Hello My Dear Friend 

I wish you a happy happy  New Year , all the  best  ,  

Even  if its really   difficut time  for  everyone ,   becuse of the  covid .

I wish,  the best for every day.  

 love   is    the  best  medicine   for everything  :)    

smille on ypur face   :)   from your hearth    , like   this one   here   :)

soo    gett well soon   and look foword  ...  because   , you are  important .. you see?    REMEMBER  - I LOVE YOU  ---  I LOVE YOU --- I LOVE YOU.

What a piece of work is a man!

What a piece of work is a man!
How noble in reason!
How infinite in faculty!
in form, in moving, how express and admirable!
in action how like an angel!
in apprehension how like a god!
the beauty of the world!
the paragon of animals!
And yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust?
man delights not me; no, nor woman neither,
though, by your smiling, you seem to say so.

a piece of work (noun): an unpleasant person
noble (adjective): honorable
infinite (adjective): never ending
admirable (adjective): worthy of approval
apprehension (noun): the state of being unsure
paragon (noun): a model of excellence
quintessence (noun): the perfect example of something

When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tattered weed of small worth held.
Then being asked where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say within thine own deep-sunken eyes
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use
If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse',
Proving his beauty by succession thine.

SHALL I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometimes declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.