Let not thy sorrow die, though i am dead.
“And there was never a better time to delve for pleasure in language than the sixteenth century, when novelty blew through English like a spring breeze. Some twelve thousand words, a phenomenal numb...”
“O! Learn to read what silent love hath writ:to hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.”
“What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyesWould, with themselves, shut up my thoughts...”