Nature hath no goal though she hath law.
Death is an ascension to a better library.
Then love is sin, and let me sinful be.
The Phoenix riddle hath more wit By us, we two being one, are it. So to one neutral thing both sexes fit, We die and rise the same, and prove Mysterious by this love.
Be more than man, or thou'rt less than an ant.
Full nakedness! All my joys are due to thee, as souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be, to taste whole joys.