“Nature's great masterpiece, an elephant the only harmless great thing.”
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I am two fools, I know, for loving, and for saying so in whining poetry.
Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so. For, those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow. Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
As virtuous men pass mildly away, and whisper to their souls to go, whilst some of their sad friends do say, the breath goes now, and some say no.
Reason is our soul's left hand, faith her right.
