You told a lie, an odious damned lie; Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie.
Affection, mistress of passion, sways it to the mood of what it likes or loathes.
What must be shall be.
Sin will pluck on sin.
When I got enough confidence, the stage was gone. When I was sure of losing, I won. When I needed people the most, they left me. When I learnt to dry my tears, I found a shoulder to cry on. And when I mastered the art of hating, somebody started loving me.
I love thee; none but thee, and thou deservest it