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William Shakespeare
O Mistress Mine, Feste's song from Twelfth Night

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O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,
That can sing both high and low,
Trip no further, pretty sweeting,
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.

What is love? 'Tis not hereafter,
Present mirth hath present laughter,
What's to come is still unsure,
In delay there lies not plenty,
Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

 

 

Love is, above all, the gift of oneself. - Jean Anouilh,

When I am sad and weary. When I think all hope has gone.
When I walk along High Holborn, I think of you with nothing on
.

Adrian Mitchell

Those have most power to hurt us that we love. - Francis Beaumont

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