"Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And guilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly doctor-like controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone."
Sonnet LXVI (66)
Why is it foolish to be free of all fads or fashion?
How can I be right or wrong in a world that is constantly changing?
Why do some pursue what others persecute?
Why does half the world laughs when they see the other half cry?
Why does half the world cry when they see the other half cry?
why is it that the more absurd and abstracdt my beliefs, the firmer I hold onto them?
Why is it that the more we love the greater the suffering at the loss?
Why does freedom affords us the luxury of ignoring what we need to know? (the more freedom we have the greater our ignorance grows of what really matters).
Guru Nanak was invited to a maharaja's home to eat. When he refused to eat the host asked why. The Guru asked for a peasant to make him some food. He held up the roti's from these two households, and told the maharaja that blood poured out of his gift, whereas milk poured out of the gift from the peasant. He then asked, "what shall I eat?"
Such are the contradictions we live with today. Perhaps we need to slow down and take a closer look.
"I am not merry, but I do beguile
The thing I am by seeming otherwise.
If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit,
The one’s for use, the other useth it.
If she be black, and thereto have a wit,
She’ll find a white that shall her blackness fit.
She never yet was foolish that was fair,
For even her folly help’d her to an heir.
There’s none so foul and foolish there-unto
But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do".
Othello (Act II, Scene I)