A Poor Thing, Perhaps, But My Own.

What Need The Bridge Much Broader Than The Flood?

For Which Of My Bad Parts Didst Thou First Fall In Love With Me?

Tis In Ourselves That We Are Thus Or Thus. Our Bodies Are Our Gardens To The Which Our Wills Are Gardeners.

Opinion, A Sovereign Mistress Of Effects.

Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer Day? Thou Art More Lovely And More Temperate... When In Eternal Lines To Time Thou Growst So Long As Men Can Breathe Or Eyes Can See, So Long Lives This, And This Gives Life To Thee.