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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.

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We prefer Shakespearean Sonnets, reflections on Space and Time, and posts along the lines of:

LXVIII

Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn,
When beauty lived and died as flowers do now,
Before these bastard signs of fair were born,
Or durst inhabit on a living brow;
Before the golden tresses of the dead,
The right of sepulchres, were shorn away,
To live a second life on second head;
Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay: 
In him those holy antique hours are seen,
Without all ornament, itself and true,
Making no summer of another's green,
Robbing no old to dress his beauty new;
  And him as for a map doth Nature store,
  To show false Art what beauty was of yore.
 	--William Shakespeare

At twenty you have many desires which hide the truth, but beyond forty there are only real and fragile truths -your abilities and your failings. T. S. Eliot

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Nothing lasts except beauty--and I shall create that. -Thomas Wolfe, Letters to His Mother (1943)

Best Regards,

William Einstein Shakespeare :)

It is a medium of entertainment which permits millions of people to listen to the same joke at the same time, and yet remain lonesome. T. S. Eliot