And the pent-up fires of longing loosed their prison's weak control,
And in wild, hot words came rushing from my burning soul.
Wild hot words that spoke of passion, hitherto but half expressed,
And I clasped you close, my sweetheart, kissed you, strained you to my breast.

Gee, this isn't the kind of stuff you'd expect from the guy who promised a chicken in every pot and a car in every garage. I think Hoover really loved this woman - I certainly wouldn't dream that Clinton had any love for Monica. Bravo, Herbert!
-Joe Offer-