"O hell! what have we here? A carrion Death, within whose empty eye There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing. [Reads] All that glitters is not gold; Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms enfold. Had you been as wise as bold, Young in limbs, in judgment old, Your answer had not been inscroll'd: Fare you well; your suit is cold. Cold, indeed; and labour lost: Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost! Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart To take a tedious leave: thus losers part."
This blog is deferred to my familiar, however, academic endeavors may be explored here...
J
3 comments:
Jess: I am interested to read your thoughts about the novel. However, what you have hear does not seem to connect. Write your posts out more thoroughly to make those connections and explore them with your writing.
Good luck.
Genius takes time, Miller.
Time.
It does, It does.
And like the fictitious Big Brother (but in a more nurturing teacher as supportive adult way), I will be watching...
Keep writing.
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