Man's word is God in man.
Some full-breasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs.
Whatever crazy sorrow saith, No life that breathes with human breath Has ever truly longed for death.
By blood a king, in heart a clown.
The woman is so hard Upon the woman.
The thrall in person may be free in soul