A Wild Dedication Of Yourselves To Undiscovered

Love Will Not Be Spurred To What It Loathes

Love Does Not See With The Eyes, But With The Soul.

A Violet In The Youth Of Primy Nature, Forward, Not Permanent--sweet, Not Lasting; The Perfume And Suppliance Of A Minute; No More.

When My Love Swears That She Is Made Of Truth, I Do Believe Her, Though I Know She Lies.

We Will Draw The Curtain And Show You The Picture.