|
|
The new Forum may be found at http://booksliterature.com/ .
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.
In our ongoing effort to ensure quality discussions throughout our 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://jollyroger.com/greatbooksforums or at JollyRogerWest.com Great Books Forums.
We prefer Shakespearean Sonnets, reflections on Space and Time, and posts along the lines of:
Beauty is the gift of God. --Aristotle
XXVII Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear respose for limbs with travel tir'd; But then begins a journey in my head To work my mind, when body's work's expired: For then my thoughts--from far where I abide-- Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see: Save that my soul's imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which, like a jewel (hung in ghastly night, Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new. Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for myself, no quiet find. --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://jollyroger.com/greatbooksforums,
and/or join the forums Great Books & Philosophy Forums @ jollyrogerwest.com.
There is no method but to be very intelligent. T. S. Eliot
Best Regards,
William Einstein Shakespeare :)
CXII Your love and pity doth the impression fill, Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow; For what care I who calls me well or ill, So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow? You are my all-the-world, and I must strive To know my shames and praises from your tongue; None else to me, nor I to none alive, That my steel'd sense or changes right or wrong. In so profound abysm I throw all care Of others' voices, that my adder's sense To critic and to flatterer stopped are. Mark how with my neglect I do dispense: You are so strongly in my purpose bred, That all the world besides methinks are dead. --William Shakespeare