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And worse I may be yet: the worst is not So long as we can say 'This is the worst.
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motivational
king-lear
worst
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William Shakespeare |
4d14171
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A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson, glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition.
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king-lear
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William Shakespeare |
c86d402
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We read the pagan sacred books with profit and delight. With myth and fable we are ever charmed, and find a pleasure in the endless repetition of the beautiful, poetic, and absurd. We find, in all these records of the past, philosophies and dreams, and efforts stained with tears, of great and tender souls who tried to pierce the mystery of life and death, to answer the eternal questions of the Whence and Whither, and vainly sought to make, with bits of shattered glass, a mirror that would, in very truth, reflect the face and form of Nature's perfect self. These myths were born of hopes, and fears, and tears, and smiles, and they were touched and colored by all there is of joy and grief between the rosy dawn of birth, and death's sad night. They clothed even the stars with passion, and gave to gods the faults and frailties of the sons of men. In them, the winds and waves were music, and all the lakes, and streams, and springs,--the mountains, woods and perfumed dells were haunted by a thousand fairy forms. They thrilled the veins of Spring with tremulous desire; made tawny Summer's billowed breast the throne and home of love; filled Autumns arms with sun-kissed grapes, and gathered sheaves; and pictured Winter as a weak old king who felt, like Lear upon his withered face, Cordelia's tears. These myths, though false, are beautiful, and have for many ages and in countless ways, enriched the heart and kindled thought. But if the world were taught that all these things are true and all inspired of God, and that eternal punishment will be the lot of him who dares deny or doubt, the sweetest myth of all the Fable World would lose its beauty, and become a scorned and hateful thing to every brave and thoughtful man.
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winter
perfection
shakespeare
true
grief
doubt
passion
nature
joy
fear
past
death
dreams
music
hope
life
love
truth
hateful
philosophies
religion-myths
scorn
sacred-books
brave
tender
fairy
haunted
pagan
king-lear
spring
woods
fable
poetic
mountains
lake
birth
smiles
deny
eternity
autumn
punishment
gods
effort
tears
questions
mystery
beautiful
throne
summer
thought
delight
william-shakespeare
pleasure
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Robert G. Ingersoll |
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I have often noticed that we are inclined to endow our friends with the stability of type that literary characters acquire in the reader's mind. No matter how many times we reopen 'King Lear,' never shall we find the good king banging his tankard in high revelry, all woes forgotten, at a jolly reunion with all three daughters and their lapdogs. Never will Emma rally, revived by the sympathetic salts in Flaubert's father's timely tear. Whatever evolution this or that popular character has gone through between the book covers, his fate is fixed in our minds, and, similarly, we expect our friends to follow this or that logical and conventional pattern we have fixed for them.
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fate
shakespeare
literature
friends
literary-references
lolita
vladimir-nabokov
emma-bovary
madame-bovary
gustave-flaubert
king-lear
expectations
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Vladimir Nabokov |
b1760da
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The leafless trees, with their black branches stretched hysterically in every direction, looked to him like illustrations of a central nervous system racked by disease: studies of human suffering anatomized against the winter sky.
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shakespeare
anatomy
dunbar
king-lear
nervous-system
shakespeare-like
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Edward St. Aubyn |
10c4fd9
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"I gave you all!" screeched Lear, waving a palsied claw at Regan. "And you took your bloody time giving it, too, you senile old fuck," said Regan."
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shakespeare
humor
king-lear
paraphrased
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Christopher Moore |