The upgraded Johann Christian (J.C.) Bach (1735-1782) Forum is at classicalmusicforums.com.
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These forums are being phased out. The new, improved Johann Christian (J.C.) Bach (1735-1782) Forum is at classicalmusicforums.com.

Ahoy fellow travelers and Great Books lovers!

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 Johann Christian (J.C.) Bach (1735-1782) Forum may be found at http://classicalmusicforums.com/forumdisplay.php?f=31 .

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We prefer deep reflections on Philosophy, Shakespearean Sonnets, and tender musings along the lines of:

CXX

That you were once unkind befriends me now,
And for that sorrow, which I then did feel,
Needs must I under my transgression bow,
Unless my nerves were brass or hammer'd steel.
For if you were by my unkindness shaken,
As I by yours, you've pass'd a hell of time;
And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken
To weigh how once I suffer'd in your crime.
O! that our night of woe might have remember'd
My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits,
And soon to you, as you to me, then tender'd
The humble salve, which wounded bosoms fits!
  But that your trespass now becomes a fee;
  Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.
 	--William Shakespeare

Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one. --Albert Einstein

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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.

Teaching should be such that what is offered is perceived as a valuable gift and not as a hard duty. -- Albert Einstein

All The Best,

William Einstein Shakespeare :)

VII

Lo! in the orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,
Serving with looks his sacred majesty; 
And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill,
Resembling strong youth in his middle age,
Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,
Attending on his golden pilgrimage:
But when from highmost pitch, with weary car,
Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day,
The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are
From his low tract, and look another way:
  So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon:
  Unlook'd, on diest unless thou get a son.
 	--William Shakespeare