The following was written using quotes from SHAKESPEARE (and/or other famous writers), mixed by me, using as few of my own words as possible, to create the following story…
My Dear Goddess,
I have been in such misery since I last saw you. I thought I was gone forever in the dark backward and abysm of time. My ending was despair. Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt. They play such fantastic tricks before high heaven as makes the angels weep. O, what man hide within him, though angel on the outward? The cunning livery of hell? What? My dear Lady Disdain, are you yet living? We may pity though not pardon thee. Thou art the mars of malcontents.
The devil can site scriptures for his purpose. O, what authority and show of truth can cunning sin cover itself with? This is fairy gold out of the jaws of death. One sees more devils than vast hell can hold. He that dies pays all debts and when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again. O, withered is the garland of the war! The soldier’s pole is fallen, the huge army of the world’s desires. The sense of pain is most in apprehension and the poor beetle that we tread upon in corporal sufferance finds a pang as great as when a giant dies, but earthlier happy is the rose distilled than that which withering on the virgin thorn grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. Affliction may one day smile again and ‘til then, sit thee down my sorrow. They are as sick who surfeit with too much as those who starve with nothing. What we have we prize not to the worth while we enjoy it, but being lacked and lost, why then we rack the value, then we find the virtue that possession would not show us while it was ours. We pay a great deal too dear for what is given freely.
Heaven lay not transgression to my charge. Some rise by sin and others by virtue fall. Let every eye negotiate and trust no agent. A breath thou art, servile to all skyeye influences. The miserable have no other medicine but only hope. No man can counsel and speak comfort to that grief which they themselves do not feel. Everyone can master a grief but he that has it.
The jury passing on the prisoner’s life, may in the sworn twelve, have a thief or two guiltier than him they try. The judge’s robes do not become them one-half so good a grace as mercy does. How would it be if he, which is at the top of judgement, should but judge you as you are? O, it is excellent to have a giant’s strength but it is tyrannous to use it as a giant.
Dispense with trifles, we burn daylight.
Out of my lean and low ability, I’ll lend you something. What’s gone and what’s past help should be past grief. A merry heart goes all day but your sad tires in a mile. What you do still betters what is done. Let me have no lying. It becomes none but tradesmen. Virtue is bold and goodness never fearful. Truth is truth to the end of reckoning.
Full fathoms five thy father lies. His bones are coral made. Those are pearls that were his eyes. Nothing of him that doth fade but doth suffer a sea change into something rich and strange. And if his name be George, I’ll call him Peter for new made honor doth forget men’s names. I will instruct my sorrow to be proud for grief is proud and makes his owner stoop. Yet should there hover in their restless heads one thought, one grace, one wonder at least, which into words no virtue can digest, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated to closeness and the bettering of my mind, merrily, merrily, shall I live now under the blossom that hangs on the bough. O, brave new world that has such people in it. Let us not burden our rememberances with a heaviness that’s gone.
Sits the wind in that corner? The wind of change? They say best men are molded out of faults and for the most part become more the better for being a little bad. Happy are they that hear their detractions and put them to mending. Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.
Every why has a wherefore.
Mother Earth was ever precise in promise keeping. Lady, I hold you as a thing enskyed and sainted. There was a star danced and under that star, I was born. I have been granted a hazard of new fortunes to unpathed waters, undreamed shores. For you in my respect are all the world. Then how can it be said that I am alone?