quote
I opened one of my aunt Karen's books last night and a piece of paper fell out of it on which she had written -
Grief has changed me since you saw me last
and careful hours, with time's deformed hand
hath written strange defections
o'er my face
- Shakespeare
posted by Silk E. at
10:14 PM
2 Comments:
the comedy of errors. you can always count on will.
9:13 PM
looking at this again, i thought i'd also pass along one of my favorite passages from hamlet, which of course has some of the most beautiful writing on grief ever; it comes early on in the play, when hamlet's mother asks him why he seems so particularly miserable over his father's death.
seems, madam? nay, it is, i know not "seems."
tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
nor customary suits of solemn black,
nor windy suspiration of forced breath,
no, nor the fruitful river of the eye,
nor the dejected havior of the visage,
together with all forms, moods, and shapes of grief
which can denote me truly. these indeed "seem,"
for they are actions that a man might play;
but i have that within which passes show,
these but the trappings and the suits of woe.
1:26 PM
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