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As far as the laws of mathematics refer to reality, they are not
certain, as far as they are certain, they do not refer to reality.
--Albert Einstein

XXXIX



O! how thy worth with manners may I sing,

When thou art all the better part of me?

What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?

And what is\'t but mine own when I praise thee?

Even for this, let us divided live,

And our dear love lose name of single one,

That by this separation I may give

That due to thee which thou deserv\'st alone.

O absence! what a torment wouldst thou prove,

Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave,

To entertain the time with thoughts of love,

Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive, 

  And that thou teachest how to make one twain,

  By praising him here who doth hence remain.

 

XL



Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all;

What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?

No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call;

All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more.

Then, if for my love, thou my love receivest,

I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest;

But yet be blam\'d, if thou thy self deceivest

By wilful taste of what thyself refusest.

I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,

Although thou steal thee all my poverty:

And yet, love knows it is a greater grief

To bear greater wrong, than hate\'s known injury.

  Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,

  Kill me with spites yet we must not be foes.

 	--William Shakespeare

A people free to choose will always choose peace.
Ronald Reagan

VIII



Music to hear, why hear\'st thou music sadly?

Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy:

Why lov\'st thou that which thou receiv\'st not gladly,

Or else receiv\'st with pleasure thine annoy?

If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,

By unions married, do offend thine ear,

They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds

In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear. 

Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,

Strikes each in each by mutual ordering;

Resembling sire and child and happy mother,

Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing:

  Whose speechless song being many, seeming one,

  Sings this to thee: \'Thou single wilt prove none.\'



IX



Is it for fear to wet a widow\'s eye,

That thou consum\'st thy self in single life?

Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die,

The world will wail thee like a makeless wife;

The world will be thy widow and still weep

That thou no form of thee hast left behind,

When every private widow well may keep

By children\'s eyes, her husband\'s shape in mind:

Look! what an unthrift in the world doth spend

Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;

But beauty\'s waste hath in the world an end,

And kept unused the user so destroys it.

  No love toward others in that bosom sits

  That on himself such murd\'rous shame commits.

 	--William Shakespeare