Shakespeare's Birthday

Well, actually it was yesterday but I missed it.

This is probably my favorite piece of Shakespeare, Sonnet 130

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

I've got Sting to thank for leading me to this. It's a beautiful poem that talks about how conventional beauty isn't everything. Or at least the habit of grouping beauty into certain small categories is a bad idea. A universal and timeless lesson.