pull down to refresh

Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath hath had no power yet upon thy beauty. William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
His louely words her seemd due recompence Of all her passed paines: one louing howre For many yeares of sorrow can dispence: A dram of sweete is worth a pound of sowre: Shee has forgott, how many, a woeful stowre For him she late endurd; she speakes no more Of past . . . Before her stands her knight, for whom she toyld so sore. Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene
reply
Where both deliberate, the love is slight; Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight? Christopher Marlowe
reply
It is the mynd, that maketh good or ill, That maketh wretch or happie, rich or poore: For some, that hath abundance at his will, Hath not enough, but wants in greatest store Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene
reply