Quote

What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve: the sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Hug
Kiss
Kissing
Sweet
Lime
Sure
Limes
Love
Approve
Cement
Glue

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He who has suffered shipwreck, fears to sail Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.
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When one is past, another care we have Thus woe succeeds a woe, as wave a wave.
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In the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me.
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In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse
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Gather ye rosebuds, while ye may.
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Know when to speak - for many times it brings danger, to give the best advice to kings.
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Seldom comes Glory till a man be dead.
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And as this round (ring) is nowhere found to flaw, or else to sever. So let our love as endless prove and pure as gold forever.
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A little saint best fits a little shrine, A little prop best fits a little vine, As my small cruse best fits my little wine.
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Like will to like, each creature loves his kind.
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Learn this of me, where'er thy lot doth fall, Short lot, or not, to be content with all.
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Whatever comes, let's be content withal: Among God's blessings there is no one small.
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So when or you or I are made A fable, song, or fleeting shade All love, all liking, all delight Lies drowned with us in endless night. Then while time serves, and we are but decaying Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a Maying.
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Humble we must be, if to heaven we go High is the roof there, but the gate is low.
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Drink wine, and live here blitheful while ye may The morrow's life too late is live to-day.
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Go to your banquet then, but use delight So as to rise still with an appetite.
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Some asked me where the rubies grew, And nothing I did say But with my finger pointed to The lips of Julia.
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T is the will that makes the action good or ill.
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Conquer we shall, but, we must first contend! It's not the fight that crowns us, but the end.
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Feed him ye must, whose food fills you. And that this pleasure is like raine, Not sent ye for to drowne your paine, But for to make it spring againe.
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