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Look not in my eyes, for fear They mirror true the sight I see, And there you find your face too clear And love it and be lost like me.
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I love you,†I said, causing his face to contort in pain. “I’m not a man so I do not have a heart that loves as a human does. I’m an immortal god that dwells with supreme power because I hold the keys to Death. But you are my existence. I am yours.†Hot tears streamed down my face as I stared into the face of someone who comprehended an emotion much stronger than my weak, feeble words of love.
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Why, if 'tis dancing you would be, There's brisker pipes than poetry. Say, for what were hop-yards meant, Or why was Burton built on Trent? Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man. Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink For fellows whom it hurts to think: Look into the pewter pot To see the world as the world's not.
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When the guy says go, you start to suffer - or you might as well not be out there. It's a small piece of your life, make it hurt.
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My forgiving you doesn't make my heart hurt less. It takes awhile to heal.
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Hold her for me. Hold her tight. Don't let her be lonely. Don't let her hurt. Please.
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Sometimes,' said Pooh, 'the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.
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Ideas may drift into other minds, but they do not drift my way. I have to go and fetch them. I know no work manual or mental to equal the appalling heart-breaking anguish of fetching an idea from nowhere.
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Could man be drunk for ever    With liquor, love, or fights, Lief should I rouse at morning    And lief lie down of nights. But men at whiles are sober    And think by fits and starts, And if they think, they fasten    Their hands upon their hearts.
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Give crowns and pounds and guineas But not your heart away; Give pearls away and rubies, But keep your fancy free.
