Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, but gold that's put to use more gold begets.
Love asks me no questions, and gives me endless support.
By that sin fell the angels.
A flock of blessings light upon thy back
'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed, When not to be, receives reproach of being, And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed, Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing.
The Eyes are the window to your soul