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William Shakespeare
Tell her that's young

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     Tell her that's young,
And shuns to have her graces spied,
     That hadst thou sprung,
In deserts where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died

     Small is the worth,
Of beauty from the light retired,
     Bid her come forth,
Suffer herself to be desired,
And not to blush so to be admired.

     Then die - that she,
The common fate of all things rare,
     May read in thee,
How small a part of time they share,
That are so wondrous sweet and fair !

 

 

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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