Remixing Sonnets

we desire increase, 

there might never die, 

 but by time decease, 

might bear his memory; to your own bright eyes.

sweet self too cruel

a famine where abundance lies. 

Bury this

   To eat the world by the grave.

——

Sonnet 20

William Shakespeare

From fairest creatures we desire increase, 

That thereby beauty’s rose might never die, 

But as the riper should by time decease, 

His tender heir might bear his memory; 

But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, 

Feed’st thy light’s flame with self-substantial fuel, 

Making a famine where abundance lies, 

Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. 

Thou that art now the world’s fresh ornament 

And only herald to the gaudy spring, 

Within thine own bud buriest thy content, 

And, tender churl, mak’st waste in niggarding. 

   Pity the world, or else this glutton be, 

   To eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee.

—-

painted, 

master mistress;

A gentle heart unacquainted 

with shifting change, as is false fashion: 

rolling eyes more bright than theirs

Gilding a man in hue 

all hues controlling, 

men’s eyes and women’s souls. 

And for a woman first created; 

me of them defeated, 

By adding one thing to my purpose-

nothing. 

—-

Sonnet 20

William Shakespeare

painted, 

Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion; 

A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted 

With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion: 

An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, 

Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; 

A man in hue all hues in his controlling, 

Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth. 

And for a woman wert thou first created; 

Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, 

And by addition me of thee defeated, 

By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. 

   But since she prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure, 

   Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure.

—

earth’s mortality boundlesses his power, 

with this rage beauty is no stronger than a flower? 

Your battering breath sieges against the days

Impregnable gaze of steel fearful time decays? 

The best jewel from your chest lie hid

 What strong hand hold can forbid? 

 this miracle have might, 

 black-inking my love shine bright.

——-

Sonnet 65

William Shakespeare

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, 

But sad mortality o’ersways their power, 

How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, 

Whose action is no stronger than a flower? 

O! how shall summer’s honey breath hold out, 

Against the wrackful siege of battering days, 

When rocks impregnable are not so stout, 

Nor gates of steel so strong but Time decays? 

O fearful meditation! where, alack, 

Shall Time’s best jewel from Time’s chest lie hid? 

Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back? 

Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid? 

   O! none, unless this miracle have might, 

   That in black ink my love may still shine bright. 

—-

This is from ANNA KARENINA:

He did not want to deprive himself of the illusion that there could be anything good anywhere without her.

However happy one may be, one still regrets one’s freedom.

There’s such chaos in my heart now that I couldn’t find anything there, I’ll wait till I sort things out, then I’ll find it.

I’ll be glad precisely of this loss of freedom.

Freedom? Why freedom? Happiness is only in loving and desiring, thinking her desires, her thoughts.

But do I know her thoughts, her desires, her feelings?

I’ll go to her, ask her, tell her for the last time: we’re free, hadn’t we better stop?

~

“I’m suffering! I can’t suffer alone” He already saw by her loving, truthful face that nothing could come of what he intended to say, but all the same he needed her reassurance. “I can’t help thinking… that I’m not worthy of you. Think better of it”

‘I don’t understand…You’re out of your mind!’ she cried, flushing with vexation.