A Kiss Is A Rosy Dot Placed

A Man Does Not Fight To Win; It Is Better To Fight In Vain.

Where Lurk Sweet Echoes Of The Dear Homevoices, Each Note Of Which Calls Like A Little Sister, Those Airs Slow, Slow Ascending, As The Smokewreaths Rise From The Hearthstones Of Our Native Hamlets Cyrano Act 5.

Roxane: Live, For I Love You! Cyrano: No, In Fairy Tales When To The Ill-starred Prince The Lady Says 'i Love You!' All His Ugliness Fades Fast-- But I Remain The Same, Up To The Last! Roxane: I Have Marred Your Life--i, I! Cyrano: You Blessed My Life! Never On Me Had Rested Woman's Love. My Mother Even Could Not Find Me Fair: I Had No Sister; And, When Grown A Man, I Feared The Mistress Who Would Mock At Me. But I Have Had Your Friendship--grace To You A Woman's Charm Has Passed Across My Path.

And What Is A Kiss, Specifically? A Pledge Properly Sealed, A Promise Seasoned To Taste, A Vow Stamped With The Immediacy Of A Lip, A Rosy Circle Drawn Around The Verb 'to Love.' A Kiss Is A Message Too Intimate For The Ear, Infinity Captured In The Bee's Brief Visit To A Flower, Secular Communication With An Aftertaste Of Heaven, The Pulse Rising From The Heart To Utter Its Name On A Lover's Lip: 'forever.

I Would Die At The Stake Rather Than Change A Semi-colon!