Author: MIHAIL (---.esoo.ru)
Date: 02-06-06 23:41
The former post was off topic and was thus removed as it was a violation of our
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We might come closer to balancing the Budget if all of us lived closer to
the Commandments and the Golden Rule.
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
And situation with those dancing chips,
O\'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,
Making dead wood more bless\'d than living lips.
Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,
Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.
Great spirits have always found violent opposition from mediocrities.
The latter cannot understand it when a man does not thoughtlessly submit
to hereditary prejudices but honestly and courageously uses his
intelligence. --Albert Einstein
Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck;
And yet methinks I have astronomy,
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons\' quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well
By oft predict that I in heaven find:
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And constant stars in them I read such art
As \'Truth and beauty shall together thrive,
If from thyself, to store thou wouldst convert\';
Or else of thee this I prognosticate:
\'Thy end is truth\'s and beauty\'s doom and date.\'
When I consider every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment;
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheered and checked even by the self-same sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with decay
To change your day of youth to sullied night,
And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.