From Sonnet XLVIII:
And even thence thou wilt be stol’n, I fear,
For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.
Shift around the letters, and it becomes:
Irreverent historian Howard Zinn offered to let vast upbeat hope touch fresh lives.
This entry was posted on Saturday, January 30th, 2010 at 1:39 pm and is filed under Anagram, History, Poetry, Rest in Peace, Shakespeare. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
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