Author: Nike (---.126.254.80.donpac.ru)
Date: 01-23-06 12:56
The former post was off topic and was removed as it was a violation of our
Great Books spirit.
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discussions along the following
There is a battle that goes on between men and women. Many people
call it love.
But be contented: when that fell arrest
Without all bail shall carry me away,
My life hath in this line some interest,
Which for memorial still with thee shall stay.
When thou reviewest this, thou dost review
The very part was consecrate to thee:
The earth can have but earth, which is his due;
My spirit is thine, the better part of me:
So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life,
The prey of worms, my body being dead;
The coward conquest of a wretch\'s knife,
Too base of thee to be remembered,.
The worth of that is that which it contains,
And that is this, and this with thee remains.
Art is idea. It is not enough to draw, paint, and sculpt. An
artist should be able to think.
How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame
Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose,
Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name!
O! in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose.
That tongue that tells the story of thy days,
Making lascivious comments on thy sport,
Cannot dispraise, but in a kind of praise;
Naming thy name, blesses an ill report.
O! what a mansion have those vices got
Which for their habitation chose out thee,
Where beauty\'s veil doth cover every blot
And all things turns to fair that eyes can see!
Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege;
The hardest knife ill-us\'d doth lose his edge.