Tyranny is yielding to the lust of the governing.
It's impossible to ravish me, I'm so willing.
Our acts our angels are, for good or ill, our fatal shadows that walk by us still.
Deeds, not words shall speak me.
Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes, brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose.
Ask how to live? Write, write, write, anything; The world's a fine believing world, write news.