Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…

Prose Transference

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I worry that pretty much the only reading I get done is when I’m on a train, or waiting for a concert to start.  There was a time, back in the primordial age, when I used to read almost exclusively at home.  Which is to say that this plan of mine (unvoiced ’til now) to read the Austens in a relatively quick fashion, is sputtering a tad.

Did a bit of browsing of Hamlet today.  Thoroughly depressing thing to do, when one is writing.

He says to Gertrude, confronting her after killing Polonius: “You cannot call it love, for at your age/The heyday in the blood is tame, it’s humble,/And waits upon the judgement: and what judgement/Would step from this to this?”

That always strikes me as false, this bit about love relying on judgement in old age.  Perhaps I’m wrong.  Not that I can tell if Shakespeare was meaning Hamlet to be correct or not in that situation.


Written by epistemysics

September 1, 2013 at 3:32 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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