My silks and fine array, My smiles and languished air, By love are driv'n away And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave: Such end true lovers have.

Can I see another's woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, And not seek for kind relief? Can I see a falling tear, And not feel my sorrow's share? Can a father see his child Weep, nor be with sorrow filled? Can a mother sit and hear An infant groan, an infant fear? No, no! never can it be! Never, never can it be!

A good local pub has much in common with a church, except that a pub is warmer, and there's more conversation.

Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.

The Woman that does not love your Frowns Will never embrace your smiles.

The world of imagination is the world of eternity. It is the divine bosom into which we shall all go after death of the vegetative body.

Christ's crucifix shall be made an excuse for executing criminals.