And how they kist each other's tremulous eyes.
I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.
So rainbow-sided, touch'd with miseries, She seem'd, at once, some penanced lady elf, Some demon's mistress, or the demon's self.
Wine is only sweet to happy men.
Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave a paradise for a sect.
--then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.