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Showing posts from March, 2021

Brevity is the soul of wit

Alright, confession time: I love it when my sense of humor is praised. Making people laugh is one of the best feelings in the world, and I am constantly trying to become more funny. For this reason, I stopped short when I read the following words: "brevity is the soul of wit" ( Hamlet,  2.2.97). This is funny because Polonius, the speaker of these words, is not someone whose speeches would be described as concise or brief. However, I think that while we sometimes characterize Polonius as a sort of villain in Hamlet , we also know that he also gives good advice, proven by the fact that his "to thine own self be true" phrase is a frequently-echoed piece of advice today. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how true this idea is. The funniest jokes are not usually lengthy or drawn-out. Rather, it is the perfectly-phrased, short-phrased expressions that really cause us to laugh. How fascinating is it that we can even learn how to be more funny from Shakespea...

But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue

 Something I have realized lately is that grief makes for really good poetry. Having someone to love is good, and we may want to occasionally express our feelings poetically, but it is when that love is taken away that we suddenly find ourselves needing an outlet for this love that does not know where to go. Perhaps this is why Hamlet has so many soliloquies throughout the play; his anguish over losing his father consumes him, and he has a real need to express it. One line from Hamlet that I found particularly poetic was, "But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue" ( Hamlet , 1.2.164). Hamlet serves as yet another demonstration of impossible love in Shakespeare's works. Although he is filled with love for his father, Hamlet is unable to do anything with this love,  because his father is dead, and so his heart breaks, like a dam that is destroyed by an overflow of water. This expression of having to hold his tongue stings as a stunning reminder of grief to those who h...

Give every man thy ear

It always fascinates me when the characters we are supposed to think of as the villains says something that is relatable or thought-provoking. Such an instance comes when Polonius is talking to Laertes, and he instructs him, "Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice/Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgement." First of all, a disclaimer: I am a firm believer in standing up for what you believe in. Sitting quietly and allowing others to get away with promoting lies or false ideas is not a life motto I would ever want to live by. However, the reason this quote stuck out to me is because I found it to be a good explanation for why introverts are so quiet. Introverts are not  quiet because they have nothing to say. Rather, I think that introverts are often quiet because they prefer to listen, see, and analyze, and talking or making too big a deal out of oneself gets in the way of doing so. I think that when we choose to give people our full attention and really liste...

Stars with trains of fire

While reading Hamlet , I came across these peculiar lines: "As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,/Disasters in the sun" (Hamlet, 1.1.129-30). Of course, I immediately turned to the footnotes of my book to understand what was meant by this phrase, and I was met with this note: "these lines are awkward; probably some text has been lost." Call me crazy for crying over the footnotes of a book, but something about this just struck me. These words penned by Shakespeare about stars with trains of fire absolutely captivated me; I found them very beautiful. But we do not understand their meaning and they have been given the label "awkward." I think this is a suitable way to look at people. We are often very quick to judge others, to classify them based on what we see, but we forget that we do not have the whole story. People often carry so much more than what we see. I often forget everyone else's lives are just as complicated as mine, that others hid...

A friend like thee

While Twelfth Night  is full of humor, lying, and confusion, it is also full of friendship, and I like to imagine that Olivia and Viola went on to become very good friends. On one such occasion, Olivia remarks on the goodness of Viola's friendship: "A friend like thee might bear my soul to hell" (Twelfth Night, 3.4.226). This statement of trust made me smile when I read it, because it made me think of the people in my life who are so loyal and good. Often, I don't show enough appreciation for these people. When I reflect on life's ups and downs, I see that what makes life not only bearable, but even wonderful, are the people that surround me with love, laughter, and joy. When school, work, health issues, and social struggles threaten to put me down, they are never able to do so for long because of the people  in my life that reach out and lift me up. This phrase by Olivia made me remember the importance of expressing my admiration for others. People need to know t...

Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway

After being attacked by Andrew and Toby, Sebastian is reasonably confused and angry, but Olivia, stepping in to stop the conflict, offers Sebastian some wise advice: "Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway/In this uncivil and unjust extent/Against thy peace" (Twelfth Night, 4.2.55-57). Something that has been on my mind a lot recently is thinking before I speak. Strong emotion can bring us to strong words that we often regret later when the emotion has left but the sting of the words remain. And beyond applying to intense, anger-driven situations, I think this idea of allowing wisdom to guide us also has implications for everyday conversation. Often, I become a casual listener to people, and I easily respond with, "oh wow" or "haha that's awesome" without really considering what someone has just told me. In other words, Olivia's words here have reminded me to refocus myself while I'm interacting others. If something annoys or irritates me, ...

None can be called deformed but the unkind

At a moment when he believes he has been betrayed, Antonio makes a profound statement: "In nature there's no blemish but the unkind; None can be called deformed but the unkind" (Twelfth Night, 3.4.386-87). I've been thinking about beauty a lot lately. Last night, me and my roommates watched the movie Wonder, and I was reminded how much I love the message of that story. Even though the other children are somewhat scared of August's face when they first see him, those that give him a chance and actually talk to him find that August Pullman is a funny, nice person, completely normal and the same as everyone else on the inside. By the end of the story, Jack Will, Summer, nor any of the other kids who got to know Auggie would call him "deformed," because they have gotten to see who he really is. I frequently become way too concerned with how I look. I get annoyed at my nose for being unattractive or my hips for being too wide, and I fall into this trap of thi...

I can no other answer make but thanks

 My favorite character in Twelfth Night  is Antonio. We could go really deep into who Antonio really is or what he adds to the play, but when it comes down to it, what I really love is that Antonio is kind . His actions throughout the play are motivated purely out of love, and he performs them so selflessly. At one point, Antonio gives Sebastian his money, and Sebastian is blown away by his kindness. "My kind Antonio," he says, "I can no other answer make but thanks/And thanks, and ever thanks; and oft good turns/are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay" ( Twelfth Night, 3.3.14-18). I was recently shown a tremendous act of kindness by a friend who painted me a picture because she knows I've been struggling with some things. As I cried over this painting and the love that was put into it, I thought of this moment between Antonio and Sebastian, and I realized that I had nothing to give my friend but thanks. Such an act of kindness is truly invaluable, and as much...

Much in our vows

Under the guise of a man, Viola has a very interesting conversation with Orsino about love. Orsino believes that women cannot love to the same extent that men can, but Viola disagrees, claiming that as men, they prove "much in our vows but little in our love" (Twelfth Night, 2.4.130). I think this phrase can actually be applied to many of us, male and female; too often we are fair-weather friends, or we love only in word and not in deed. Lately I've been realizing just how much people need  friends and family. It isn't just nice  to have somebody to spend weekend nights with, or nice  to have people to come home to, it's absolutely necessary. For that reason, it is absolutely necessary to be a true friend. Saying that you are a friend and actually being one are two different things, and it is essential to be the latter rather than the former. Making someone believe you are their friend, and then not caring enough to truly commit to loving that person and being the...

Was not this love indeed?

So many of Shakespeare's wonderful expressions center around love, and I think that's because love is something that every poet, writer, and regular human being is trying to understand. One such phrase that I came across was when Viola was describing her love for Orsino, though under the guise that she was describing a friend's love. Says Viola, "She sat like Patience on a monument/smiling at grief/Was not this love indeed?" (Twelfth Night, 2.4.127). Some might argue that no, this isn't love. Smiling at grief? Being happy despite experiencing unrequited love? That's not real love. But I stand by Shakespeare on this and say that yes, this is in fact real love. Viola's words describe the fact that yes, she is grieving at the fact that her love is unreturned, but  she is happy that she even gets the chance to love. Perhaps Shakespeare is trying to teach us that real love does not require anything in return. Real love gives everything it's got, and if ...

How dost thou like this tune?

 As Orsino is conversing with Viola, some music begins playing, and Orsino asks Viola, "How dost thou like this tune?" to which she responds, "It gives a very echo to the seat/where love is throned" (Twelfth Night, 2.4.22-24). After using the Folger notes to help me understand what Viola's response meant, I fell in love with this exchange between Viola and Orsino. Here, Viola is saying that the music is like an echo of a lover's heart - as if someone had taken a lover's emotions and turned them into sound. I think this is an excellent way to describe music, and the reason humans are so passionate about music. Expressing ourselves is not always easy; how does one find the words to describe the pain of a heartbreak or the wonder of feeling on top of the world or the emptiness that comes from losing a loved one? This isn't always easy to put into words. But through music we are able to put these complicated emotions into a new form which enables us to s...

A willow cabin at your gate

As Viola is describing Orsino's love to Olivia, she says something that I found very profound: "Make me a willow cabin at your gate" (Twelfth Night, 1.5.271). Viola goes on, describing how Orsino will do anything for Olivia, but the part that captivated me most about her speech was this first line. I often hear the phrase "guarded heart," and I think that to some extent, everybody has a guarded heart. We do not allow people to see everything that is in our hearts, especially upon first meeting others. It takes time for us to open up and allow people to see who we really are, what we treasure, what makes us tick, what makes us human; what is in our hearts. And here, Viola is telling Olivia that Orsino would like Olivia to make him a willow cabin at her gate. Of course, there are many possible interpretations of this phrase, but I like to think about it as the gate to one's heart, because I think that's an excellent way to describe love. Love is allowing s...