My Love Though Silly Is

The Psalms Foretell What I, What Any Shall Do And Suffer And Say.

Can There Be Worse Sickness, Than To Know That We Are Never Well, Nor Can Be So?

This Extasie Doth Unperplex (we Said) And Tell Us What We Love, Wee See By This, It Was Not Sexe, Wee See, We Saw Not What Did Move: But As All Severall Soules Contain Mixture Of Things, They Know Not What, Love, These Mixt Souls, Doth Mixe Againe. Loves Mysteries In Soules Doe Grow, But Yet The Body Is His Booke.

Art Is The Most Passionate Orgy Within Man's Grasp.

This Only Is Charity, To Do All, All That We Can.