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And then end life when I end loyalty.
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And when he shall die, take him and cut him out into little stars. And he will make the face of heaven so fine, that all the world shall fall in love with night, and pay no worship to the garish sun.
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Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet.
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Do not tell me, for I’ve heard it all, there is too much to do with hate, but much more to do with love.
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For where thou art, there is the world itself, and where though art not, desolation.
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I love thee, I love but thee; with a love that shall not die ; till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.
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Love goes to love like schoolboys from their books. But love from love, towards school with heavy looks.
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Love is the most beautiful of dreams and the worst of nightmares.
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Love looks not with eyes, but with the mind.
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Love’s gentle spring doth always fresh remain.
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My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips’ red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun: If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white; But no such roses I see in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath from my mistress reaks: I love to hear her speak, yet well I know that music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go: My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare as any she belied with false compare.
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My only love, sprung from my only hate, too early seen unknown, and known too late. Prodigious birth of love it is to me, that I must love a loathed enemy….
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My soul hath her content so absolute that not another comfort like to this succeeds in unknown fate.
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O, spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou.
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Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her.
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Upon thy cheek I lay this zealous kiss, as seal to the indenture of my love.
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What light on yon window breaks? ‘Tis the east, and Juliet is the sun.
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With my love
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