Reading one of Shakespeare's comedies will always feel like summer to me. I've read far more of his plays for classes, but my first was on a summer day. I opened up a little red hardbound book (that now sits beside my bed), and I spent the entire day reading A Midsummer Night's Dream. I laid on a blanket in the sunshine with it, staring up at the glittering leaves far above my head in the back yard. I brought it with me to physical therapy. I finished it late at night, tucked away in bed.

Tonight, I've just begun Much Ado About Nothing, and that same light and serenely happy feeling has lit in my heart. I could nearly cry for the strength of that ever close, and yet so untouchable feeling of childhood happiness. I will always love Shakespeare. I will love him for his wit, for his command of language, for his playfulness and courage, and I will love him especially for something that is nothing of his doing... I will love him for the memories he played a part in. I'll love him for making me think of those leaves, flicking gold in the fading summer lights.

Claudio: Benedick, didst though note the daughter of Signior Leonato?
Benedick: I noted her not; but I looked on her.
Claudio: Is she not a modest young lady?
Benedick: Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for my simple true judgment; or would you have me speak after my custom, as being professed tyrant to their sex?
Claudio: No; I pray thee speak in sobery judgment.
Benedick: Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise: only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome, and being no other but as she is, I do not like her.
Claudio: Though thinkest I am in sport; I pray thee tell me truly how you likest her.
Benedick: Would you buy her, that you inquire after her?
Claudio: Can the world buy such a jewel?
Benedick: Yea, and a case to put it into...

Claudio: That I love her, I feel.
Don Pedro: That she is worthy, I know.
Benedick: That I neither feel how she should be loved nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me: I will die in it at the stake.
Don Pedro: Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite of beauty.
Claudio: And never could maintain his part but in the force of his will.
Benedick: That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up, I likewise give her most humble thanks: but that I will have a recheat winded in my forehead, or hand my bugle in an invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust nonel and the fine is, = for the which I may go the finer, - I will live a bachelor.
Don Pedro: I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love.
Benedick: With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord; not with love...


Set the stage, dear friend. ;)