Book: Another kind Boleyn. Page 1

The woman is just a toy of fate.

Not being tempted is not sin.

So it is: hatred for hatred.

The mixture of desire and pleasure - as if a huge fight is no worse than violent embrace.

To tell the truth does not mean to flatter.

We are all in the soul of the common people. But waiting for some great calling.

Perhaps that is when you know that love is when your lover is not perfect.

In poetry, as in life, with love nothing rhymes.

What is love? We write poetry about her, all night long sing serenades about her, but no one can really tell what it is.

Young hearts is easy to glue, especially that the hearts of the recipient of nearly half of England has better things to do than to suffer from love.