Study Project With Sci-Twi

Oh, hi! I’m so glad you made it. I’ve been looking forward to this all day. Sorry, I know that sounds a bit cringe but … oh, never mind.

Sorry for leaving so abruptly last time. Sometimes my brain is my own worst enemy.

You get that too? Well, that’s gratifying to hear. Um, not that I’m glad you get anxious too! Just that I … that you … um … sh-shall we pick up where we left off last time?

Oh, thank goodness.

I know last time we went into Shakespeare’s backstory … or, well, I lectured you on it like a complete nerd. This time, I thought we could dive into the sonnets themselves since, y’know that’s what Miss Coryphée wanted us to do our presentation on.

Here it is. My well-loved copy of his complete works. Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to have one too. I just made some notes in the margins that I want to show you. I wasn’t sure where you wanted to start, so I figured, hey, why not show you my favourites and go from there? I think you’ll like it; the way Shakespeare plays with language is just … kind of magical, honestly. There’s something so timeless about his words. Doesn’t matter if it’s the 1600s or the 2020s, the things he writes about are pretty timeless.

Ah, here it is: Sonnet 18. You might actually have heard it before. It gets used in movies and TV shows sometimes. The “Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?” one. There’s a reason it’s so famous. Shakespeare isn’t just complimenting someone’s beauty here; he’s preserving it through his poetry. Immortalising it. Isn’t that romantic? Ahem.

"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…"

It’s fascinating how he lays out the fleeting nature of summer with the enduring power of poetry. The idea that words can outlast even the brightest, most beautiful moments is just so … profound. Don’t you think? Or, at least … I think so.

Um, so, let’s break this down. Shakespeare starts by asking a rhetorical question: "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" It’s like saying, “Are you as wonderful as the perfect summer day?” But then, he answers his own question almost immediately: no, you're not like a summer's day, you’re even better!

The next line, "Thou art more lovely and more temperate," really hammers that point home. Summer can be unpredictable - too hot, too stormy, etc - but the person Shakespeare’s addressing is steady and temperate. It’s like he’s saying, “You’re the perfect balance, without any of the extremes that make summer imperfect.”

"Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer's lease hath all too short a date." Okay, so here’s where he points out summer’s flaws. Even the most beautiful parts of it, like May’s blooming flowers, are vulnerable to rough winds. And ‘summer’s lease’? That just means summer doesn’t last forever. It has an expiration date, no matter how much we might want it to stay.

But that’s the genius of Shakespeare. He’s not just talking about weather, is he? He’s talking about how everything beautiful is temporary. Summer ends. Flowers wilt. And time, no matter how much we’d like to fight it, takes its toll on everything. What’s fascinating, though, is what he’s saying underneath all that. Shakespeare’s pointing out how fragile and fleeting beauty is, but he’s also solving the problem. His solution? Poetry. Think about it: summer fades, but the person he’s writing about will stay immortal in his verse. That’s the power of words. He’s saying, “I can make you eternal, even after the world changes and seasons pass.” Isn’t that incredible?

I know poetry might seem … boring and intimidating at first. All the flowery language and old-fashioned words can feel like a barrier. But when you take it apart like this, line by line, it’s just a conversation; a way for Shakespeare to say something deeply personal and universal all at once.

What do you think? Can you see it now? How even someone from centuries ago can find a way to preserve what’s beautiful and fleeting, just by writing it down?

I’m glad. Is, um, me explaining it helpful or, um, patronising? My friends say that sometimes I can get a little patronising when I talk about something I’m passionate about. I don’t mean to be and it’s something I’m working on, I swear. I know they mean well and they’re just trying to help me fit in here at Canterlot High. It’s very different than Crystal Prep and I’m … still getting the hang of those differences, even now, after all this time.

Um, okay! Let’s try another sonnet. This one, Sonnet 130, is like the complete opposite of Sonnet 18. Instead of idealising someone, Shakespeare gets … well, really, super, uncomfortably honest. It’s supposed to be playful, though. Here, let me read a few lines:

"My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head."

Okay, I know this one sounds harsh but it’s not actually meant to be insulting! It’s Shakespeare poking fun at the over-the-top way people describe love in poetry. You know, the whole “Her eyes sparkle like the stars, her lips are rubies, her skin is snow” thing? He’s like, “Actually, no. That’s not what real love looks like. Real love is imperfect and that’s what makes it wonderful.”

Take the first line: "My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun." He’s saying her eyes aren’t blindingly bright or glowing with celestial power, they’re just eyes. Normal. Human. Mortal. Then "Coral is far more red than her lips' red." He’s being honest. Her lips aren’t unnaturally vivid or exaggerated and he’s okay with that. He’s deliberately rejecting all those unrealistic metaphors. And the next part? "If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun." Okay, yeah, that one’s a little awkward, but what he’s saying is her skin isn’t this perfect, snowy white people write about, it’s got colour, warmth, life. It’s skin that’s been lived in and shows her age and all she’s been through. And that’s beautiful, too, because he finds her beautiful not in spite of her lack of perfection, but because she’s imperfect, therefore she’s real.

"If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head." Again, it’s brutally honest but that’s a good thing! Her hair isn’t this perfect golden silk or whatever, it’s dark and a bit unruly, but instead of idealising this woman into some flawless, fake, untouchable goddess, he’s showing her as she really is and saying his love for her is better because it’s real, not some idealised impossible thing. That’s what I love about this sonnet. Shakespeare’s flipping the script. He’s saying, “I don’t love you because you fit some ridiculous, poetic standard of beauty. I love you for you.”

It’s kind of a relief, honestly. I mean, don’t we all feel like we’re supposed to measure up to impossible ideals sometimes? Like we have to be perfect in order to deserve love? But here’s Shakespeare, this literary genius, reminding us that love isn’t about perfection. It’s about authenticity, flaws and all.

The ending’s my favourite part. He writes: "And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare as any she belied with false compare." He’s saying, “Even though I didn’t use flowery, exaggerated language to describe her, my love for her is just as deep, just as rare, as any of those idealised relationships people write about.” Isn’t that kind of … I don’t know … comforting? Knowing that love doesn’t have to be this grand, perfect thing to be real? That just being human - flawed, messy, imperfect - is enough?

What about you? What do you think? Do you prefer the lofty, almost otherworldly romance of Sonnet 18, or the grounded, quirky charm of Sonnet 130?

You know, maybe that’s what makes Shakespeare so brilliant. His sonnets capture so many facets of human emotion: love, admiration, humour, even doubt. They’re not just words; they’re little windows into the human experience.

I was thinking … maybe we could write our own ‘modern sonnets’ as an exercise. It doesn’t have to follow all the strict rules; just something inspired by Shakespeare’s style. It could be a way to make the form a little less intimidating and, well, more relatable for you?

See, sonnets aren’t just about flowery language or showing off how clever you are with rhymes. They’re a way to explore the human experience - especially love. And not just romantic love, either. It can be love for a friend, or a family member, or even a passion or dream – it doesn’t even have to be a person, it can be a thing. Shakespeare used them to capture emotions that words sometimes struggle to contain.

Think about what we’ve read; how Sonnet 18 captures the idea of immortalising fleeting beauty so that love can last forever, or how Sonnet 130 embraces imperfection and emphasises that the ravages of time can make love more real for people. They’re so different, but both show real facets of love and connection.

So maybe, by trying to write our own, it’ll help you see how sonnets work - not just as a technical form, but as a way to express yourself.

What do you think? Want to give it a try? No pressure, of course! We can keep reading if you’d prefer. I just thought it might be a fun way to dive deeper. Honestly, any time spent exploring literature with you is time well spent. You’re an excellent listener and, I must admit, I’m enjoying today’s study session way more than last time.

Okay then! So, um, before I start, let’s go over the basics again, just so we’re on the same page. Sonnets have a very specific structure, which can seem intimidating but once you break it down, it’s not too bad.

Okay, so first, a Shakespearean sonnet has 14 lines. No more, no less. That’s the easiest part to remember. Each line is written in a rhythm called ‘iambic pentameter’. I know that sounds fancy, but it’s just a pattern of ten syllables per line, alternating between unstressed and stressed beats.

Ugh, I’m making it sound way more complicated than it is.

Like … like this: ‘da-DUM, da-DUM, da-DUM, da-DUM, da-DUM.*’

See? Something like: “I think I’ll write a sonnet just for you.” Yeah? That’s iambic pentameter.

Now, let’s talk about rhyme. Sonnets do rhyme; it’s not too complicated though. A Shakespearean sonnet follows a specific rhyme scheme called ABAB, CDCD, EFEF, GG. No, it’s not code. That just means the first and third lines rhyme with each other, the second and fourth rhyme, and so on, until the last two lines, which form a rhyming couplet, which means they rhyme with each other. Like here: “So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.” See how those last two lines rhyme? That’s the couplet. It’s like the punchline or conclusion of the whole poem.

The sonnet is usually divided into three quatrains – that’s three stanzas… I mean verses … groups of four lines - and the final couplet. Each quatrain explores an idea or a feeling, and the couplet ties everything together. Shakespeare was brilliant at using this structure to build up to a powerful conclusion.

So, if we were to write one, we’d just need to pick a theme or emotion to focus on; something personal or meaningful. And then we’d break it into three smaller ideas to explore in the quatrains and wrap it up with a strong couplet at the end. I know it sounds like a lot, but once you get started, it kind of flows. It’s like solving a puzzle, only instead of numbers or shapes, you’re using words and feelings.

So, um, does that makes sense? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Or, if you want, I can go ahead and try writing one first. It might not be perfect, but maybe it’ll show you how the pieces fit together. I mean, it’s just a little practice, but … well, I hope it might help you see how powerful this form can be. I mean, it’s probably going to be a little clumsy. I’m no Shakespeare. But there’s someone I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, and … well, maybe this will help me understand … my own feelings better.

Let’s see … um …

"Beneath the sun, her warmth sets hearts aglow,
Her steadfast strength like roots that hold the ground.
No fleeting bloom, but orchards' truth she'll show,
With wisdom’s voice and laughter's joyous sound."

"Her hands are worn, yet gentle in their grace,
A life of toil engraved in every line.
She stands as firm as mountains in their place,
A beacon bright, unyielding and divine."

"If I could pen her spirit, wild and free,
The page would burst with light too grand for me."

I mean … I didn’t follow it completely. I missed one of the quatrains but … what do you think?

Wait … what? No, it’s … you can’t possibly … Oh no, you figured it out? I … oh gosh, I wasn’t expecting you to know who I was talking about! Gym class? You … you’re in gym class with her? That’s … so coincidental it’s almost funny. Or tragic. Or … some other emotion I’m too embarrassed to think of right now. Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry …

Oh. Well. Thank you. That’s very sweet of you to reassure me like that.

Sorry. It’s just … she’s so strong, not just physically but emotionally too. She’s like this pillar of reliability for everyone around her. And yet, she’s humble. She doesn’t boast or show off, she just is. There’s this honesty about her that’s so … grounding.

You’ve probably seen it in class, haven’t you? How she’s always cheering people on, even when she’s exhausted. Or how she jumps in to help without being asked, whether it’s lifting something heavy or covering for someone who forgot their assignment. And then there’s her smile. It’s so warm. Like, no matter what’s going wrong, it’ll be okay because she’s there. I mean, she’s not perfect; she can be stubborn, and we don’t always see eye to eye, but she’s … she’s just so …

I sound ridiculous, don’t I? I mean, I’m sitting here gushing about her when… when she probably doesn’t even think about me like that. She’d probably laugh if she knew I wrote half a sonnet about her. I just … I admire her so much. I couldn’t help but pour some of those feelings into the poem.

And now you know. Great. Wonderful. Once again, I splurged my messy emotions all over you in what was meant to be a benign, platonic study session, I’m so, so sorry.

Please … please don’t say anything to her, okay? I don’t think I could handle her finding out like this.

I mean, what if it ruins everything?

Anyway! Um, if you ever want to try writing about someone you admire, I’d love to hear it. It’s only fair and … surprisingly cathartic. Even if they’ll never read it, it’s nice to get those feelings out on paper.

Not that I’d ever show her this. That would be … mortifying. Even more mortifying than this has been already.

Oh! Sorry. I think I’m coming down with something.

You know, one of the most fascinating things about Shakespeare is how much we don’t know about him. People have been debating for centuries about whether he might have been … well, queer. I think I mentioned that last time? um … my brain is a bit scattered right now, as you can imagine. I’ve been thinking about that a lot since our last session; about how his sonnets captured these deeply personal emotions. Some of them are addressed to a ‘fair youth’ and others to a ‘dark lady’ and they’re all just … so intimate. Shakespeare poured so much of himself into his words.

It’s funny, in a way. Working on this study project with you, reading through these sonnets, it’s … it’s really made me think about my own feelings. About how poetry, even hundreds of years old, can still resonate so deeply.

I guess what I’m trying to say is … it’s helped me realise something about myself. About someone in my life. You probably guessed it already, right? You’re really insightful. All that talk about how sonnets capture love and admiration? Yeah, that … that wasn’t just academic interest. The more I read in preparation for these sessions, the more I started noticing patterns in my own thoughts.

I mean, I’ve always admired her. How could I not? But I thought that was just … normal friendship stuff. I’ve never had friends until I moved here to Canterlot High and I’m still figuring out a lot of stuff about what friendship is and how to keep friends. Then when I read Sonnet 18, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d compare her to a summer’s day. Her hair is the colour of sunlight and fresh hay, after all. And Sonnet 130? That one hit me too. It’s like, even when I think of all her flaws - how stubborn she can be, how her honesty can sometimes be too brutal, how sometimes she just charges in without thinking … I still think she’s amazing. Maybe even more because of those things. They make her … realer. Just like the woman Shakespeare was talking about.

It’s Shakespeare’s sonnets that made me realise these feelings I have aren’t just admiration or respect. They’re … deeper than that. More personal.

And then I started wondering about Shakespeare himself. He was so fearless in expressing his emotions, even when society wasn’t exactly open to that kind of thing. Some of his most passionate sonnets were written to a man, and people have been debating his sexuality for ages. It’s inspiring, really. Knowing that someone from so long ago might’ve had to navigate the same complicated feelings as we do today. It makes me feel … I don’t know … a little less alone?

His words are so tender, so full of longing. It makes you wonder whether Shakespeare was writing about his own feelings just for himself? Was it just a creative exercise or was he figuring himself out too? Either way, it’s kind of beautiful to think that his work might reflect something so personal. Sonnet 20, for example, has this line: ‘A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted, Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion.’ It’s like he’s describing someone who transcends traditional ideas of gender. And the way he writes about them … there’s so much admiration and love. It’s comforting, in a way, to think that even centuries ago, people were exploring feelings that don’t fit neatly into boxes.

I just wish I had even a fraction of his courage. Writing stuff out in a sonnet is one thing, but … actually telling someone how you feel? That’s terrifying.

Maybe that’s why Shakespeare’s words have lasted so long. They’re not just poetry; they’re pieces of him. Little glimpses into his heart. And maybe, someday, I’ll find the courage to share a piece of mine with more than just my family, too.

Figuring out that I’m bisexual … it took a while to come to terms with it. At first, I thought: “This can’t be me, I’m too logical for this to be a thing.” But feelings aren’t equations you can solve. They just … they just are. I told Shining Armor and Cadance a couple of months ago. I was so nervous but they were amazing about it. My big brother Shiny just gave me this big hug and Cadance was like “Well, love comes in all shapes and sizes, Twilight. You of all people should know that.” It was such a weight off my shoulders; their acceptance, their continued love of me. I’m working up the courage to tell my parents soon. I know they’ll be supportive - they always have been - but it’s still scary. You can never really truly predict how someone will react, you know?

Reading Shakespeare, though … it’s so dumb, but it helps. Knowing that someone as brilliant as him might have felt the same kind of feelings I do reminds me that love, in all its forms, is worth celebrating. Reading Shakespeare’s sonnets, they’re just … they’re just so full of feeling. It’s incredible how he managed to put all of those complex thoughts into words, making them feel timeless.

Making a stupid girl in the current day feel like she has something in common with a poet from the Elizabethan Era.

Emotions have always been tricky for me. As someone who loves science and, well, as someone who’s autistic, people often assume I don’t feel anything at all. Like, if I’m not showing my emotions the way they expect, then they must just not be there. But they are there. Sometimes, they’re just too big to express or I don’t know the right words to explain them. It’s hard when people don’t understand that. I end up bottling things up because I don’t want to say the wrong thing or I’m afraid they’ll misinterpret what I’m trying to share but … spending time with you, reading Shakespeare like this … it’s actually helping. A lot.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to get so personal. Um, again. But, um … thank you for listening. It’s nice to share these thoughts with someone like you. The way you just sit and listen without rushing me, without judging makes me feel … safe. Like I can take my time to sort through my thoughts and feelings. That’s not something I’ve experienced very often.

So … I was wondering. Would you like to be my friend?

I mean, I know we’ve haven’t spent a huge amount of time together, but … I just wanted to say it out loud. I don’t always get the chance to ask people directly, and … well, you strike me as someone I’d really like to have in my life.

Thank you. I think William Shakespeare would approve of this moment. He’d probably write a whole sonnet about how nice it feels to connect with someone who truly listens.

Anyway, where were we before I got struck by verbal diarrhoea? Oh, right—writing sonnets. Maybe I’ll write another one someday about how terrifying and wonderful it is to be yourself. But for now, let’s see if we can find some inspiration in Shakespeare’s words … for you.