Tootfinder

Sonnet 008 - 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 …

Today was a nice day

• I got a 10 out of 10 on my Physics test (relativity)
• I made some tasty desserts (I’ll post some pics tomorrow, the ice cream wasn’t entirely frozen yet today so the pic wasn’t pretty)
• WITCHER 4 WITH CIRI!!

Still up? Go check out the moon. 🌕 The bright object nearby is Jupiter, a gas giant planet 385,650,657 miles away from Earth (as of 10 minutes ago). #lookUp

Sonnet 144 - CXLIV
Two loves I have of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me still:
The better angel is a man right fair,
The worser spirit a woman coloured 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 turned fiend,
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell;
But bei…

My dear dear friend had been misdiagnosed with lingering pneumonia in the spring, and had spells of being very sick, nothing was helping. She finally got a breast cancer diagnosis a couple of weeks ago, and it had already spread everywhere, two weeks later she passed. I’m still in shock. Please stay up to date with your self exams and mammograms, and if you have an ailment that’s not clearing up, keep seeing doctors until they figure out what it is, get second opinions! Don’t wait. Love you Mary.

Sonnet 024 - XXIV
Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath steel'd,
Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;
My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,
And perspective it is best painter's art.
For through the painter must you see his skill,
To find where your true image pictur'd lies,
Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,
That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.
Now see what good turns eyes for eyes hav…