Haven’t read his writings for a while. But in my sudden despair I googled it automatically. Like second nature to me.
Those twisted poetic spoke to my soul like no other. Storing some strength within this broken soul. What strength beckons me right now I wonder. Is hope such in this day and age. Should belief and faith come in between destiny? Does such destiny exist?
A snippet from my favourite :
“Puppet? why so? ay, that way goes the game.
Now I perceive that she hath made compare
Between our statures; she hath urged her height;
And with her personage, her tall personage,
Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail’d with him.
And are you grown so high in his esteem;
Because I am so dwarfish and so low?
How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak;
How low am I? I am not yet so low
But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes”