9 February 2013
Today, there seems to be some tempest brewing over yonder- perhaps it's only a dust devil on the horizon, it's course 'yet unclear. It made me think of Romeo and Juliet's Mercutio and this scene from Act 1. Slumber well all and "dream of love-":
ROMEO Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talk’st of nothing.
MERCUTIO True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being angered, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
BENVOLIO This wind you talk of, blows us from ourselves. Supper is done, and we shall come too late.
ROMEO I fear too early, for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars
My Mind Misgives Some Consequence Yet Hanging In The Stars • Opuss № I