There Is Another Man Within Me That's

Men That Look No Further Than Their Outsides, Think Health An Appurtenance Unto Life, And Quarrel With Their Constitutions For Being Sick; But I That Have Examined The Parts Of Man, And Know Upon What Tender Filaments That Fabric Hangs, Do Wonder That We Are Not Always So; And Considering The Thousand Doors That Lead To Death, Do Thank My God That We Can Die But Once.

Nor Do They Speak Properly Who Say That Time Consumeth All Things; For Time Is Not Effective, Nor Are Bodies Destroyed By It.

He That Unburied Lies Wants Not His Hearse, For Unto Him A Tomb's The Universe.

For My Part, I Have Ever Believed, And Do Now Know, That There Are Witches.

Flattery Is A Juggler, And No Kin Unto Sincerity.