Sublime

liberty plucks justice by the nose;

Go on; I'll follow thee.

It lies in its ability to access and bond with our unconscious.

a beast, that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourn'd

Love, as all the good novels know, is a question of title, deed, and possession.

“Imperious Caesar, dead and turn’d to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away: O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw!”

If it assume my noble father's person,

this is wondrous strange!