Until you have loved, you cannot become yourself.
Memory is a strange Bell—Jubilee, and Knell.
Heart, we will forget him, You and I, tonight! You must forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light.
Enough is so vast a sweetness I suppose it never occurs.
The Crime, from us, is hidden, [though] he is presumed to know.
Witchcraft was hung, in History, But History and I Find all the Witchcraft that we need Around us, every Day -