"The Eyes are the window to your soul"
"Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair, Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen can passage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath."
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Source: William Shakespeare, John Payne Collier (1847). “Shakespeare's Plays: With His Life”
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