There is a community of the spirit.
Join it, and feel the delight
of walking in the noisy street
and being the noise.
Drink all your passion,
and be a disgrace.
Close both eyes
to see with the other eye.
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Sonnet Lxxxvi by William Shakespeare
Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,Bound for the prize of all too precious you,That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to writeAbove a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?No, neither he, nor his compeers by nightGiving…
Don’t go anywhere without me.
or on the ground, in this world or that world,without my being in its happening.Vision, see nothing I don’t see.Language, say nothing.The way the night knows itself with the moon,be that with me. Be the rosenearest to the thorn that I am.I want to feel myself in you when you taste food,in the arc of…
Sonnet Cxx by William Shakespeare
That you were once unkind befriends me now,And for that sorrow which I then did feelNeeds must I under my transgression bow,Unless my nerves were brass or hammer’d steel.For if you were by my unkindness shakenAs I by yours, you’ve pass’d a hell of time,And I, a tyrant, have no leisure takenTo weigh how once…
Sonnet 55 by William Shakespeare
Not marble, nor the gilded monumentsOf princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme;But you shall shine more bright in these contentsThan unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn,And broils root out the work of masonry,Nor Mars his sword nor war’s quick fire shall burnThe living record of your memory. ‘Gainst death…
Silvia by William Shakespeare
WHO is Silvia? What is she?That all our swains commend her?Holy, fair, and wise is she;The heaven such grace did lend her,That she might admired be. Is she kind as she is fair?For beauty lives with kindness:Love doth to her eyes repair,To help him of his blindness;And, being help’d, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let…
Sonnet Xx by William Shakespeare
A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand paintedHast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquaintedWith shifting change, as is false women’s fashion;An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;A man in hue, all ‘hues’ in his controlling,Much steals men’s eyes and women’s souls…