Friday, February 6, 2009

Great Britain

Here comes a great map card coming from.....Great Britain!

And there you can actually spot William Shakespeare...one of my favourite writers ever....well...ok, i didnt always have this opinion about him, and i still say that his language and style of writing can be rather annoying and incomprehensive, but his works are masterpieces, thats for sure...his sonnets are amazing, his Macbeth, Merchant of Venice, King Lear, Hamlet, Othello, The Tempest are something everyone should read eventually (Im not crazy about Romeo and Juliet though).
As for his sonnets, i really dont know which one to choose to recommend...they all have their own depth and beauty...they all just feel timeless...

i tried to choose two....it was a hard decision, but if you hadnt read his sonnets yet, these are just to give you an idea about them :)

Sonnet 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.



Sonnet 73

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed, whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.


  

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