Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.
Gentle and low, an excellent thing in woman.
My love is deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, both are infinite.
Love denied blights the soul we owe to God.
What's his offense? Groping for trout in a peculiar river.
I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people.