Barnes Are Blessings.

I Long To Hear The Story Of Your Life, Which Must Take The Ear Strangely.

My Brain More Busy Than The Labouring Spider Weaves Tedious Snares To Trap Mine Enemies.

Why Didst Thou Promise Such A Beauteous Day And Make Me Travel Forth Without My Cloak, To Let Base Clouds O'ertake Me In My Way, Hiding They Brav'ry In Their Rotten Smoke?

It Were A Grief So Brief To Part With Thee. Farewell.

A Golden Mind Stoops Not To Shows Of Dross.