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Anything in any way beautiful derives its beauty from itself, and asks nothing beyond itself. Praise is
no part of it, for nothing is made worse or better by praise. -Marcus Aurelius, Mediations (2nd C.),
4.20, TR. Maxwell Staniforth

LXXV



So are you to my thoughts as food to life,

Or as sweet-season\'d showers are to the ground;

And for the peace of you I hold such strife

As \'twixt a miser and his wealth is found.

Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon

Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure;

Now counting best to be with you alone,

Then better\'d that the world may see my pleasure:

Sometime all full with feasting on your sight,

And by and by clean starved for a look;

Possessing or pursuing no delight,

Save what is had, or must from you be took.

  Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,

  Or gluttoning on all, or all away.

 	--William Shakespeare

XXVI



Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage

Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,

To thee I send this written embassage,

To witness duty, not to show my wit:

Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine

May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it,

But that I hope some good conceit of thine

In thy soul\'s thought, all naked, will bestow it:

Till whatsoever star that guides my moving,

Points on me graciously with fair aspect,

And puts apparel on my tatter\'d loving,

To show me worthy of thy sweet respect:

  Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee;

  Till then, not show my head where thou mayst prove me.

 	--William Shakespeare

I never paint dreams or nightmares. I paint my own reality.
Frida Kahlo