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%%username%%.diaryland.com sigh
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[Saturday, May. 01, 2004 @ 11:21 pm]
"Why, such is love's transgression. Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest with more of thine. This love that thou hast shown doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes' being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall, and a preserving sweet." Everytime you say his name you break my heart.
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