Throughout my home there lies a trail of books and amongst them you will find at least one book of
Shakespeare every seven steps.
I was a very lucky child being brought up on a diet of his matchless tales,
A neat fact:
I had no idea at the time but as i recall, he was pretty damn good.
I was genuinely dismayed when Tennant performed his last and fatal act as Romeo.
Isn't that just the most frustrating moment?
If he'd only taken some time to get a little more information or she'd woken a few seconds later.
If, if, if, if, if.
Frustrating.
But this is why it remains one of the greatest stories ever told.
I remember being infuriated by my 1st year high school English teacher robbing me of the
last six lines of the play when we were reading it aloud in class.
I wanted to throw my book at his head.
Repeatedly.
Those lines are flawless and i'd worked out days before that i would get to say them.
That bastard.
See, still bitter.
Anyhow.
Within this book there's a passage in reference to teenagers, the 'blazing youth' he called them:
Shakespeare created this category of humanity, which now seems as organic to us as the spring. In place of nostalgia and loathing, Shakespeare would have us look at teenagers in a spirit of wonder, even the spotty ones and the awkward ones and the wild ones. They're us before they fall into categories: not children, not adults, not monsters, not saints. They're beautiful because they do not fit. They're too much themselves and not enough.
It is hers after all.
For Christmas, i was spoiled rotten with books.
It was great.
It's everything i want a book to be.
Beautiful detailing on the binding, marble paper lining the inside, gold edged pages and of course, a bookmark made of ribbon.
It even smells awesome.
If you tell me you've never sniffed a book and not longed for charming, old libraries then i don't believe you're real.
Not one bit.
Get thee back, non-book lovers.
Here's a look at my edition of the Bard's legacy:
Today.
It's really rather hurtful when you're on the receiving end.
Have a try, you beslubbering, clapper-clawed, flap-dragons.
Fare thee well.
Listening to: Conduits 'Last Dirge'
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