Saturday, April 29, 2006
I will tell you why, so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery
I have of late -- but wherefore I know not -- lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises. Indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapoures.
What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty! In form and moving how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me: no, nor women neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty! In form and moving how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me: no, nor women neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
