A quote from that link above:
"The author is dead: let’s leave his bones to lie in peace, ganja or no."
I say, fuck his bones. I wanna know if he was stoned when he wrote Midsummer Night's Dream.
"The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.”
“I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.”
“My soul is in the sky.”
--A Midsummer Night's Dream