You just have to stop letting them control you. It gives your mind the break it is screaming out for, to allow it to rest, heal and return to factory settings, which is a calm and relaxed you. All the over thinking and over analysing you do is what keeps you trapped within the cycle of anxiety.
Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou growest; So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
|My Thoughts on "My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun" Essay Example | Graduateway||Still, I didn't really see what had driven them apart so quickly and so thoroughly that they never even spoke any more.|
|Ties and Denied….||When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, When I've fallen out of favor with fortune and men, I all alone beweep my outcast state All alone I weep over my position as a social outcast, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And pray to heaven, but my cries go unheard, And look upon myself and curse my fate, And I look at myself, cursing my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Wishing I were like one who had more hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, Wishing I looked like him; wishing I were surrounded by friends, Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, Wishing I had this man's skill and that man's freedom. With what I most enjoy contented least; I am least contented with what I used to enjoy most.|
|Princess Madeira Darling||She was in the news in March when it was reported that she had an affair with George Anthony.|
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee,--and then my state Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings'.
Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long-since cancell'd woe, And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as My thoughts on my mistress eyes not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restor'd, and sorrows end. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory.
So, till the judgment that yourself arise, You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth from the west; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire, That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the deathbed whereon it must expire, Consumed by that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long. The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? And for that riches where is my deserving? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving. Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not knowing, Or me, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaking; So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, Comes home again, on better judgment making.
Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter, In sleep a king, but waking no such matter. The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, Though to itself it only live and die, But if that flower with base infection meet, The basest weed outbraves his dignity: For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, If not from my love's breath? The purple pride Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.
More flowers I noted, yet I none could see But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no; it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error, and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.
Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; A bliss in proof,--and prov'd, a very woe; Before, a joy propos'd; behind, a dream: All this the world well knows; yet none knows well To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak,--yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go, My mistress when she walks, treads on the ground; And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.
The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill. To win me soon to hell, my female evil Tempteth my better angel from my side, And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend, Suspect I may, yet not directly tell; But being both from me, both to each friend, I guess one angel in another's hell: Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was used in giving gentle doom, And taught it thus anew to greet. And saved my life, saying "not you.While William Shakespeare’s reputation is based primarily on his plays, he became famous first as a poet.
With the partial exception of the Sonnets (), quarried since the early 19th century for autobiographical secrets allegedly encoded in them, the nondramatic writings have traditionally been pushed. This entry was a long time coming. In my original post on this subject, The Interracial Phenomenon (found here), I felt I did a pretty good job of conveying my thoughts.
George’s Alledged Mistress Krystal Holloway: My Thoughts June 23, / in Uncategorized / by Eyes for Lies George Anthony’s alleged mistress, Krystal Holloway, aka “River Cruz”, is quite an interesting person to analyze. Thank you so much, the constant worrying over the last 9 months has affected my health so much.
The stressing, worrying and over thinking has driven me to distraction and not allowed me to enjoy life, in fact my life has been on hold for the last 12 months.
“My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun,” he begins, in grandiose tones. Prouvaire laughs softly. He kisses the inside of Grantaire’s thigh – light, and almost chaste.
Note: Thanks to wrc for beta reading this! Clint Elliston. I had my queen and my concubine perched on my naked thighs, both girls nude, their pussies hot and juicy on my flesh as they squirmed, their arms around my neck, and their breasts thrust right into my face.