…from the quills of the dead white poets

 William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)

 The lunatic, the lover, and the poet,

Are of imagination all compact;

One sees more devils than vast held can hold,

That is, the madman; the lover, all as frantic,

Sees Helen’s beauty in a brow of Egypt:

The poet’s eye, in fine frenzy rolling,

Doth glance from heaven to earth to heaven;

And, as imagination bodies forth

The form of things unknown, the poet’s pen

Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing

a local habitation and a name.

/From A Midsummer Night’s Dream/

About Avadoro Worden

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