Man is the only critter who feels the need to label things as flowers or weeds.
- -- Anonymous
Thou treacherous, base deserter of my flame,
False to my passion, fatal to my fame,
Through what mistaken magic dost thou prove
So true to lewdness, so untrue to love?
-- John Wilmot, Earl Of Rochester (1647–1680), British poet, courtier. The Imperfect Enjoyment.
Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway
Of magic potent over sun and star,
Is Love, though oft to agony distrest,
And though his favorite seat be feeble woman’s breast.
-- William Wordsworth (1770–1850) Laodamia