I was on my walk, strolling in the woods, when I came upon a rubbish pile. I stood, shaking my head, looking at the empty packs of processed food, the discarded clothing, the magazines and VHS cassettes. I dislodged a cassette, rolling it over with my foot. "1992 Winter Olympics." Another, "Tales from the Crypt." From between last month's news, and a shiny collection of swimsuits, "BUY! BUY! BUY!" and bad advice, an always familiar surface called out to me. Grasping the grimy, coated cloth cover, (you know, that same cover that most hardbacks used, before the bottom line sank below the customer) I pulled it free. I was expecting some collection of short stories by whomever knew the right person, some particular month in 1964, or a scripture perhaps. But no! The gold lettering was worn, but it still stood out rather well on the maroon title bar: COMPLETE WORKS - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. I guess it's true what they say: "one man's trash, is another man's treasure."