My first post.. couldn't have been anything else but a homage to the greatest man who ever held a pen in his hand... I start with the few lines which i've been in love with since that fateful day in school when our 7th (or was it 8th) standard form teacher asked me to play the role of the Duke in the Skit that our class was supposed to perform on Teacher's Day... the rest as they say is History...
If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite 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 breathes 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, notwithstanding 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 it alone is high fantastical.
Twelfth Night | Act I, Scene I (William Shakespeare)
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