By William Shakespeare
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.
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Happy Valentine's Day, or Lupercalia if you prefer! I have just spent way too long fighting with Google Docs and it's nearly midnight so I'm going to keep this short, not having anything exciting to say anyway. My day was mostly about chores, cats trying to chase squirrels off the deck (rather difficult since the squirrels were inside and the cats were outside), and a bit of pre-Valentine stuff.
Evening was more entertaining: we watched Hugh Jackman on Inside the Actors Studio (best line: "[Colm Wilkinson] is like a god to me," followed by a report of his glee when Wilkinson struggled with the low note on "I have saved your soul for God" and Hugh said, "Suck it, Colm"). Then we watched Nashville, which needs to pull back from the histrionics and give us more music. National Harbor this winter:
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