Only a Perfect One who is always laughing at the word two can make you know of Love.
Now that all your worry has proved such an unlucrative business. Why not find a better job.
There is no pleasure without a tincture of bitterness.
On the neck of a young man sparkles no gem so gracious as enterprise.
You have actually waltzed with tremendous style, my sweet, O my sweet, crushed angel.
Run my dear, from anything that may not strengthen your precious budding wings. Run like hell my dear, from anyone likely to put a sharp knife into the sacred, tender vision of your beautiful heart.