She whom I love is hard to catch and conquer, Hard, but O the glory of the winning were she won!
See ye not, Courtesy is the true Alchemy, turning to gold all it touches and tries?
Prepare, You lovers, to know Love a thing of moods: Not like hard life, of laws.
The man who has no mind of his own lends it to the priests.
Caricature is rough truth.
Poetry is talking on tiptoe.