Sonnet 128 - CXXVIII
How oft when thou, my music, music play'st,
Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds
With thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway'st
The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,
Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap,
To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,
Whilst my poor lips which should that harvest reap,
At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand!
To be so tickled, they would change their state
…
Comprehensive indicators and fine granularity refine density scaling laws in rural-urban systems
Jack Sutton, Quentin S. Hanley, Gerri Mortimore, Ovidiu Bagdasar, Haroldo V. Ribeiro, Thomas Peron, Golnaz Shahtahmassebi, Peter Scriven
https://arxiv.org/abs/2509.14258
"participating artists will have “full control” over how their likeness and music are used, though it doesn’t share how."
Sure.
https://www.theverge.com/news/829189/warner-music-group-suno-ai-licensing-deal
Reconstruction of Boundary Data in the Helmholtz Equation Using Particle Swarm Optimization
Jamal Daoudi, Chakir Tajani
https://arxiv.org/abs/2510.05755 https://