In the long years liker they must grow; The man be more of woman, she of man.

Man is the hunter; woman is his game. The sleek and shining creatures of the chase, we hunt them for the beauty of their skins; they love us for it, and we ride them down.

The woman is so hard upon the woman

A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this, To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips

I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.

A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this, To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips