If you're committed enough, you can make any story work. I once told a woman I was Kevin Costner, and it worked because I believed it.
Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun, grow pure by being purely shone upon.
With what a deep devotedness of woe I wept thy absence - o'er and o'er again Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew pain, And memory, like a drop that, night and day, Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away!
This is the right time, and this is the right thing.
Every season hath its pleasure; Spring may boast her flowery prime, Yet the vineyard's ruby treasuries Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.
To love you was pleasant enough. And, oh! 'tis delicious to hate you!
The young May moon is beaming, love. The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love. How sweet to rove, Through Morna's grove, When the drowsy world is dreaming, love! Then awake! - the heavens look bright, my dear, 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!
She is sighing deeply now with sympathy and delight - the delight of an addict when someone else admits he's hooked, too.
A life like Nixon's is filled with shame and filled with glory. He loved to quote Teddy Roosevelt: "He was a man; sometimes right, sometimes wrong, but he was a man. " I love that line.
. . . that great lover of peace, a man of giant stature who moulded, as few other men have done, the destinies of his age.
A time, methinks, too short To make a world-without-end bargain in.