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Love is not love that wounded bleeds And bleeding sullies slow. Come death within my hands and I Unto my love will go.
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I may be smelly and I may be old, Rough in my pebbles, reedy in my pools, But where my fish float by I bless their swimming, And I like the people to bathe in me especially women.
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This is the simplest of all thoughts, that Death must come when we call, although he is a god.
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So I fancy my Muse says, when I wish to die, Oh no, Oh no, we are not yet friends enough, And Virtue also says: We are not yet friends enough.
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Youth is an arithmetical statement of passing interest, each hour eats it up.
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Life in the London suburb is richer at the lower levels. At these levels the people are not self-conscious at all, they are at liberty to be as eccentric as they please, they do not know that they are eccentric.
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I'll have your heart, if not by gift my knife Shall carve it out. I'll have your heart, your life.
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If there wasn't death, I think you couldn't go on.
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A great artist ... takes what he did not make and makes of it something that only he can make.
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You must have some money if you are going to live simply. It need not be much, but you must have some.
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Unpopular, lonely and loving, Elinor need not trouble, For if she were not so loving, She would not be so miserable.
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Why does my muse only speak when she is uhnhappy? She does not, I only listen when I am unhappy.
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Marriage I think For women Is the best of opiates. It kills the thoughts That think about the thoughts, It is the best of opiates. So said Maria. But too long in solitude she'd dwelt, And too long her thoughts had felt Their strength. So when the man drew near, Out popped her thoughts and covered him with fear. Poor Maria! Better that she had kept her thoughts on a chain, For now she's alone again and all in pain; She sighs for the man that went and the thoughts that stay To trouble her dreams by night and her dreams by day.