The Fool shall not enter into Heaven let him be ever so Holy.
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.
The eagle never lost so much time as when he submitted to learn of the crow
The imagination is not a state: it is the human existence itself.
The Woman that does not love your Frowns Will never embrace your smiles.
You become what you behold.