I Am A Feather For Each Wind

There Is A Law In Each Well-ordered Nation To Curb Those Raging Appetites That Are Most Disobedient And Refractory.

The Sands Are Number'd That Make Up My Life; Here Must I Stay, And Here My Life Must End.

Great Floods Have Flown From Simple Sources.

No Matter Where; Of Comfort No Man Speak: Let's Talk Of Graves, Of Worms, And Epitaphs; Make Dust Our Paper And With Rainy Eyes Write Sorrow On The Bosom Of The Earth

The Labor We Delight In Physics [cures] Pain.