And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.

He hath kissed her with the kisses of his mouth, She is blacker than tents of Kedar, Her roses nod east and her roses nod south Across the wide casements of cedar, But the Rose of Sharon weeps theremid Until her true lover hath freed her.

Half a dozen boys in linen blazers, their hair in uniform flattops, were shooting off fizgigs in his alley and paid him no mind as he pretended to use his key to unlock the alley-oop door.

Mark—how that that lone and blighted bosom sears / The scathing thought of execrated years!