The man had killed the thing he loved, and so he had to die
Yet each man kills the thing he loves, by each let this be heard
Some do it with a bitter look, some with a flattering word
The coward does it with a kiss, the brave man with a sword
Some kill their love when they are young, and some when they are old
Some strangle with the hands of lust, some with the hands of gold
The kindest use a knife, because the dead so soon grow cold
Some love too little, some too long, some sell, and others buy
Some do the deed with many tears, and some without a sigh
For each man kills the thing he loves, yet each man does not die
Oscar Wilde
