"Why is my verse so barren of new pride, So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside/ To new-found methods, and to compounds strange? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my name, Showing their birth, and where they did proceed? O, know sweet love I always write of you, And you and love are still my argument; So all my best is dressing old words new, Spending again what is already spent: For as the sun is daily new and old, So is my love still telling what is told."
- Sonnet 76
Dear Bill,
I feel a little bit better about the fact that I can't shake the same subject birthing my work thus far; I appreciate the encouragement. Many thanks and happy four-hundred and forty sixth birthday Sir- you are eternally relevant i.e. awesome.
With great respect and affection,
Karan
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