We control fifty percent of a relationship. We influence one hundred percent of it.
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.
All live to die, and rise to fall.
Jigging veins of rhyming mother wits.
What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?
Till swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And, melting, Heavens conspir'd his overthrow.