So, I decided I needed to read me some poetry. Because they say, a writer should develop an ear for rhythm and all that nonsense.
Anyway, I picked up Shakespeare’s sonnets. The first one–you need to have babies. The next two more poems–you really really need to have babies. Because well, if you don’t have babies, you’re being selfish, he calls it niggardly. You deny the world your beautiful face.
Apparently the first 17 of them is hurry up and make babies before you die or you’d have failed as a human being.
And I’m like, wtf??? I am in serious need of something nihilisitic to balance out three poems on my duty to procreate. Any suggestions?