The [word]smithy of my soul

Years ago, I fell under the spell of a man who spoke beautifully. It's not the only time I've done so. This may indicate a certain susceptibility men with language skills, and perhaps there is a clinical term for it. These gentlemen don't have to be living now, or ever; in fact, they can be fictional characters. One of my favorites, Lord Peter Wimsey, graces a series of detective novels written by Dorothy Sayers. These are the books I reread when I am sick in bed for a few days, as I never tire of Lord Peter's company. In this clip from one of the brilliant the BBC adaptations, with Edward Petherbridge as Lord Peter, and Harriet Walter as writer Harriet Vane, we learn that "one wordsmith [is] worth three cyber-experts." Yea, verily.

But my current affair of the heart may be the biggest one ever. I know the news will devastate Sir Paul McCartney, but really, darling Paul, you must admit you've had your chances. I shall always feel great affection for you - in fact, I am doing a concert on your birthday, dedicated to you and your tunes. But you've been supplanted in my affection by a kinsman of yours, an rather older man, William Shakespeare. You must have felt it coming, yes? ever since you released that tune with the mandolin.

Here's Edward Petherbridge again, this time giving us Shakespeare's Sonnet 57 ("Being your slave, what should I do...").

'Nuff said.