everyone piano affections touching across time

But stop trying to get people to think you're serious and wise by acting all melancholy.

I'll tell you more about this another time. Why should a warm-blooded man be as cold and stoic as a statue of his dead grandfather? Why should he be so inactive that he is practically asleep while awake, and start to get jaundice from being cranky so much? I tell you what, Antonio-I love you, and I'm speaking out of love-there are some people whose faces are so unmoving that they grow scum like a still pond, and they try hard to maintain a still expression so that they can seem to be wise, serious, and profound, like someone who could say, 'I am Sir Oracle, and when I open my lips to speak, let no dog bark!' Oh my Antonio, these kind of men only have the reputation of wisdom because they say nothing, and I'm sure that if they should speak, everyone listening would realize they are fools. I'd rather destroy my liver with wine than waste away with sad groans. I don't care if laughter causes wrinkles. But fish not with this melancholy bait For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.- Come, good Lorenzo.-Fare ye well awhile. I’ll tell thee more of this another time. Why should a man whose blood is warm within Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster, Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio- I love thee, and ’tis my love that speaks- There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, And do a willful stillness entertain With purpose to be dressed in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, As who should say, “I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!” O my Antonio, I do know of these That therefore only are reputed wise For saying nothing, when I am very sure If they should speak, would almost damn those ears Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. And let my liver rather heat with wine Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.

Everyone piano affections touching across time