in the book of the bodyis there no other writing true as romancewhich is true and which falseof two children perfectly madejoined at their belliesand only one pair of legswhat work will make us fearthe consequence of ithow is holding youso large a music
chance is a good companionbut needs are the greatest confidantsI love sometimesand sometimes I do not carea woman is lovely but I sufferGod forgive me for my books
love is fallen upon melike cutting down a treeto make better lightwith my whole bodyI appease my desireto be nobodybut I see how fanatic tenantswould garden on so little groundbeing almost starved