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 Used Books Forum may be found at http://killdevilhill.com/usedbookschat/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:

LXXVII

Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear,
Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste;
These vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear,
And of this book, this learning mayst thou taste. 
The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show
Of mouthed graves will give thee memory;
Thou by thy dial's shady stealth mayst know
Time's thievish progress to eternity.
Look! what thy memory cannot contain,
Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find
Those children nursed, deliver'd from thy brain,
To take a new acquaintance of thy mind.
  These offices, so oft as thou wilt look,
  Shall profit thee and much enrich thy book.
 	--William Shakespeare

Things are pretty, graceful, rich, elegant, handsome, but, until they speak to the imagination, not yet beautiful.

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.

XXVIII

How can I then return in happy plight,
That am debarre'd the benefit of rest?
When day's oppression is not eas'd by night,
But day by night and night by day oppress'd,
And each, though enemies to either's reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me,
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee. 
I tell the day, to please him thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven:
So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night,
When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even.
  But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
  And night doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger.
 	--William Shakespeare

All The Best,

William Einstein Shakespeare :)

It may affront the military-minded person to suggest a reqime that does not maintain any military secrets. -- Albert Einstein