Each man kills the thing he loves

Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
from all let this be heard.
Some does it with a bitter look,
some with a flattering word.
The coward does it with a kiss
the brave man with the 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, Ballad of Reading Gaol