O, reason not the need!
How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath?
Oh, how this spring of love resembleth, The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all beauty of the Sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart?
Juliet is the east and i am the sun.
There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered.