Don't mess with the dead, boy, they have eerie powers.
Trying is the first step toward failure.
...if fifty bands of men surrounded us/ and every sword sang for your blood,/ you could make off still with their cows and sheep.
There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad.
Beauty! Terrible Beauty! A deathless Goddess-- so she strikes our eyes!
Marge, when I join an underground cult I expect a little support from my family.