Happy Birthday, William Shakespeare!
Nearly 450 years ago a boy was born in an English village. No stars aligned to signal the birth of a literary saviour, he was not showered with privilege or power, his family was not terribly remarkable. The boy’s parents lived in a small town surrounded by farm land and populated with simple people who spent their days in largely manual labour. As the ordinary boy grew, he filled his life with ordinary pursuits: he attended the same school as everyone else in the village, he learned a trade and he went to church.
Somewhere along the line, the ordinary boy learned how to write—and he ceased to be ordinary. What this boy put down on paper was inventive, imaginative and immortal. There seemed to be nothing special about him, but his grasp of the best and worst of humanity appeared almost supernatural in its ability to see into our…
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