Post by karimprov on Sept 14, 2017 6:45:37 GMT
I've talked about the need for harboring a few crazy ideas, lest you never consider anything unorthodox and miss out on the truth.
For truth is truth, though never so old, and time cannot make that false which was once true.
Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford (Letter to William Cecil, Lord Burghley, on 3 May 1603)
Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford (Letter to William Cecil, Lord Burghley, on 3 May 1603)
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
William Shakespeare, Sonnet 73
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
William Shakespeare, Sonnet 73
Mind, the traditional theory isn't iron-clad, either, but at least it has Shakespeare's name on the cover. The burden of proof is on everybody else.