I Have Officially Run Out of Interesting Things to Say

Judging by the volume of notes scribbled in my 16/17th century British Lit anthology (ie, shit I read in 1993 when I had a goddam girlfriend) I seem to have greatly cared about Sir Thomas Wyatt, John Donne, and Milton's Areopagitica, and nothing else. Though I remember preferring Faustus to Shakespeare. Hmm.