Fold him in his country's stars. Roll the drum and fire the volley! What to him are all our wars, What but death bemocking folly? — George Henry Boker Copy Share Image
Love is that orbit of the restless soulWhose circle grazes the confines of space,Bounding within the limits of its raceUtmost extremes. — George Henry Boker Copy Share Image
“I have no great faith in women’s plays. They always seem to me to lack precisely that which women lack, viz: testicles.” — George Henry Boker Copy Share Image
Fold him in his country's stars. Roll the drum and fire the volley! What to him are all our wars, What but death bemocking… — George Henry Boker Copy Share Image
...Lovers are Like walking ghosts, they always haunt the spot Of their misdeeds. — George Henry Boker Copy Share Image
