this love that thou hast shown, doth add more grief to too much of mine own. love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears. what is it else? a madness most descreet, a choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
we'll take that stage, and we'll sing that song. and then... she will go down.
No comments:
Post a Comment