Maybe it's just the ancient studies of that far-off teenage years that was calling out to me, but I had this insane urge to reread this classic poem of lust. It contrasts nicely with the recent romance novels that I've had the dubious enjoyment of reading. It's particularly nice to see a strong-headed woman who feels no issue with chasing after a man who would rather spear a boar than her. I wonder if Adonis was actually Scottish? Maybe West-Virginian? Alas, alak, would he rather swive a swine than appeal to Aphrodite? Wait. Am I talking about romance novels or Shakespeare? Damn... nothing is ever clear-cut.