- Messages
- 29
- Wand
- Oak 14 3/4" Essence of Raven Feather
O! how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give.
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour, which doth in it live.
The canker blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly
When summer's breath their masked buds discloses:
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade;
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made:
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
When that shall vade, my verse distills your truth.
Andrei read Shakespeare's 54th sonnet with his almost boyish voice. He was perfectly bored in his dorm room. He felt like he needed to see something lovely or, at least, colorful. And that's supposed to be the flowers in the garden. Andrei wanted to paint. But Durmstrang Institute wasn't the type of school where they would allow the students to go merry. No. Durmstrang was a strict wizard school. Andrei would have loved to leave this place. "But where would I go? Hogwarts?" he muttered to himself and chuckled. He underestimated Hogwarts, of course. Though he was aware that his school has only been destroying Hpgwarts' name for fame, Andrei didn't have any plans to study in that wretched school. Andrei looked down from the tree branch and found some of his classmates giggling about a book. Andrei only stared at them with a mask-like face. His auburn hair swayed with the strong wind that signals a coming storm.
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give.
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour, which doth in it live.
The canker blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly
When summer's breath their masked buds discloses:
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade;
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made:
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
When that shall vade, my verse distills your truth.
Andrei read Shakespeare's 54th sonnet with his almost boyish voice. He was perfectly bored in his dorm room. He felt like he needed to see something lovely or, at least, colorful. And that's supposed to be the flowers in the garden. Andrei wanted to paint. But Durmstrang Institute wasn't the type of school where they would allow the students to go merry. No. Durmstrang was a strict wizard school. Andrei would have loved to leave this place. "But where would I go? Hogwarts?" he muttered to himself and chuckled. He underestimated Hogwarts, of course. Though he was aware that his school has only been destroying Hpgwarts' name for fame, Andrei didn't have any plans to study in that wretched school. Andrei looked down from the tree branch and found some of his classmates giggling about a book. Andrei only stared at them with a mask-like face. His auburn hair swayed with the strong wind that signals a coming storm.