A Ministering Angel Shall My Sister Be.

How My Achievements Mock Me!

It Is The Bright Day That Brings Forth The Adder, And That Craves Wary Walking.

Thou Art A Boil, A Plague Sore, An Embossed Carbuncle In My Corrupted Blood.

A Good Old Man, Sir. He Will Be Talking. As They Say, When The Age Is In, The Wit Is Out.

Love, Which Teacheth Me That Thou And I Am One