Quotes
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One day I wrote her name upon the strand, But came the waves and washd it away: Again I wrote it with a second hand, But came the tide and made my pains his prey. Vain man (said she) that dost in vain assay. A mortal thing so to immortalise; For I myself shall like to this decay, And eke my name be wipd out likewise. Not so (quod I); let baser things devise. To die in dust, but you shall live by fame; My verse your virtues rare shall eternise, And in the heavens write your glorious name:...
Edmund Spenser
My love is like to ice, and I to fire;
How comes it then that this her cold so great
Is not dissolv'd through my so hot desire,
But harder grows the more I her entreat?
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
Is not delay’d by her heart-frozen cold;
But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,
And feel my flames augmented manifold!
What more miraculous thing may be told,
That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice;
And ice, which is congeal’d with senseless cold,
Should kindle fire by...
Edmund Spenser
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