Fondling,' she saith, 'since I have hemm'd thee here Within the circuit of this ivory pale, I'll be a park, and thou… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Graze on my lips; and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Your thighs were made for cheeks to graze. My lips, your poison, they bring you down to your knees. — Asking Alexandria Copy Share Image
