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Quotes about William Shakespeare

20th Century Man

This is the age of machinery,
A mechanical nightmare,
The wonderful world of technology,
Napalm hydrogen bombs biological warfare,
This is the twentieth century,
But too much aggravation
Its the age of insanity,
What has become of the green pleasant fields of jerusalem.
Aint got no ambition, Im just disillusioned
Im a twentieth century man but I dont wanna be here.
My mama said she cant understand me
She cant see my motivation
Just give me some security,
Im a paranoid schizoid product of the twentieth century.
You keep all your smart modern writers
Give me william shakespeare
You keep all your smart modern painters
Ill take rembrandt, titian, da vinci and gainsborough,
Girl we gotta get out of here
We gotta find a solution

[...] Read more

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Alexander Pope

Imitations of Horace: The First Epistle of the Second Book

Ne Rubeam, Pingui donatus Munere
(Horace, Epistles II.i.267)
While you, great patron of mankind, sustain
The balanc'd world, and open all the main;
Your country, chief, in arms abroad defend,
At home, with morals, arts, and laws amend;
How shall the Muse, from such a monarch steal
An hour, and not defraud the public weal?
Edward and Henry, now the boast of fame,
And virtuous Alfred, a more sacred name,
After a life of gen'rous toils endur'd,
The Gaul subdu'd, or property secur'd,
Ambition humbled, mighty cities storm'd,
Or laws establish'd, and the world reform'd;
Clos'd their long glories with a sigh, to find
Th' unwilling gratitude of base mankind!
All human virtue, to its latest breath
Finds envy never conquer'd, but by death.
The great Alcides, ev'ry labour past,
Had still this monster to subdue at last.

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Sonnet On Famous And Familiar Sonnets And Experiences

(With much help from Robert Good, William Shakespeare,
John Milton, and little Catherine Schwartz)


Shall I compare her to a summer play?
She is too clever, too devious, too subtle, too dark:
Her lies are rare, but then she paves the way
Beyond the summer's sway, within the jejune park
Where all souls' aspiration to true nobility
Obliges Statues in the Frieze of Death
And when this pantomime and Panama of Panorama Fails,
"I'll never speak to you agayne" -- or waste her panting breath.

When I but think of how her years are spent
Deadening that one talent which -- for woman is --
Death or paralysis, denied: nature's intent
That each girl be a mother -- whether or not she is
Or has become a lawful wife or bride
-- 0 Alma Magna Mater, deathless the living death of pride.

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Great Grief

William's son, named Hamnet,
died in 1596,
aged just eleven and a half
when Will was thirty two.
Will's great grief
made greater grief
to compensate for loss.
It mixed a wild concoction,
made grieving man go mad.
Hamlet given no relief
relieved sad Shakespeare's grief.

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sms on 'Coriolanus

A petty turn turns foe to friend
And likewise friend to foe. (IV.iv - paraphrase)

Menenius Agrippa died- What time saved
Did I bid SPELL
Did not have SPELL bid me - (aside)
So Fiennes penned;
Lived on-penned Avon Bard.

Coriolanus fell by Shakespeare's pen
Not swinging wildly with Ralph's blade
But bladeless in cold blood.

With William writhing in his plot,
Scolding, 'What right to write such rot? ! '
And Ralph his endings firm defending-
Suicide and swordfight hot-
Let's leave the two with hope unending,

[...] Read more

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Edgar Lee Masters

The Spooniad

[The late Mr. Jonathan Swift Somers, laureate of Spoon River, planned The Spooniad as an epic in twenty-four books, but unfortunately did not live to complete even the first book. The fragment was found among his papers by William Marion Reedy and was for the first time published in Reedy's Mirror of December 18th, 1914.]


Of John Cabanis' wrath and of the strife
Of hostile parties, and his dire defeat
Who led the common people in the cause
Of freedom for Spoon River, and the fall
Of Rhodes' bank that brought unnumbered woes
And loss to many, with engendered hate
That flamed into the torch in Anarch hands
To burn the court-house, on whose blackened wreck
A fairer temple rose and Progress stood --
Sing, muse, that lit the Chian's face with smiles,
Who saw the ant-like Greeks and Trojans crawl
About Scamander, over walls, pursued
Or else pursuing, and the funeral pyres
And sacred hecatombs, and first because
Of Helen who with Paris fled to Troy
As soul-mate; and the wrath of Peleus' son,
Decreed to lose Chryseis, lovely spoil

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Edgar Lee Masters

William H. Herndon

There by the window in the old house
Perched on the bluff, overlooking miles of valley,
My days of labor closed, sitting out life's decline,
Day by day did I look in my memory,
As one who gazes in an enchantress' crystal globe,
And I saw the figures of the past,
As if in a pageant glassed by a shining dream,
Move through the incredible sphere of time.
And I saw a man arise from the soil like a fabled giant
And throw himself over a deathless destiny,
Master of great armies, head of the republic,
Bringing together into a dithyramb of recreative song
The epic hopes of a people;
At the same time Vulcan of sovereign fires,
Where imperishable shields and swords were beaten out
From spirits tempered in heaven.
Look in the crystal! See how he hastens on
To the place where his path comes up to the path
Of a child of Plutarch and Shakespeare.
O Lincoln, actor indeed, playing well your part,

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Unconditional Love

Unconditional love that is what
i have for you, i will trade my
life for yours, cos in you i feel and
touch happiness.whenever am
down you are there to lift me up.
Even though you far from me i
can see your light shine from
here, the strenght of our love is
like that of hurricane.
I have never doubt your love for
me.If any man break your lovely
heart remember that am here
for you, before going to bed i
sent a good night kiss, in the
morning i catch yours which
bless my day.'Cecilia Enyinwa'
you are the only love song i
know how to sing.with you by
my side, am sure i will do the
moon walk. When the sun

[...] Read more

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Who was William Shakespeare?

Surely G-D herself
On a short Sabbatical

Taking a break from
Divine forms of Inscription

(Makes one wonder, though
Who on earth was Verlaine?
Who in G-d's name was Rimbaud?)

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Africa (in reply to William Shakespeare)

This huge content of living things
where everything roams free
without any real sceptered kings
dividing where realms should be

who do not bow to the gods of Mars
but is nature’s own paradise
not locked by hedges, fences or bars
where flowers and animals daily rise

and a throng of strong happy men do their duty
being true to the ancestral calling
working on plains, in the veldt at places of great beauty
in a land where the blue sky has rain falling

where the sun, moon and stars are like visitors
to peoples braver and fiercer than any conquistadors.

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