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.
is love? 'Tis not hereafter,
Love is, above all, the gift of oneself. - Jean Anouilh,
When I am sad and
weary. When I think all hope has gone.
Those have most power to hurt us that we love. - Francis Beaumont