William Shakespeare was born on
The famous Shakespearean critic A.C. Bradley defined this greatness in many ways; it is strength of will, power of life, glory, magnificence, magnitude. The hero is grand, beautiful, heroic, colossal and supreme. All these qualities command respect and compel our attention and appreciation.
The sphere of human heart is so vast that Shakespeare beaded the depth in one word, I die Horatio, and rest is silence. In Hamlet Shakespeare put our pain in an acid test. In, to be or not to be, he depicted the hidden chorus in our hearts. In Macbeth he churned our sleeping evil lust and challenged its veracity. In the characters desperation he questioned why our life should be a tale told by an idiot. I feel like that Shakespeare never surfaced from the depth of his searches. But whenever he rested he created those sonnets which still glitters like the distant stars in the solitary silence of a night.
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought,
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye (unused to flow)
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee (dear friend)
All losses are restored, and sorrows end.
Akbar Hussain
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