Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus!
Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow;
When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest. »
-- Shakespear, Timon, i. i.
In my decades-long quest to recover from the brain-damage and homicidal psychosis caused by my high school "English" classes, I recently tried reading Shakespear's Timon. The English is crystal clear at points; and at points, just cryptic words on a page, like Apemantius's bit, above. Most of the rest of the play falls inbetween, where every block of dialog is a task, where I have to read, stare, and then make for myself a mental summary, like "Timon says 'no, you don't have to pay me back, even tho you have the money.'"
In other news, the other day it occurred to me that the Diamond Sutra is meant to be read, aloud, while stoned senseless on drugs that probably don't even exist anymore.