Lear, Macbeth. Mercutio - they live on their own as it were. The newspapers are full of them, if we were only the Shakespeares to see it. Have you ever been in a Police Court? Have you ever watched tradesmen behind their counters? My soul, the secrets walking in the streets! You jostle them at every corner. There's a Polonius in every first-class railway carriage, and as many Juliets as there are boarding-schools... How inexhaustibly rich everything is, if you only stick to life.
Walter de la Mare
Lear, Macbeth. Mercutio "" they live on their own as it were. The newspapers are full of them, if we were only the Shakespeares to see it. Have you ever been in a Police Court? Have you ever watched tradesmen behind their counters? My soul, the secrets walking in the streets! You jostle them at every corner. There's a Polonius in every first-class railway carriage, and as many Juliets as there are boarding-schools. ... How inexhaustibly rich everything is, if you only stick to life.
Walter de La Mare
There would therefore have been all the more delight at the birth of the first son William within less than a year of Margaret's death, tinged with more than a little anxiety, in view of the fateful words hic incepit pestis, 'here began plague', in the burial part of the register three months later. Just how close this dread flea-borne disease was to the Shakespeares can be guaged from the fact that their Henley Street neighbour Roger Green lost four of his children and town clerk Richard Symons three. One estimate suggests that the town lost around two hundred, or about fifteen per cent, of its population during this single outbreak. It is a sobering thought how much the world could have lost at this time by one ill-chanced flea-bite.
Et av mine yndlingssteder i palasset var det kjempestore biblioteket som inneholdt uvurderlige fe¸rsteutgaver skrevet av bere¸mte forfattere verden over. Glasskapene der be¸kene sto, var alltid le¥st, de var bare en imponerende prydgjenstand, enda en utsmykning, og jeg tvilte pe¥ at noen av be¸kene noen gang var blitt tatt ned og lest i le¸pet av alle de e¥rene de hadde ste¥tt der. Jeg pleide ofte e¥ granske hyllene der, og fingrene mine kle¸dde etter e¥ ta frem en bok og holde i den. Jeg me¥tte ne¸ye meg med de medtatte eksemplarene av Stormfulle he¸yder, Oliver Twist og Shakespeares Hamlet som den engelske privatle¦reren hadde hatt med seg fra England. Gjennom de lange, fredelige ettermiddagene leste jeg dem om og om igjen.