The Sense Of Death Is Most In

Our Thoughts Are Ours, Their Ends None Of Our Own

Come Not Within The Measure Of My Wrath.

It Is The Mind That Makes The Body Rich; And As The Sun Breaks Through The Darkest Clouds, So Honor Peereth In The Meanest Habit.

So Shalt Thou Feed On Death, That Feeds On Men.

Love Adds A Precious Seeing To The Eye.