Orsino: For women are as roses, whose fair flower
Being one displayed, doth fall that very hour.
Viola: And so they are: alas, that they are so;
To die, when they to perfection grow.
I do pro...
Paradise has not been lost, but found again,
In time, in every sleeping second, Weathered by the grinding of sin’s teeth
We are exiled, to paradise.
I have seen the inch of skin that reeks at me