Thus Conscience Does Make Cowards Of Us

But Flies An Eagle Flight, Bold And Forth On, Leaving No Tract Behind.

The Golden Age Is Before Us, Not Behind Us.

And His Unkindness May Defeat My Life, But Never Taint My Love.

It Was A Lover And His Lass, With A Hey, And A Ho, And A Hey Nonino, That O'er The Green Corn-field Did Pass, In The Spring Time, The Only Pretty Ring Time, When Birds Do Sing, Hey Ding A Ding, Ding; Sweet Lovers Love The Spring.

What Is The City But The People?