Alas, How Love Can Trifle With Itself!

My Life, My Joy, My Food, My Ail The World!

I Will Keep Where There Is Wit Stirring, And Leave The Faction Of Fools.

Lilies That Fester Smell Far Worse Than Weeds.

As True As Steel, As Plantage To The Moon, As Sun To Day, At Turtle To Her Mate, As Iron To Adamant, As Earth To Centre.

Let Each Man Do His Best.