Doing, a filthy pleasure is, and short; And done, we straight repent us of the sport: Let us not rush blindly on unto it, Like lustful beasts, that only know to do it: For lust will languish, and that heat decay, But thus, thus, keeping endless Holy-.
I'd like to go back to Paris someday and visit the Lourve museum, get a good running start, and hurl myself at the wall.