Quotes - Shakespeare "Troilus and Cressida" for Roger Federer

The first time I read this,I was struck by how it made me think of tennis.Of the process of the falling of champions.The passing of years,and glory.A beautiful piece of music,or a great play may be performed again,and again.But an athlete's time is only the time of a human youth.
It made me think of Federer.It certainly makes me think of Navratilova,and Evert in comparison to the current crop.
Watching Roger Federer now,I had to think of this.He's not finished.Years I watched him,and never really worried.But he has started looking more touchable,and less like a work of art in full song.I'm feeling the worry now.
Inevitable.
But I still feel this too;
You cannot tarnish true greatness.It's still there.Always.If you have the memory.
Most people don't seem to have enough.Or perspective.
Whatever shines now,shines brightest.Not always.Not to me.
But I'm an exception.

This is beautiful,sad truth;


William Shakespeare


Troilus and Cressida,Act 3,Scene 3.Ulysses addressing Achilles.


Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
A great-sized monster of ingratitudes:
Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done: perseverance, dear my lord,
Keeps honour bright: to have done is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail
In monumental mockery. Take the instant way;
For honour travels in a strait so narrow,
Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path;
For emulation hath a thousand sons
That one by one pursue: if you give way,
Or hedge aside from the direct forthright,
Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by
And leave you hindmost;
Or like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank,
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
O'er-run and trampled on: then what they do in present,
Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours;
For time is like a fashionable host
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand,
And with his arms outstretch'd, as he would fly,
Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles,
And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not
virtue seek
Remuneration for the thing it was;
For beauty, wit,
High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
To envious and calumniating time.
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,
That all with one consent praise new-born gawds,
Though they are made and moulded of things past,
And give to dust that is a little gilt
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.
The present eye praises the present object.