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Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind



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So long as I can breathe or I can see
so long lives your love which gives life to me


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A heart to love, and in that heart, Courage, to make’s love known







For where thou art, there is the world itself, And where thou art not, desolation


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Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs, being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes, being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall and a preserving sweet


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Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof


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The course of true love never did run smooth


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Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, Did my heart fly at your service


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Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?


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But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;


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And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.



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Love is a smoke and is made with the fume of sighs


I love you more than words can wield the matter, Dearer than eyesight, space and liberty, bülent boz


I love you more than words can wield the matter, Dearer than eyesight, space and liberty


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Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by



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Falstaff: And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench?
Prince: As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle.

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Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art,
A good mouth-filling oath.


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To be wise, and love,
Exceeds man's might.



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Beauty, wit,
High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
To envious and calumniating time.
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.


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You cannot call it love, for at your age the heyday in the blood is tame


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She will die if you love her not, And she will die ere she might make her love known






What 's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine.


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When you depart from me sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave.


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