It seems to me that true love is a discipline.
Before me floats an image, man or shade, / Shade more than man, more image than a shade.
When two close kindred meet What better than call a dance?.
On limestone quarried near the spot By his command these words are cut: Cast a cold eye On life, on death. Horseman, pass by!
The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.
You think it horrible that lust and rage Should dance attention upon my old age; They were not such a plague when I was young; What else have I to spur me into song?