A Pair Of Star-crossed Lovers.

Thanks, Sir; All The Rest Is Mute.

Hereditary Sloth Instructs Me.

The Poet's Eye, In A Fine Frenzy Rolling, Doth Glance From Heaven To Earth, From Earth To Heaven; And As Imagination Bodies Forth The Forms Of Things Unknown, The Poet's Pen Turns Them To Shape, And Gives To Airy Nothing A Local Habitation And A Name; Such Tricks Hath Strong Imagination.

If Thou Dost Love, Proclaim It Faithfully.

Travelers Must Be Content.