For Secrets Are Edged Tools, And Must

An Horrible Stillness First Invades Our Ear, And In That Silence We The Tempest Fear.

Revenge, Revenge, Timotheus Cries, See The Furies Arise!

Jealousy's A Proof Of Love, But 'tis A Weak And Unavailing Medicine; It Puts Out The Disease And Makes It Show, But Has No Power To Cure.

Words Are But Pictures Of Our Thoughts.

Secret Guilt Is By Silence Revealed.