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 Samuel Taylor Coleridge Forum may be found at http://westerncanon.com/bookforums/forumdisplay.php?f=31 .
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:
CXXXII Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. And truly not the morning sun of heaven Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, Nor that full star that ushers in the even, Doth half that glory to the sober west, As those two mourning eyes become thy face: O! let it then as well beseem thy heart To mourn for me since mourning doth thee grace, And suit thy pity like in every part. Then will I swear beauty herself is black, And all they foul that thy complexion lack. --William Shakespeare
Beauty in all things-no, we cannot hope for that; but some place set apart for it. -Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1940
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.
Yes, we have to divide up our time like that, between our politics and our equations. But to me our equations are far more important, for politics are only a matter of present concern. A mathematical equation stands forever. --Albert Einstein
All The Best,
William Einstein Shakespeare :)
LXV Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But sad mortality o'ersways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower? O! how shall summer's honey breath hold out, Against the wrackful siege of battering days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong but Time decays? O fearful meditation! where, alack, Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back? Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid? O! none, unless this miracle have might, That in black ink my love may still shine bright. --William Shakespeare