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Due to spam and off-topic content, these forums are being phased out and replaced with new great books forums. Please join us! Ahoy fellow book lovers!
The former post was removed as it violated our user agreement, or it did not add to the "Great Books" conversation in a constructive manner.
The new Shakespearen Sonnets Forum may be found at http://killdevilhill.com/sonnetchat/wwwboard.html .
To foster quality discussion forums, from now on only registered members may post. Spam will not be tolerated. If you would like to help moderate, please contact "jolly roger ship @ yahoo . com".
To post please register at http://jollyrogerwest.com.
We prefer deep reflections on Philosophy, Shakespearean Sonnets, and tender musings along the lines of:
The eternal mystery of the world is its comprehensibility. --Albert Einstein
LXXXI Or I shall live your epitaph to make, Or you survive when I in earth am rotten; From hence your memory death cannot take, Although in me each part will be forgotten. Your name from hence immortal life shall have, Though I, once gone, to all the world must die: The earth can yield me but a common grave, When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie. Your monument shall be my gentle verse, Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read; And tongues to be, your being shall rehearse, When all the breathers of this world are dead; You still shall live,--such virtue hath my pen,-- Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men. --William Shakespeare
It is our continuing goal to foster the world's greatest converstation.
In the future, please register and make all posts to http://jollyrogerwest.com,
and/or join the forums at Great Books & Philosophy Forums @ jollyroger.com/greatbooksforums.
LXX That thou art blam'd shall not be thy defect, For slander's mark was ever yet the fair; The ornament of beauty is suspect, A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air. So thou be good, slander doth but approve Thy worth the greater being woo'd of time; For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love, And thou present'st a pure unstained prime. Thou hast passed by the ambush of young days Either not assail'd, or victor being charg'd; Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise, To tie up envy, evermore enlarg'd, If some suspect of ill mask'd not thy show, Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe. --William Shakespeare
All The Best,
William Einstein Shakespeare :)
Beauty deprived of its proper foils an adjuncts ceases to be enjoyed as beauty, just as light deprived of all shadow ceases to be enjoyed as light. -John Ruskin, Modern Painters (1843-60)