The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted; they have torn me, and I bleed. I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.
Be warm, be pure, be amorous, but be chaste.
Smiles form the channels of a future tear.
The dew of compassion is a tear.
Self-love for ever creeps out, like a snake, to sting anything which happens to stumble upon it.
Do proper homage to thine idol's eyes; But no too humbly, or she will despise Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes: Disguise even tenderness if thou art wise.