A breeze discovered my open book And began to flutter the leaves to look
The snake stood up for evil in the Garden.
Loyalty is that for the lack of which your gang will shoot you without benefit of trial by jury.
I could define poetry this way: it is that which is lost out of both prose and verse in translation.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep but I have promises to keep...
What is done is done for the love of it- or not really done at all.