a walk in my stilettos


Just coming in to say..
June 14, 2008, 1:29 pm
Filed under: rantings, yo-ness.

P/S: I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LIFE!

won’t you love life too? :)
think about all those things that you thought you could only think but it really happened before you could look back and think. Oh wow, that’s like 3 ‘thinks’ in a sentence.

great souls,
碧璇 Aww…


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i wonder what brought about this sudden overflow of strong emotions.. but ya.. life´s good if we can all appreciate it for what wonders and challenges it has to offer.. :)

there´s this quote from shakespeare that i strongly believe in..

¨all the world´s a stage and all the men and women merely players..¨

so if that´s the case, shouldn´t we play our part /role well, to the best of our ability since before we realise it, it will all come full circle and by then what do we want to remember of it? and more importantly, what do we want people to remember us by? :)

life´s too precious for regret, ain´t it? :)

——–

All the world’s a stage (from As You Like It 2/7)

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

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