To Hold, As 't Were, The Mirror

How Poor Are They That Have Not Patience! What Wound Did Ever Heal But By Degrees?

Yet This My Comfort: When Your Words Are Done, My Woes End Likewise With The Evening Sun.

Friendship's Full Of Dregs.

The Eyes Are The Window To Your Soul

O Comfort-killing Night, Image Of Hell, Dim Register And Notary Of Shame, Black Stage For Tragedies And Murders Fell, Vast Sin-concealing Chaos, Nurse Of Blame!