| |||||||||||||||
|
Christopher
Marlowe
|
|
Come
live with me and be my Love, And
we will sit upon the rocks, And
I will make thee beds of roses A
gown made of the finest wool
A belt of straw and ivy-buds The
shepherd swains shall dance and sing |
|
Love is, above all, the gift of oneself. - Jean Anouilh, When I am sad and
weary. When I think all hope has gone. Those have most power to hurt us that we love. - Francis Beaumont,
|
|