Chide me, dear stone, that I may say indeed
Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she
In thy not chiding; for she was as tender
As infancy and grace. But yet, Paulina,
Hermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing
So aged as this seems.
The Winter’s Tale, V. ii., Leontes, at seeing his queen, gone sixteen years, a statue come to life
I happened to walk past the white barn in the alley and saw the grizzled morning glory vines, seed pods pressed open, dangling icicles, and thought of the summer morning I’d found them lushly blooming against the weathered white boards; in those sere muted vines Leontes still sees his queen in her infancy and grace.
Give The Winter’s Tale a read. Shakespeare is always enlightening.
. . . . . .
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