AN ARTIFICIAL NIGHT ARC contest #2: What's in a name?

[seanan_mcguire]

Suggested by the lovely valdary:

All Toby books (and in-universe short stories) have titles taken from the works of Shakespeare. There's a lot of Shakespeare out there! So...

To enter for an ARC of An Artificial Night, suggest a quote or quotes that would make a good title for a Toby story. Extra credit if they're quotes not everyone would know (for example, going with An Artificial Night from Romeo and Juliet, rather than something more familiar). Please include the surrounding text in your entry, as well as identifying the scene/sonnet/poem the quote comes from. Entries must be between three and five words.

Example:

Late Eclipses.

"These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend
No good to us: though the wisdom of nature can
Reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself
Scourged by the sequent effects: love cools,
Friendship falls off, brothers divide: in
Cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in
Palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son
And father..." —King Lear.

I'll select the winner through random drawing on Tuesday, June 29th. By entering, you grant permission for me to use your title if I think it's awesome, since Shakespeare is public domain and also, well, I might have issues round about book eleven, when everything has been suggested already.

Game on!

Comments

[beable]

thy mother's glass

From Sonnet III:


...
Thou art thy mother's glass and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime;
So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,
Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time.
But if thou live, remember'd not to be,
Die single and thine image dies with thee.


These poor rude lines

From Sonnet XXXII:

If thou survive my well-contented day,
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover,
Compare them with the bett'ring of the time,
And though they be outstripped by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,
Exceeded by the height of happier men.
...



Lilies that fester

From Sonnet XCIV:

...
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds.


And since it's not all about sonnets:

Into a cloven pine

The Tempest, Act 1, Scene 2


And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain

[seanan-mcguire.livejournal.com]

Nice ones!