Comments on: All the World is a Stage

By: Tara Joyce

Tara Joyce — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 00:15:40 +0000

I don’t think it’s just analysts that like to organize… you should see my kitchen, I can organize like a son-of-a-bitch;)

By: Tara Joyce

Tara Joyce — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 00:14:19 +0000

Thank you for the beautiful phrases. In regards to the pre-Victorians and the stage of childhood, I simply meant that they had not identified ‘childhood’ as a stage of a human’s development. There was no understanding of the developmental growth that occurs in a human as they age. You are of course right that wisdom has always been respected – whether from the young or the old.

By: Tara Joyce

Tara Joyce — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 20:01:13 +0000

Hi. Thanks for emailing me.

I've decided to go on vacation and I'm off in the wild until mid-August.

Leave me a note and I'll get back to you upon my return.

Be well,

Tara

By: Tara Joyce

Tara Joyce — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 20:01:11 +0000

Hi. Thanks for emailing me.

I've decided to go on vacation and I'm off in the wild until mid-August.

Leave me a note and I'll get back to you upon my return.

Be well,

Tara

By: Robyn McMaster

Robyn McMaster — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 21:24:49 +0000

Amazing how many analysts like to organize everything into neat packages. My mind is unpredictable, adventurous and likes the notion of play.

By: msbaroque

msbaroque — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 21:17:19 +0000

Hmmm... bit of an overstatement re the pre-Victorians perhaps?

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players,
They have their exits and entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then, the whining schoolboy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden, and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice
In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws, and modern instances,
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side,
His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide,
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again towards childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

The vocabulary changes, and Shakespeare was talking in terms of outer stages, sure, but even back in the olden days people respected those who had attained a thing called wisdom.