Next to dressing for a rout or ball, undressing is a woe.

Above or Love, Hope, Hate or Fear, It lives all passionless and pure: An age shall fleet like earthly year; Its years in moments shall endure. Away, away, without a wing, O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly; A nameless and eternal thing, Forgetting what it was to die.

We are all selfish and I no more trust myself than others with a good motive.

Yes, love indeed is light from heaven; A spark of that immortal fire with angels shared, by Allah given to lift from earth our low desire.

Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.

All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a Twin.

A small drop of ink makes thousands, perhaps millions... think.