June 15, 2003: Difference between revisions

From Gerald R. Lucas
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{{Large|Quest-ions}}
{{Large|Shakespearian Quest-ions}}


{{cquote|<poem>The weight of this sad time we must obey,
{{cquote|<poem>The weight of this sad time we must obey,
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{{* * *}}
{{* * *}}


{{cquote|Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much.|source=''Much Ado about Nothing'', II.i}}  
{{cquote|Silence is the perfectest herald of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much.|source=''Much Ado about Nothing'', II.i|width=50%}}  


Is silence a prerequisite of acceptance? Shit, that’s a question...
Is silence a prerequisite of acceptance? Shit, that’s a question...


{{* * *}}
<blockquote><blockquote>
{{Anchor|Sonnet23}}{{Large|Sonnet 23}}
<poem>
As an unperfect actor on the stage,
Who with his fear is put beside his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart;
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say {{ln|5}}
The perfect ceremony of love’s rite,
And in mine own love’s strength seem to decay,
O’ercharged with burthen of mine own love’s might.
O! let my looks be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, {{ln|10}}
Who plead for love, and look for recompense,
More than that tongue that more hath more express’d.
::O! learn to read what silent love hath writ:
::To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.
</poem>
</blockquote></blockquote>


{{2003|state=expanded}}
{{2003|state=expanded}}

Revision as of 18:44, 14 January 2020

Shakespearian Quest-ions

OK, Bill, then what about questions? Don't ask them unless you really want to hear the answers.

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Is silence a prerequisite of acceptance? Shit, that’s a question...

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Sonnet 23

As an unperfect actor on the stage,
Who with his fear is put beside his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart;
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say 5
The perfect ceremony of love’s rite,
And in mine own love’s strength seem to decay,
O’ercharged with burthen of mine own love’s might.
O! let my looks be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, 10
Who plead for love, and look for recompense,
More than that tongue that more hath more express’d.
O! learn to read what silent love hath writ:
To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.