I found my son's page of homework and was entranced.
Shakespeare Sonnet No. 94
They that have power to hurt and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow--
They rightly do inherit Heaven's graces,
And husband Nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their excellence.
The summer flow'r is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity.
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds:
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
It reminds me somewhat of the writings of St. Paul who wrote in Romans 7:15 What I do, I do not understand. For I do not do what I want, but I do what I hate...
I want the Easter lilies to last as long as possible. The life of flowers is fleeting. I guess you could say that about life sometimes. I'm feeling like the bloom has left the peach lately. The department store lighting at the make-up counter did not do my face any justice last week. I could see all the wrinkles in detail, which was magnified by the horrible department store lighting. I need to face this aging thing. There is no other alternative on earth.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)