Fw: [ShivaYoga] Re: Why Shakesphere says that I Should love Lisa Dewit?

my dear watson !

you love to abuse and be abused -

In psychology it is called 'sadomaschism'

Read the book 'screw the roses and send me the thorns'

you are ok!

--- In shivyoga@yahoogroups.com, "Lisa Ennai Emattrinaal"
<krshna78@...> wrote:
>
>
> No Vinatha. No Daniele. I think Shakesphere is wrong. Why should I
> love Lisa when I dont even know how She looks? now that i know how
> Vinatha looked when she was a BUD and also Dani when was a TULIP.
>
> But this Lisa.. i have no clue. and MORE OVER Lisa is Older than
Dani
> and Elder to Akhila and Padmini..
>
> So why Should I be mad after Lisa?
>
> why should I ever miss her?
>
> why should I keep on checking the groups
> and check my e mail if Lisa has replied to My messages at all?
>
> why should i ever care.. if Lisa is on the net or not?
>
> why Should i even bother to check if LIsa has posted any messages
in
> her Blog?
>
> why should I even care to check if she is on the net by frequently
> check the Blogs and Note Book blogs of Lisa if she is on the net or
> not?
>
> why shoudl I even spend my time to worry if Lisa is ever on the
net,,
>
> or even care .,. if she is attending any spritual convention?
>
> after all
>
> Lisa awarded a title that i am
> a Schizophrenic !
>
> that i am of a aplit mind?
>
> why should i even think of LIsa
>
> who has abused me so much?
>
> why should i even worry
> if Lisa is feeling well or not?
>
> after all
>
> Lisa thinks I am not worthy of HER love
>
> so why should i even Dream of Being worthy of the love of LIsa?
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> Sonnet 130 (shakespeare)
>
> My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
> Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
> If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
> If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
> I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
> But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
> And in some perfumes is there more delight
> Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
> I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
> That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
> I grant I never saw a goddess go;
> My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
> And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
> As any she belied with false compare.
>

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