Sometimes, Less Is More.

As Full Of Spirit As The Month Of May, And As Gorgeous As The Sun In Midsummer.

. . From This Moment The Very Firstlings Of My Heart Shall Be The Firstlings Of My Hand. And Even Now, To Crown My Thoughts With Acts, Be It Thought And Done.

Take Her Away; For She Hath Lived Too Long, To Fill The World With Vicious Qualities.

You Cannot Call It Love, For At Your Age The Heyday In The Blood Is Tame

A Politician... One That Would Circumvent God.