheeks of hope \
> With the yearning of spring in the innermost heart of an owlet \
> If only a plow may be found and a keen-edge scythe in a joyful hand \
> If only there blossom \
> A bit of grain for the holidays, a little wine for remembrance, a little water for the dust.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/sand.md:57-65 kind=blockquote confidence=90
Then from their poverty they rose, \
From dry catarrhs, and to guitars \
They flitted \
Through the palace walls. \
...The gaunt guitarists on the strings \
Rumbled a-day and a-day, a-day. \
The moonlight \
Rose on the beachy floors...
RAW:
> Then from their poverty they rose, \
> From dry catarrhs, and to guitars \
> They flitted \
> Through the palace walls. \
>
> ...The gaunt guitarists on the strings \
> Rumbled a-day and a-day, a-day. \
> The moonlight \
> Rose on the beachy floors...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/sand.md:77-80 kind=blockquote confidence=90
I had never had a piece of toast \
Particularly long and wide \
But fell upon the sanded floor \
And always on the buttered side.
RAW:
> I had never had a piece of toast \
> Particularly long and wide \
> But fell upon the sanded floor \
> And always on the buttered side.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/sand.md:104-111 kind=blockquote confidence=90
[Goldsmith's](!W "Oliver Goldsmith") most famous poem, _[The Deserted Village](!W)_, was enthusiastically received when it first appeared in May, 1770...It comes from a letter written to his brother...:
> Your last letter, I repeat it, was too short: you should have given me your opinion of the design of the heroicomical poem which I sent you...The room in which he lies, may be described somewhat in this way:
>
> > The window, patch'd with paper, lent a ray, \
> > That feebly shew'd the state in which he lay. \
> > The sanded floor, that grits beneath the tread: \
> > The humid wall with paltry pictures spread...
RAW:
> [Goldsmith's](!W "Oliver Goldsmith") most famous poem, _[The Deserted Village](!W)_, was enthusiastically received when it first appeared in May, 1770...It comes from a letter written to his brother...:
>
>> Your last letter, I repeat it, was too short: you should have given me your opinion of the design of the heroicomical poem which I sent you...The room in which he lies, may be described somewhat in this way:
> >
>> > The window, patch'd with paper, lent a ray, \
>> > That feebly shew'd the state in which he lay. \
>> > The sanded floor, that grits beneath the tread: \
>> > The humid wall with paltry pictures spread...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/sand.md:114-121 kind=blockquote confidence=85
...The last of the group of four early 'wish' poems is "After reading in a Letter proposals for building a Cottage", published in Clare's second collection, _The Village Minstrel_ (1821)...Clare is clearly determined to do things his own way. There are to be no redundant possessions or luxuries here, not even a library or a study, just "A cubboard for the books" (l. 32). He would like a sanded floor, though, as he points out in the concluding lines:
> Along the floor some sand Ill sift \
> to make it fit to live in \
> & then Ill thank ye for the gift \
> As somthing worth the giving (ll. 33-6)^25^
This may merely reflect the common rural reality of a well-trodden earth floor in need of sand, but it might also recall the "nicely-sanded floor" of Goldsmith's idealised alehouse in _The Deserted Village_ (l.227), or perhaps Robinson Crusoe in his snug cave, an early literary hero whose story could always, as Clare puts it, "fill my fancys" (_By Himself_, 57).
RAW:
> ...The last of the group of four early 'wish' poems is "After reading in a Letter proposals for building a Cottage", published in Clare's second collection, _The Village Minstrel_ (1821)...Clare is clearly determined to do things his own way. There are to be no redundant possessions or luxuries here, not even a library or a study, just "A cubboard for the books" (l. 32). He would like a sanded floor, though, as he points out in the concluding lines:
>
>> Along the floor some sand Ill sift \
>> to make it fit to live in \
>> & then Ill thank ye for the gift \
>> As somthing worth the giving (ll. 33-6)^25^
>
> This may merely reflect the common rural reality of a well-trodden earth floor in need of sand, but it might also recall the "nicely-sanded floor" of Goldsmith's idealised alehouse in _The Deserted Village_ (l.227), or perhaps Robinson Crusoe in his snug cave, an early literary hero whose story could always, as Clare puts it, "fill my fancys" (_By Himself_, 57).
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/sand.md:124-124 kind=blockquote confidence=90
...The wet deception from his eyes / Kept fading more and more; / He only saw the bar-maid stand / With pouting lip, before / The small green parlour at The Ship / And little sanded floor!
RAW:
> ...The wet deception from his eyes / Kept fading more and more; / He only saw the bar-maid stand / With pouting lip, before / The small green parlour at The Ship / And little sanded floor!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/sand.md:168-168 kind=blockquote confidence=90
...She sits o'er the sanded floor / By the fireplace wide and high; / And there she is sitting for me evermore, / Still and pure as a star in the sky. / A child of three summer seasons then, / Three dreaming summers, was I; and when / Another was gone of those long years, / Unmothered a month had I been...
RAW:
> ...She sits o'er the sanded floor / By the fireplace wide and high; / And there she is sitting for me evermore, / Still and pure as a star in the sky. / A child of three summer seasons then, / Three dreaming summers, was I; and when / Another was gone of those long years, / Unmothered a month had I been...
/home/gwern/wiki/scaling-hypothesis.md
/home/gwern/wiki/scanners.md
/home/gwern/wiki/screwfly.md
/home/gwern/wiki/search-case-studies.md
/home/gwern/wiki/search.md
/home/gwern/wiki/second-life-sentence.md
/home/gwern/wiki/selection.md
/home/gwern/wiki/self-decrypting.md
/home/gwern/wiki/sicp/1-1.md
/home/gwern/wiki/sicp/1-2.md
/home/gwern/wiki/sicp/1-3.md
/home/gwern/wiki/sicp/introduction.md
/home/gwern/wiki/sidenote.md
/home/gwern/wiki/silk-road.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/silk-road.md:906-908 kind=blockquote confidence=75
If you're gonna play the game, boy, ya gotta learn to play it right: / You got to know when to hold'em, know when to fold'em, / Know when to walk away---know when to run.
Don Schlitz, ["The Gambler"](!W "The Gambler (song)")
RAW:
> If you're gonna play the game, boy, ya gotta learn to play it right: / You got to know when to hold'em, know when to fold'em, / Know when to walk away---know when to run.
>
> Don Schlitz, ["The Gambler"](!W "The Gambler (song)")
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/silk-road.md:1020-1025 kind=blockquote confidence=90
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, \
And thus the native hue of resolution \
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, \
And enterprises of great pith and moment, \
With this regard their currents turn awry, \
And lose the name of action.
RAW:
> Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, \
> And thus the native hue of resolution \
> Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, \
> And enterprises of great pith and moment, \
> With this regard their currents turn awry, \
> And lose the name of action.
/home/gwern/wiki/simulation-inference.md
/home/gwern/wiki/slowing-moores-law.md
/home/gwern/wiki/smpy.md
/home/gwern/wiki/socks.md
/home/gwern/wiki/sort.md
/home/gwern/wiki/soylent.md
/home/gwern/wiki/spaced-repetition.md
/home/gwern/wiki/speedrunning.md
/home/gwern/wiki/startup-idea.md
/home/gwern/wiki/story-of-your-life.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/story-of-your-life.md:310-327 kind=blockquote confidence=85
Once when Hyakujo delivered some Zen lectures an old man attended them, unseen by the monks. At the end of each talk when the monks left so did he. But one day he remained after they had gone, and Hyakujo asked him: "Who are you?"
The old man replied: "I am not a human being, but I was a human being when the Kashapa Buddha preached in this world. I was a Zen master and lived on this mountain. At that time one of my students asked me whether the enlightened man is subject to the law of causation. I answered him: 'The enlightened man is not subject to the law of causation.' For this answer evidencing a clinging to absoluteness I became a fox for five hundred rebirths, and I am still a fox. Will you save me from this condition with your Zen words and let me get out of a fox's body? Now may I ask you: Is the enlightened man subject to the law of causation?"
Hyakujo said: "The enlightened man is one with the law of causation."
At the words of Hyakujo the old man was enlightened. "I am emancipated", he said, paying homage with a deep bow. "I am no more a fox, but I have to leave my body in my dwelling place behind this mountain. Please perform my funeral as a monk." Then he disappeared. The next day Hyakujo gave an order through the chief monk to prepare to attend the funeral of a monk. "No one was sick in the infirmary", wondered the monks. "What does our teacher mean?" After dinner Hyakujo led the monks out and around the mountain. In a cave, with his staff he poked out the corpse of an old fox and then performed the ceremony of cremation.
...Mumon's comment: "The enlightened man is not subject." How can this answer make the monk a fox?
"The enlightened man is at one with the law of causation." How can this answer make the fox emancipated?
To understand clearly one has to have just one eye.
> Controlled or not controlled? \
> The same dice shows two faces. \
> Not controlled or controlled, \
> Both are a grievous error.
RAW:
> Once when Hyakujo delivered some Zen lectures an old man attended them, unseen by the monks. At the end of each talk when the monks left so did he. But one day he remained after they had gone, and Hyakujo asked him: "Who are you?"
>
> The old man replied: "I am not a human being, but I was a human being when the Kashapa Buddha preached in this world. I was a Zen master and lived on this mountain. At that time one of my students asked me whether the enlightened man is subject to the law of causation. I answered him: 'The enlightened man is not subject to the law of causation.' For this answer evidencing a clinging to absoluteness I became a fox for five hundred rebirths, and I am still a fox. Will you save me from this condition with your Zen words and let me get out of a fox's body? Now may I ask you: Is the enlightened man subject to the law of causation?"
>
> Hyakujo said: "The enlightened man is one with the law of causation."
>
> At the words of Hyakujo the old man was enlightened. "I am emancipated", he said, paying homage with a deep bow. "I am no more a fox, but I have to leave my body in my dwelling place behind this mountain. Please perform my funeral as a monk." Then he disappeared. The next day Hyakujo gave an order through the chief monk to prepare to attend the funeral of a monk. "No one was sick in the infirmary", wondered the monks. "What does our teacher mean?" After dinner Hyakujo led the monks out and around the mountain. In a cave, with his staff he poked out the corpse of an old fox and then performed the ceremony of cremation.
>
> ...Mumon's comment: "The enlightened man is not subject." How can this answer make the monk a fox?
>
> "The enlightened man is at one with the law of causation." How can this answer make the fox emancipated?
>
> To understand clearly one has to have just one eye.
>
> > Controlled or not controlled? \
> > The same dice shows two faces. \
> > Not controlled or controlled, \
> > Both are a grievous error.
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/home/gwern/wiki/story-of-your-life.md:419-428 kind=blockquote confidence=85
To tell Diomedes' story, Homer doesn't think \
He has to start with the death of the hero's uncle, \
Or start, in telling about the Trojan War, \
By telling us how Helen came out of an egg. \
He goes right to the point and carries the reader \
Into the midst of things, as if known already; \
And if there's material that he despairs of presenting \
So as to shine for us, he leaves it out; \
And he makes his whole poem one. What's true, what's invented, \
Beginning, middle, and end, all fit together.^[[Horace](!W), _[Ars Poetica](!W "Ars Poetica (Horace)")_]
RAW:
> To tell Diomedes' story, Homer doesn't think \
> He has to start with the death of the hero's uncle, \
> Or start, in telling about the Trojan War, \
> By telling us how Helen came out of an egg. \
> He goes right to the point and carries the reader \
> Into the midst of things, as if known already; \
> And if there's material that he despairs of presenting \
> So as to shine for us, he leaves it out; \
> And he makes his whole poem one. What's true, what's invented, \
> Beginning, middle, and end, all fit together.^[[Horace](!W), _[Ars Poetica](!W "Ars Poetica (Horace)")_]
/home/gwern/wiki/stress.md
/home/gwern/wiki/style-guide.md
/home/gwern/wiki/subculture.md
/home/gwern/wiki/subscript.md
/home/gwern/wiki/sunk-cost.md
/home/gwern/wiki/suzanne-delage.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/suzanne-delage.md:162-171 kind=blockquote confidence=90
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be \
A couch for luxury and damnèd incest. \
But, howsomever thou pursues this act, \
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive \
Against thy mother aught. Leave her to heaven \
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge \
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once. \
The glowworm shows the matin to be near \
And ’gins to pale his uneffectual fire. \
Adieu, adieu, adieu. Remember me.
RAW:
> Let not the royal bed of Denmark be \
> A couch for luxury and damnèd incest. \
> But, howsomever thou pursues this act, \
> Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive \
> Against thy mother aught. Leave her to heaven \
> And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge \
> To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once. \
> The glowworm shows the matin to be near \
> And ’gins to pale his uneffectual fire. \
> Adieu, adieu, adieu. Remember me.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/suzanne-delage.md:179-202 kind=blockquote confidence=90
O all you host of heaven! O Earth! What else? \
And shall I couple hell? O fie! Hold, hold, my heart, \
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, \
But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee? \
Ay, thou poor ghost, whiles memory holds a seat \
In this distracted globe. Remember thee? \
Yea, from the table of my memory \
I’ll wipe away all trivial, fond records, \
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, \
That youth and observation copied there, \
And thy commandment all alone shall live \
Within the book and volume of my brain, \
Unmixed with baser matter. Yes, by heaven! \
O most pernicious woman! \
O villain, villain, smiling, damnèd villain! \
My tables—meet it is I set it down \
That one may smile and smile and be a villain. \
At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark.
\[Stage notation: "He writes."\] ^[This is not in [either quarto](!W "Hamlet Q1") or the [First Folio](!W) [versions](!W "Early texts of Shakespeare's works"), but most editors add this stage notation, because Hamlet implies he is writing as he recites it, when he finishes by saying "So, uncle, there you are" (["So vncle, there you are, there you are."](https://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/doc/Ham_Q1/complete/index.html#tln-795), ["So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word."](https://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/doc/Ham_Q2/complete/index.html#tln-795), ["So Vnckle there you are: now to my word;"](https://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/doc/Ham_F1/complete/index.html#tln-795), respectively).]
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word. \
It is “adieu, adieu, remember me.” \
I have sworn’t.
RAW:
> O all you host of heaven! O Earth! What else? \
> And shall I couple hell? O fie! Hold, hold, my heart, \
> And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, \
> But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee? \
> Ay, thou poor ghost, whiles memory holds a seat \
> In this distracted globe. Remember thee? \
> Yea, from the table of my memory \
> I’ll wipe away all trivial, fond records, \
> All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, \
> That youth and observation copied there, \
> And thy commandment all alone shall live \
> Within the book and volume of my brain, \
> Unmixed with baser matter. Yes, by heaven! \
> O most pernicious woman! \
> O villain, villain, smiling, damnèd villain! \
> My tables—meet it is I set it down \
> That one may smile and smile and be a villain. \
> At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark.
>
> \[Stage notation: "He writes."\] ^[This is not in [either quarto](!W "Hamlet Q1") or the [First Folio](!W) [versions](!W "Early texts of Shakespeare's works"), but most editors add this stage notation, because Hamlet implies he is writing as he recites it, when he finishes by saying "So, uncle, there you are" (["So vncle, there you are, there you are."](https://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/doc/Ham_Q1/complete/index.html#tln-795), ["So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word."](https://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/doc/Ham_Q2/complete/index.html#tln-795), ["So Vnckle there you are: now to my word;"](https://internetshakespeare.uvic.ca/doc/Ham_F1/complete/index.html#tln-795), respectively).]
>
> So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word. \
> It is “adieu, adieu, remember me.” \
> I have sworn’t.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
/home/gwern/wiki/suzanne-delage.md:909-931 kind=blockquote confidence=90
Hampton Court Palace, situated between [Bushy Park](!W) and [Home Park](!W) about 15 miles from London, was founded by [Cardinal Wolsey](!W) in 1515. Wolsey later presented the palace to [Henry VIII](!W), his patron.
The tapestries Harker saw were probably those in the Great Hall of the palace, which [contains tapestries](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Story_of_Abraham_(tapestries)) representing scenes from the life of Abraham.
The castle, in Stoker’s time (and today), was open to visitors daily from 10:00 A.M. to 4:00 P.M., though on Sundays it opened at 2:00 P.M. Admission was free, and visitors were “required to pass from room to room in one direction only.”
Alexander Pope describes the ambiance of artificiality and sexual frivolity for which Hampton Court was famous in the eighteenth century. For Pope, Hampton Court was the place [where](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44908/the-rape-of-the-lock-canto-3 "The Rape of the Lock § Canto 3, Alexander Pope 1714")
> ...*Britain's* Statesmen oft the Fall foredoom \
> Of Foreign Tyrants, and of Nymphs at home; \
> ... \
> Hither the Heroes and the Nymphs resort, \
> To taste awhile the Pleasures of a Court; \
> In various Talk th’ instructive hours they past, \
> Who gave the *Ball*, or paid the *Visit* last: \
> ... \
> ...one describes a charming *Indian Screen*; \
> A third interprets Motions, Looks, and Eyes; \
> At ev’ry Word a Reputation dies. \
> *Snuff*, or the *Fan*, supply each Pause of Chat, \
> With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that.
As Pope saw it, Hampton Court was the appropriate setting for the heartless amatory war between the beautiful Belinda and the Baron who was to commit the Rape of the Lock.
RAW:
> Hampton Court Palace, situated between [Bushy Park](!W) and [Home Park](!W) about 15 miles from London, was founded by [Cardinal Wolsey](!W) in 1515. Wolsey later presented the palace to [Henry VIII](!W), his patron.
>
> The tapestries Harker saw were probably those in the Great Hall of the palace, which [contains tapestries](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Story_of_Abraham_(tapestries)) representing scenes from the life of Abraham.
>
> The castle, in Stoker’s time (and today), was open to visitors daily from 10:00 A.M. to 4:00 P.M., though on Sundays it opened at 2:00 P.M. Admission was free, and visitors were “required to pass from room to room in one direction only.”
>
> Alexander Pope describes the ambiance of artificiality and sexual frivolity for which Hampton Court was famous in the eighteenth century. For Pope, Hampton Court was the place [where](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44908/the-rape-of-the-lock-canto-3 "The Rape of the Lock § Canto 3, Alexander Pope 1714")
>
> > ...*Britain's* Statesmen oft the Fall foredoom \
> > Of Foreign Tyrants, and of Nymphs at home; \
> > ... \
> > Hither the Heroes and the Nymphs resort, \
> > To taste awhile the Pleasures of a Court; \
> > In various Talk th’ instructive hours they past, \
> > Who gave the *Ball*, or paid the *Visit* last: \
> > ... \
> > ...one describes a charming *Indian Screen*; \
> > A third interprets Motions, Looks, and Eyes; \
> > At ev’ry Word a Reputation dies. \
> > *Snuff*, or the *Fan*, supply each Pause of Chat, \
> > With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that.
>
> As Pope saw it, Hampton Court was the appropriate setting for the heartless amatory war between the beautiful Belinda and the Baron who was to commit the Rape of the Lock.
/home/gwern/wiki/tank.md
/home/gwern/wiki/terrorism-is-not-about-terror.md
/home/gwern/wiki/terrorism-is-not-effective.md
/home/gwern/wiki/timestamping.md
/home/gwern/wiki/timing.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/timing.md:50-61 kind=blockquote confidence=90
Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe. \
The enemy increaseth every day. \
We, at the height, are ready to decline. \
There is a tide in the affairs of men, \
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; \
Omitted, all the voyage of their life \
Is bound in shallows and in miseries. \
On such a full sea are we now afloat, \
And we must take the current when it serves \
Or lose our ventures.
William Shakespeare (Brutus, [_Julius Caesar_](!W "Julius Caesar (play)"))
RAW:
> Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe. \
> The enemy increaseth every day. \
> We, at the height, are ready to decline. \
> There is a tide in the affairs of men, \
> Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; \
> Omitted, all the voyage of their life \
> Is bound in shallows and in miseries. \
> On such a full sea are we now afloat, \
> And we must take the current when it serves \
> Or lose our ventures.
>
> William Shakespeare (Brutus, [_Julius Caesar_](!W "Julius Caesar (play)"))
/home/gwern/wiki/tla.md
/home/gwern/wiki/tool-ai.md
/home/gwern/wiki/touhou.md
/home/gwern/wiki/tpb-bitcoin.md
/home/gwern/wiki/traffic-lights.md
/home/gwern/wiki/traffic.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/traffic.md:1584-1587 kind=blockquote confidence=85
To write something and leave it behind us, \
Is but a dream. \
When we awake we know \
There is not even anyone to read it.
RAW:
> To write something and leave it behind us, \
> Is but a dream. \
> When we awake we know \
> There is not even anyone to read it.
/home/gwern/wiki/treadmill.md
/home/gwern/wiki/tree-embedding.md
/home/gwern/wiki/tryon.md
/home/gwern/wiki/turing-complete.md
/home/gwern/wiki/twdne.md
/home/gwern/wiki/twitter.md
/home/gwern/wiki/ugly-anime.md
/home/gwern/wiki/unseeing.md
/home/gwern/wiki/unsort.md
/home/gwern/wiki/utext.md
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/home/gwern/wiki/utext.md:153-163 kind=indented_code confidence=85
┏━━━┳━━━┓
┃ | ┃ – ┃
┣━━━╋━━━┫
┃ H ┃ ‡ ┃
┗━━━┻━━━┛
“Is this loss”—in Unicode?
Depends how generous you feel.
(And what fonts you installed.)
RAW:
┏━━━┳━━━┓
┃ | ┃ – ┃
┣━━━╋━━━┫
┃ H ┃ ‡ ┃
┗━━━┻━━━┛
“Is this loss”—in Unicode?
Depends how generous you feel.
(And what fonts you installed.)
/home/gwern/wiki/variable.md
/home/gwern/wiki/water.md
/home/gwern/wiki/weather.md
/home/gwern/wiki/web-color.md
/home/gwern/wiki/website-luxury.md
/home/gwern/wiki/wifi.md
/home/gwern/wiki/wikipedia-and-dark-side-editing.md
/home/gwern/wiki/wikipedia-and-knol.md
/home/gwern/wiki/wikipedia-and-other-wikis.md
/home/gwern/wiki/wikipedia-and-youtube.md
/home/gwern/wiki/wikipedia-resume.md
/home/gwern/wiki/wood-pillow.md
/home/gwern/wiki/xanadu.md
/home/gwern/wiki/zeo/caffeine.md
/home/gwern/wiki/zeo/co2.md
/home/gwern/wiki/zeo/potassium.md
/home/gwern/wiki/zeo/redshift.md
/home/gwern/wiki/zeo/vitamin-d.md
/home/gwern/wiki/zeo/zeo.md
/home/gwern/wiki/zeo/zma.md