And Some That Smile Have In Their

Tis In Ourselves That We Are Thus Or Thus. Our Bodies Are Our Gardens To The Which Our Wills Are Gardeners.

Love Is Too Young To Know What Conscience Is.

Come, Lady, Die To Live.

In Delay There Lies No Plenty.

A Woman That Is Like A German Clock, Still A-repairing, Ever Out Of Frame, And Never Going Aright, Being A Watch, But Being Watched That It May Still Go Right!