The Memory of Shakespeare

After some thirty days, the dead man's memory had come to animate me fully. For one curiously happy week, I almost believed myself Shakespeare. One morning I perceived a sense of guilt deep within his memory. He tolerated absounds d'on el fini or interpolated them so that his discourse might appear spontaneous and not overly polished and artificial. That same goal inspired him to mix his metaphors. My way of life is fallen into the seer, the yellow leaf.