Some Arrows slay but whom they strike - But this slew all but him - Who so appareled his Escape - Too trackless for a Tomb
Love is like life-merely longer.
Forever is comprised of nows.
Love is everything. And that's all we know about it.
The power to console is not within corporeal reach - though its attempt is precious.
Mine Enemy is growing old -- I have at last Revenge -- The Palate of the Hate departs -- If any would avenge Let him be quick -- the Viand flits -- It is a faded Meat -- Anger as soon as fed is dead -- 'Tis starving makes it fat