Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? (Hamlet, V.i)
Pretty much every time Isabella holds an apple she reminds me of Hamlet.
Pretty much every time Isabella holds an apple she reminds me of Hamlet.
No comments:
Post a Comment