Quotes Tagged "shakespeare"

Whatever happened to me in my life, happened to me as a writer of plays. I'd fall in love, or fall in lust. And at the height of my passion, I would think, 'So this is how it feels,' and I would tie it up in pretty words. I watched my life as if it were happening to someone else. My son died. And I was hurt, but I watched my hurt, and even relished it, a little, for now I could write a real death, a true loss. My heart was broken by my dark lady, and I wept, in my room, alone; but while I wept, somewhere inside I smiled. For I knew I could take my broken heart and place it on the stage of The Globe, and make the pit cry tears of their own.

I watched my life as if it were happening to someone else. My son died. And I was hurt, but I watched my hurt, and even relished it, a little, for now I could write a real death, a true loss. My heart was broken by my dark lady, and I wept, in my room, alone; but while I wept, somewhere inside I smiled.

Think of Shakespeare and Melville and you think of thunder, lightning, wind. They all knew the joy of creating in large or small forms, on unlimited or restricted canvases. These are the children of the gods.

Is it possible that the Pentateuch could not have been written by uninspired men? that the assistance of God was necessary to produce these books? Is it possible that Galilei ascertained the mechanical principles of 'Virtual Velocity,' the laws of falling bodies and of all motion; that Copernicus ascertained the true position of the earth and accounted for all celestial phenomena; that Kepler discovered his three laws—discoveries of such importance that the 8th of May, 1618, may be called the birth-day of modern science; that Newton gave to the world the Method of Fluxions, the Theory of Universal Gravitation, and the Decomposition of Light; that Euclid, Cavalieri, Descartes, and Leibniz, almost completed the science of mathematics; that all the discoveries in optics, hydrostatics, pneumatics and chemistry, the experiments, discoveries, and inventions of Galvani, Volta, Franklin and Morse, of Trevithick, Watt and Fulton and of all the pioneers of progress—that all this was accomplished by uninspired men, while the writer of the Pentateuch was directed and inspired by an infinite God? Is it possible that the codes of China, India, Egypt, Greece and Rome were made by man, and that the laws recorded in the Pentateuch were alone given by God? Is it possible that Æschylus and Shakespeare, Burns, and Beranger, Goethe and Schiller, and all the poets of the world, and all their wondrous tragedies and songs are but the work of men, while no intelligence except the infinite God could be the author of the Pentateuch? Is it possible that of all the books that crowd the libraries of the world, the books of science, fiction, history and song, that all save only one, have been produced by man? Is it possible that of all these, the bible only is the work of God?

One need not believe in Pallas Athena, the virgin goddess, to be overwhelmed by the Parthenon. Similarly, a man who rejects all dogmas, all theologies and all religious formulations of beliefs may still find Genesis the sublime book par excellence. Experiences and aspirations of which intimations may be found in Plato, Nietzsche, and Spinoza have found their most evocative expression in some sacred books. Since the Renaissance, Shakespeare, Rembrandt, Mozart, and a host of others have shown that this religious dimension can be experienced and communicated apart from any religious context. But that is no reason for closing my heart to Job's cry, or to Jeremiah's, or to the Second Isaiah. I do not read them as mere literature; rather, I read Sophocles and Shakespeare with all my being, too.

The fact is, we need prisons that are more like schools, and schools that are less like prisons. But for this to happen, the teachers also need freedom.

Love is holy.

Je vous ai ouï dire que l’honneur et la politique, comme deux amis inséparables, marchaient de compagnie à la guerre. Eh bien ! dites-moi quel tort l’un fait à l’autre dans la paix, pour qu’ils ne s’y trouvent pas également unis ?

I do believe, induced by potent circumstances That thou art mine enemy.

So I close this long reflection on what I hope is a not-too-quaveringly semi-Semitic note. When I am at home, I will only enter a synagogue for the bar or bat mitzvah of a friend's child, or in order to have a debate with the faithful. (When I was to be wed, I chose a rabbi named Robert Goldburg, an Einsteinian and a Shakespearean and a Spinozist, who had married Arthur Miller to Marilyn Monroe and had a copy of Marilyn’s conversion certificate. He conducted the ceremony in Victor and Annie Navasky's front room, with David Rieff and Steve Wasserman as my best of men.) I wanted to do something to acknowledge, and to knit up, the broken continuity between me and my German-Polish forebears. When I am traveling, I will stop at the shul if it is in a country where Jews are under threat, or dying out, or were once persecuted. This has taken me down queer and sad little side streets in Morocco and Tunisia and Eritrea and India, and in Damascus and Budapest and Prague and Istanbul, more than once to temples that have recently been desecrated by the new breed of racist Islamic gangster. (I have also had quite serious discussions, with Iraqi Kurdish friends, about the possibility of Jews genuinely returning in friendship to the places in northern Iraq from which they were once expelled.) I hate the idea that the dispossession of one people should be held hostage to the victimhood of another, as it is in the Middle East and as it was in Eastern Europe. But I find myself somehow assuming that Jewishness and 'normality' are in some profound way noncompatible. The most gracious thing said to me when I discovered my family secret was by Martin, who after a long evening of ironic reflection said quite simply: 'Hitch, I find that I am a little envious of you.' I choose to think that this proved, once again, his appreciation for the nuances of risk, uncertainty, ambivalence, and ambiguity. These happen to be the very things that 'security' and 'normality,' rather like the fantasy of salvation, cannot purchase.

Not for Fun, Why so Hilarious? [Part 2] If someone wants to laugh at you, you have every right to make fun of him; If someone wants to act with you, you have every right to play with his emotions; If someone wants to irritate you, you have every right to stress him; If someone wants to hate you, you have every right to date him; If someone wants to reject you, you have every right to make him hopeless; If someone wants to blackmail you, you have every right to piss him off; If someone wants to order you, you have every right to be disobedient to him; If someone wants to be hot with you, you have every right to boil him; If someone wants to fade you, you have every right to make him know his fate; If someone wants to betray you, you have every right to ill-treat him; If someone wants to crime you, you have every right to punish him; If someone wants to destroy you, you have every right to fight him; If someone wants to tease you, you have every right to make him know your punch; If someone wants to kick you, you have every right to make him kick your goal; If someone wants to hang you, you have every right to make him your bottleneck; If someone wants to show you his anger, you have every right to make him know your temperament; If someone wants you to be his slave, you have every right to make him serve you; ‘Indian Shakespeare

Not for Fun, Why so Hilarious? [Part 3] If someone wants you to be bad, you have every right to make him feel bad; If someone wants you to bend, you have every right to make him to take you a bow; If someone wants to lock you, you have every right to keep his key with you; If someone wants to shout at you, you have every right to slip your tongue with him; If someone wants to disbelief you, you have every right to cheat him; If someone wants to blop you, you have every right to make him clap for you; If someone wants to know your potent, you have every right to make him impotent; If someone wants to slap you, you have every right to make his mind block; If someone wants to make you weak, you have every right to pull him down; If someone wants to point at you, you have every right to cut his tail; If someone wants to define you, you have every right to refine him; If someone wants to enmity you, you have every right to make him die for you; If someone wants to threaten you, you have every right to disclose his secrets; If someone wants to play with your bad time, you have every right to make him as your comedy time; If someone wants to scold you, you have every right to talk with him in your mother slang; If someone wants to see your downfall, you have every right to fuck him off; If someone wants to kill you, you have every right to fix his funeral; Afterall, our life is full of air with a body full of hair …. !!! ‘Indian Shakespeare

Listen to the part of you that is made of the same stuff as stars, the same stuff as Shakespeare. That part knows for sure that you are special, that your life has a purpose greater than anything you can imagine. That's the part worth listening to.

When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white; When lofty trees I see barren of leaves Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer's green all girded up in sheaves Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard, Then of thy beauty do I question make, That thou among the wastes of time must go, Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake And die as fast as they see others grow; And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.

The poet after all belongs himself to an age and country. Shakespeare must attempt to present the universal in terms of Elizabethan England.

Man is a tempted being, living with what he does and suffers in time, the medium in which he realizes his potential character. The indeterminacy of time means that events never happen once and for all. The good may fall, the bad may repent, and suffering can be, not a simple retribution, but a triumph.

যদিও শেইক্সপীয়ার ও তাঁর লেখা তাঁর যুগে খুব বেশি মূল্য পায়নি, ‘সময়’ তাঁকে পরে তাঁর প্রাপ্য সম্মানটুকু ঠিকই দিয়েছে!

Though Shakespeare and his writings did not get much value during his age, ‘time’ has aptly given him his due respect later!

I believe in love at first sight, But I also believe in evolution. Love at first sight is real love, but it's an infant love. As love matures, we meet again and again, and discover new parts of our partners for the first time. I'd like to think that Rosalind and Orlando will cycle back to meet each other for the rest of their lives.

What’s in a name?‘ asks Shakespeare. ‘The love of the one calling it.‘ replies a lover.