Proper Deformity Shows Not In The Fiend

Instead Of Weeping When A Tragedy Occurs In A Songbird's Life, It Sings Away Its Grief. I Believe We Could Well Follow The Pattern Of Our Feathered Friends.

Every Why Hath A Wherefore.

Fair Ladies, Masked, Are Roses In Their Bud; Dismasked, The Damask Sweet Commixture Shown, Are Angels Vailing Clouds, Or Roses Blown.

You Have Witchcraft In Your Lips, There Is More Eloquence In A Sugar Touch Of Them Than In The Tongues Of The French Council; And They Should Sooner Persuade Harry Of England Than A General Petition Of Monarchs.

An Honest Man, Sir, Is Able To Speak For Himself, When A Knave Is Not.