Sonnet 119

What potions have I drunk of siren tears,

Distilled from limbecks foul as hell within,

Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,

Still losing when I saw myself to win!

What wretched errors have my heart committed,

Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!

How have my eyes out of their sheres been fitted

In the distraction of this maddening fever!

O benefit of ill, now I find true

That better is by evil still made better;

And ruined love when it is built anew

Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater,

So I return rebuked to my content,

And gain by ills thrice more than I have spent.

Custodian 管理人　守衛 keeper

Skewed 歪んだ

Wither 枯れる　衰えるwilt opp. Thrive

Praise myself:

1. Did routine
2. 🧺
3. Set timer of the air conditioner warm to dry
4. went to the office