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Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck;
And yet methinks I have astronomy,
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons’ quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well,
By oft predict that I in heaven find:
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars, in them I read such art

Shakespeare, sonnet 14th


Autumn boasted it arrival, just as Fall did.
The stars in the night lost its hope.

The leaves grew colorful but old.
The eyes shed all its tears.

As the span took its toll.

Categories: Expression
  1. September 30, 2008 at 2:29 am

    And…with deathly fall life gets hallowed in cold silence…and, Minos chase it long from the Cretes…and Icarus would rise again, spread his wings on hopes of another fall !
    Loved to read you again after long time.
    Best wishes,

  2. September 30, 2008 at 1:27 pm

    Let Icarus spread it wings again and soar the heights with caution…

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