20200914 Monday
Sonnet 140
Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain; Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express The manner of my pity-wanting pain. If I might teach thee wit, better it were, Though not to love, yet, love to tell me so; As testy sick men, when their deaths be near, No news but health from their physicians know; For, if I should despair, I should grow mad, And in my madness might speak ill of thee; Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad, Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be. That I may not be so, nor thou belied, Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.
https://www.nosweatshakespeare.com/sonnets/140/
Disavow 否認
Condone おおめにみる 容赦する
heteronormative 異性愛規範
Praise myself:
- Worked at the office
- posted
- Lived
- Did routine
- Lip sync