| Poem for Tuesday |
[Mar. 4th, 2003|09:48 am] |
Sonnet 30
By William Shakespeare
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.
In honor of this, gacked from ![[info]](http://img.greatestjournal.com/userinfo.gif) cara_chapel:
Shakespeare Obsession
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One article that had me raising my eyebrows, by a columnist I usually like, because I am not clear on his point on "God, Satan and the Media" -- so, like, if enough Americans believe that Creationism is true, we should speak of it as if it is true? How about if a majority of Americans believe that the world is flat? Or that God wants us to kill all the infidels? I'm all in favor of not dissing Jesus -- it's not Jesus' fault if a good many of His followers are hypocritical assholes. But that doesn't mean that I won't call them hypocritical assholes whether they invoke His name or not. |
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