Nothing violent, oft have I heard tell, can be permanent.
What feeds me destroys me.
Confess and be hanged.
Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
While money doesn't buy love, it puts you in a great bargaining position.
It lies not in our power to love or hate, for will in us is overruled by fate.