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Come, cuddle your head on my shoulder, dear, Your head like the golden-rod, And we will go sailing away from here To the beautiful land of Nod.
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It ever has been since time began, And ever will be, till time lose breath, That love is a mood - no more - to a man, And love to a woman is life or death.
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There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, that can circumvent or hinder or control the firm resolve of a determined soul.
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No question is ever settled until it is settled right.
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Love much. Earth has enough of bitter in it.
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