|
|
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:
I never can feel certain of any truth but from a clear perception of its Beauty. -John Keats
XXV Let those who are in favour with their stars Of public honour and proud titles boast, Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most. Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread But as the marigold at the sun's eye, And in themselves their pride lies buried, For at a frown they in their glory die. The painful warrior famoused for fight, After a thousand victories once foil'd, Is from the book of honour razed quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd: Then happy I, that love and am belov'd, Where I may not remove nor be remov'd. --William Shakespeare
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.
XCIX The forward violet thus did I chide: Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, If not from my love's breath? The purple pride Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dy'd. The lily I condemned for thy hand, And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair; The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, One blushing shame, another white despair; A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both, And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath; But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth A vengeful canker eat him up to death. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see, But sweet, or colour it had stol'n from thee. --William Shakespeare
All The Best,
William Einstein Shakespeare :)
Equations are more important to me, because politics is for the present, but an equation is something for eternity. --Albert Einstein