The former post was deleted as it violated our user agreement, or it did not add to the "Great Books" conversation in a constructive manner.

The new John Calvin Forum may be found at http://westerncanon.com/bookforums/forumdisplay.php?f=25 .

To foster quality discussion forums throughout Western Canon, 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".

Please register at http://westerncanon.com/bookforums to post in the future.

We prefer deep reflections on Philosophy, Shakespearean Sonnets, and tender musings along the lines of:

And his heart was stirred, it felt a father's kindness: such an emotion as the possessor of beauty can inspire in one who offered himself up in spirit to create beauty. -Thomas Mann, Death in Venice

Equations are more important to me, because politics is for the present, but an equation is something for eternity. --Albert Einstein

It is our continuing goal to foster the world's greatest converstation.

In the future, please register and make all posts to http://westerncanon.com/bookforums,

and/or join the forums at Great Books & Philosophy Forums @ jollyrogerwest.com.

LXXXIX

Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault,
And I will comment upon that offence:
Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt,
Against thy reasons making no defence.
Thou canst not love disgrace me half so ill,
To set a form upon desired change,
As I'll myself disgrace; knowing thy will,
I will acquaintance strangle, and look strange;
Be absent from thy walks; and in my tongue
Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell,
Lest I, too much profane, should do it wrong,
And haply of our old acquaintance tell. 
  For thee, against my self I'll vow debate,
  For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate.
 	--William Shakespeare

All The Best,

William Einstein Shakespeare :)

CXXVI

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his fickle hour;
Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st
Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st.
If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,
As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back,
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill
May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill.
Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure!
She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure:
  Her audit (though delayed) answered must be,
  And her quietus is to render thee.
 	--William Shakespeare