This poem is not addressed to you.You may come into it briefly,But no one will find you here, no one.You will have changed before the poem will.
I saw my Lord with the eye of my heart.He said, "Who are you?" I said, "I am You."You are He Who fills all placeBut place does not know where You are.In my subsistence is my annihilation;In my annihilation, I remain You.al-hallaj
She'll turn her music on youYou won't have to think twiceShe's pure as New York snowShe's got Bette Davis eyesjackie deshannon
Your verdict, gentlemen, will be less upon us than upon yourselves.We appear before you.You appear before history.Georges Clemenceau