Shakespearean Sonnets Essay (Sonnets 19 and 104)
This is a short story about a horse called Perfection. ... The seconds continued to announce their passing, and Perfection could not ignore it anymore. ... The search for perfection preyed upon humanity. True perfection was unattainable. ... Perfection was pessimistic, to say the least. ... Perfection forced tiring muscles, thrusting beneath the sleek pelt, to continue, and make it look effortless. It was an art, one Perfection had often strived to make flawless. True perfection was an art, and all sought it to some end or other. ... The scythes fought for a grip upon the lithosphere, holding Perfection to reality. ... Perfection was a ruthless art; those who played well at life practiced perfection to the peak of every letter.