If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets,Stealing and giving odour!
im in love with the idea of falling in love. or am i? i think i can compare myself to the likes of Orsino, i looove being self indulgent and cooping myself in my own world. Orsino is fickle and so am i, at certain times :/
somehow, as i grow older, i think i am able to understand my olevel text better, think i was too imature back then. twelfth night is defintely very close to my heart and its bears certain relevance to my life. suddenly, i have the urge to go back and read the text again! after i get through the humongous pile of junk, that is!