When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor’d youth,
Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false speaking tongue:
On both sides thus is simple truth suppress’d.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O, love’s best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told:
Therefore I lie with her and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flatter’d be.

Today in Acting II we watched a movie about learning how to speak Shakespearean blank verse and one of the actors read through this sonnet a few times.

I am totally in love with it. I love the way it talks about truth and how relationships can exist even when you recognize dishonesty in the other person. It reminds me of how dishonesty becomes honestly. The way that a person presents themself and the way you perceive them is a truth. It’s just as valid as any other truth. I don’t even know if there is a basic truth that you can come down in yourself or in someone else in the way that everyone thinks.

I’m probably being a “bad reader” by Nabokov’s standards, but I like this sonnet because it makes me think about truth and lies. Shakespeare’s sonnets are amazing. I will probably be up reading them all night…

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