Avaunt, You Cullions!

What Though Care Killed A Cat, Thou Hast Mettle Enough In Thee To Kill Care.

The Moon's An Arrant Thief, And Her Pale Fire She Snatches From The Sun.

A Nun Of Winter's Sisterhood Kisses Not More Religiously; The Very Ice Of Chastity Is In Them.

A True Repentance Shuns The Evil Itself, More Than The External Suffering Or The Shame.

Our Peace Shall Stand As Firm As Rocky Mountains.