Pleasure Is None, If Not Diversified.

So, So, Break Off This Last Lamenting Kiss, Which Sucks Two Souls, And Vapors Both Away.

Take Me To You, Imprison Me, For I, Except You Enthrall Me, Never Shall Be Free, Nor Ever Chaste, Except You Ravish Me.

Whoever Loves, If He Do Not Propose The Right True End Of Love, He's One That Goes To Sea For Nothing But To Make Him Sick.

Yet Nothing Can To Nothing Fall, Nor Any Place Be Empty Quite; Therefore I Think My Breast Hath All Those Pieces Still, Though They Be Not Unite; And Now, As Broken Glasses Show A Hundred Lesser Faces, So My Rags Of Heart Can Like, Wish, And Adore, But After One Such Love, Can Love No More.

When One Man Dies, One Chapter Is Not Torn Out Of The Book, But Translated Into A Better Language.