Tuesday, March 28, 2006
11:24 PM
I feel so like Count Orsino from Shakespear's Twelfth Night. Suffering from unrequited love and lovesickness...
"If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite that may sicken and so die.
That strain again! It had a dying fall.
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound
That breaths upon a bank of violets,
Stealing, and giving odour. Enough, no more!
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou,
That, not withstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe'er,
But falls into abatement and low price
Even in a minute. So full of shapes is fancy
That is alone is high fantastical."
She used to laugh at me when i recite this, and i wonder if she still does now. i still remember that time, when i first saw her laughing, and she really had that sweet and innocent smile, which i can never forget, and it was this smile, that got me ensnared.
im torn between
silence & violent expression
