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These forums are being phased out. The new, improved Carl Philipp Emanuel (C.P.E.) Bach (1714-1788) Forum is at classicalmusicforums.com.
The former post was deleted as it violated our user agreement, or it did not add to the "Classical Music & Art" conversation in a constructive manner.
The new Carl Philipp Emanuel (C.P.E.) Bach (1714-1788) Forum may be found at http://classicalmusicforums.com/forumdisplay.php?f=29 .
To foster quality discussion forums throughout Classicals.com, from now on only registered members may post. Spam will not be tolerated. If you would like to help moderate, please contact "jolly roger ship @ yahoo . com".
Please register at http://classicalmusicforums.com to post in the future.
We prefer deep reflections on Philosophy, Shakespearean Sonnets, and tender musings along the lines of:
CXXX My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red, than her lips red: If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound: I grant I never saw a goddess go,-- My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare, As any she belied with false compare. --William Shakespeare
Gravity cannot be held responsible for people falling in love. -- Albert Einstein
It is our continuing goal to foster the world's greatest converstation regarding all higher pursuits.
In the future, please register and make all posts to http://classicalmusicforums.com,
and/or join the forums at Great Books & Philosophy Forums @ jollyrogerwest.com.
If eyes were made for seeing, Then beauty is its own excuse for being. -Ralph Waldo Emerson
All The Best,
William Einstein Shakespeare :)
LV Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword, nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory. 'Gainst death, and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room Even in the eyes of all posterity That wear this world out to the ending doom. So, till the judgment that yourself arise, You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. --William Shakespeare