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Started reading
February 24, 2025
Paris
Homeric Paris else Alexander, and the fall of Troy.
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;
Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife.
To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand; therefore, if thou art mov’d, thou run’st away.
Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues!
Down with Juliet! Down with Romeo!
But to himself so secret and so close,
Is the day so young?
Not having that which, having, makes them short.
Out of her favor where I am in love.
Here’s much to do with hate, but more with love.
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs, Being purg’d, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes, Being vex’d, a sea nourish’d with loving tears.
I have lost myself, I am not here: This is not Romeo, he’s some other where.
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.
O, she is rich in beauty, only poor That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store.
Floweriness of love, temporality, mundanimity of beauty.
She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair, To merit bliss by making me despair.
Be rul’d by me, forget to think of her.
O, teach me how I should forget to think.
My child is yet a stranger in the world,
naive
Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.
yeah, my own love is my hate; my own hate my love.
The valiant Paris seeks you for his love.
So shall you share all that he doth possess, By having him, making yourself no less.
women grow by men.
Being but heavy, I will bear the light.
I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,
If love be rough with you, be rough with love;
I dreamt a dream to-night.
That dreamers often lie.
True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain,
You are look’d for and call’d for, ask’d for and sought for, in the great chamber.
We cannot be here and there too.
Therefore be patient, take no note of him;
O dear account! my life is my foe’s debt.
My grave is like to be my wedding-bed. Nurse.
My only love sprung from my only hate!
Can I go forward when my heart is here?
Romeo! humors! madman! passion! lover! Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh!
Blind is his love and best befits the dark.
If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Classical question in search of love...
Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.
Desocietization let go of identity for love's sake.
’Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptiz’d; Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Because it is an enemy to thee;
My life were better ended by their hate, Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
By love, that first did prompt me to inquire; He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.
