I was thinking a while ago about how love is approached in different historical/geographical/cultural contexts, and how, as mankind evolved, this approach must’ve undergone a greater metamorphosis than that of any other theme. So I came up with this new category for the blog, where I can post small excerpts from books, something like this, and mention the author, the year, the country as well. Ideally these would be in chronological order, but I am way too lazy for that.
For the first post, it obviously has to be that guy, whom some argue is the one who invented the concept of love as we have it today.
Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art to reckon my groans: but that I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu.
Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him,
– William Shakespeare, Hamlet, probably England, probably around 1600.