Without the vigilance of irony, how easy it would be to found a religion! Merely allow the gawkers to collect around our loquacious trances.
“The yoke uneasy on the ox doth sit Till by degrees his stubborn neck does bow. So Love’s opposers do at last submit And gladly drudge at the accustom’d plough.”
Philip Ayres | “Fair and Softly”
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