“Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, and burnt the topless towers of Ileum?”

Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed In one self place, for where we are is hell, And where hell is there must we ever be.

Is it not passing brave to be a King and ride in triumph through Persepolis?

O soul, be changed into little waterdrops, / And fall into the ocean, ne’er be found!

Why should you love him whom the world hates so? Because he love me more than all the world.

Nothing violent, oft have I heard tell, can be permanent.

The griefs of private men are soon allayed, But not of kings.

It is a comfort to the miserable to have comrades in misfortune, but it is a poor comfort after all.

Religion hides many mischiefs from suspicion.

More childish valorous than manly wise.

Jigging veins of rhyming mother wits.

He must have a long spoon that eats with the devil.

Virtue is the fount whence honour springs.

Infinite riches in a little room.

Blood is the god of war’s rich livery.

While money doesn’t buy love, it puts you in a great bargaining position.

Accurst be he that first invented war.

You have the heart of a supernova the fire burns with such impenetrable heat, and don’t you ever let anyone try to extinguish the inferno you carry inside.

If then, merely out of regard to population, it were right that paederasts should be burnt alive, monks ought to be roasted alive over a slow fire.

He lit my soul like a wildfire and it burned me to the ground.

I said I would heal with you-instead you burned my love.

I burned all our bridges – not knowing that love knows how to swim.

Its as simple as that. A slow burning flame flickering upon these freckled fingers.

And all this aching memories of you are floating through my burning veins; letting my scars glow in a dark blue reflecting the colour of your weary eyes.

when he smiles at me, i swear my heart jumps. But when he kisses me? then, i burn.