Where Love Is Great, The Littlest Doubts

Very Good Orators, When They Are Out, They Will Spit; And For Lovers, Lacking--god Warn Us!--matter, The Cleanliest Shift Is To Kiss.

Simply The Thing That I Am Shall Make Me Live.

True, I Talk Of Dreams, Which Are The Children Of An Idle Brain, Begot Of Nothing But Vain Fantasy.

Love Is A Smoke Made With The Fume Of Sighs.

Who Is It That Can Tell Me Who I Am?