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“If 't be true thou dost love me, then bare thy breast and runneth upon this bodkin. Nay, I do not require thy life or lethal proof that Narcissus festered in isolation. Man is a blotted parchment of sins and reminiscence his Purgatory.” — Stewart Stafford
If 't be true thou dost love me, then bare thy breast and runneth upon this bodkin. Nay, I do not require thy life or lethal proof that Narcissus festered in isolation. Man is a blotted parchment of sins and reminiscence his Purgatory.