Robert Clark

“Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this:

where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. ”
― Pablo Neruda

“Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive
If you will lead these graces to the grave
And leave the world no copy.”
― William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night

“Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?”
― William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night

“I’ll sacrifice the lamb that I do love   To spite a raven’s heart within a dove.”
― William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night