Love wol nat been constreyned by maistrye. When maistrie comth, the God of Love anon Beteth his wynges, and farewel, he is gon! Love is a thyng as any spirit free.
I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.
